Mr. Match (BoyxBoy) ✓

The relentless blare of my alarm clock dragged me from the comfortable depths of my thoughts. I usually woke before it, using the quiet morning hours to craft ridiculous scenarios in my head – a habit I cultivated to escape the mundane reality of high school.

As I shoved the blankets off, dust motes danced in the slivers of sunshine peeking through the blinds. A wide yawn stretched my jaw, followed by the familiar, welcome tingling as I stretched my arms overhead. After making my bed – a rare occurrence, but today felt different – I grabbed my phone and headed downstairs.

My dad was already at the kitchen island, engrossed in his laptop, a coffee mug clutched in one hand. "Good Morning, dad," I mumbled sleepily, sliding onto the chair beside him.

He grinned, looking up. "Good Morning, my sperm." He then dissolved into wheezing laughter at his own pathetic, yet oft-repeated, joke. I groaned in annoyance, but a small smile played on my lips. Some things never changed.