In the morning I wake up to that stupid bird.

I stare at the bird in the cage as it pecks the bars with its beak. The bed on the other side of the room is empty and neatly made.

Right. Now I remember. Cyrus told me last night he was going to leave early for school to get some information for his history test.

Cyrus' pet puffin squawked noisily, almost deliberately piercing my ears.

Glancing at the time and the dark window, I shove myself out of bed, throw my pillow at the bird, and begin to slide off my clothing.

It'll be another boring day at the World Academy.

It's only 6 a.m., but our dorm is a bit far from the school. We always have to get up early, get dressed, grab something quick, and head off.

My first period is a study, so I usually have time to finish some homework I was too tired to do the night before.

So I slide on my school uniform, snatch an apple from our fruit bin, slide my bag over my shoulder, and head off.

The day is off to a slow start.

After a full weekend with no homework, as usual, my handwriting is sloppy. Cyrus decided to ditch this morning instead of working like he promised me. His choice, not mine. He'll pay for it later.

"Hey!" Some voice calls loudly behind me.

Flipping through my notes, I ignore it.

"…Hey!" The voice is louder, closer this time.

In my head, I begin to read to myself: 'The Pythagorean Theorem, a mathematical equation, states that any two sides of a right triangle—'

"HEY!"

The same, loud, annoying voice makes my ear drums crack in agony. Holding my hands pressed hard against my ears, I spin in my seat and shout back, "What?"

Before I knew it, the person sat next to me at the stone table. "Hi." He grinned wide at me, his blue eyes sparkling.

I narrowed my eyes, raising an eyebrow. "…Hello." I don't even have enough time to turn back to my math notes before he talks more.

"I'm new."

"I've noticed," is the bland response I give him while unscrewing the plastic water bottle cap.

The student lied his head down on his arms, staring at me questioningly. "Aren't you going to tell me your name, or ask for mine?" He whined at me.

I sigh. "If you insist."

He grinned at me, sitting back up. "I do."

The student was grinning like an idiot as he watched me put my water down, waiting for his response.

A pure smile. "I'm Aksel. A transfer student from some boring high school in Denmark." His hand came to rest under his chin as he added, "You could call me the King of Northern Europe, if ya want."

"No thank you, Aksel," my attention switches back to my notes. I flip through several pages before a hand swipes the book away. "Hey!"

Aksel smirks at me, holding the blue spiral notebook between his fingers. "You didn't tell me your name."

I give him a suspicious look, getting to my feet and snatching my notebook back. "Nikolaus."

He stands as well, much to my displeasure. "Are you new, too?"

Picking up my books, I raise an eyebrow. My eyes shift to the mountains of books and folders in my arms as I slide them into a bag. "I thought that would be obvious."

"So no?"

"I transferred here in 5th grade."

"Frooooom?"

Before I slip my bag around to my back, I considered hitting him with it. "Norway."

His eyes light up. "Really? That's so awesome! I'm from Northern Europe too!"

As if he hadn't told me already.

"Right…nice meeting you, Aksel."

I try to slide away, but he grabs my shoulder and jerks me backwards. "Where ya goin'? Some Icelandic guy told me you'd show me around."

The puzzle pieces slid together, slowly, one by one. So that's why Cyrus left early.

"I hope you're happy," I glare at my little brother, sliding into one of the wooden chairs. "Because of you, I had to show some freak Danish kid around the entire academy."

Cyrus smiles slyly to himself, running his hands through his slick, silver hair. "You should've fed Puffin the other day. He almost starved."

"But he didn't," I snapped, turning my attention to my half-completed history essay that was due in several days.

"What are we gonna eat tonight?"

"Make something yourself," I scribble down some more sentences. "You're 16, with two perfectly working arms and legs. It won't kill you to work."

Cyrus stood, shoving his chair in. "I'll order a pizza."

"Don't you have homework?"

"That's what study halls are for, Nikolaus." There's a grin in his voice.

Just as Cyrus picks up the phone and presses the first key, there's a pounding on the door.

"Heeey, Nikolaus! Can I come in?"

Before I could respond, or before Cyrus had time to stare at me (maybe even smirk), Aksel bursts into the apartment. He grins at me, wide, with his spiky blonde hair drooping from the rain outside. "Hey!"

"…Again, hello." Cyrus takes my paper away and puts it on the counter. I already knew I wouldn't have any more time to work tonight, anyway.

"Can you talk a walk with me? I can't find my room." Aksel slides a hand through his matted, wet hair.

Cyrus slides me a grin, but I shoot him a glare and answer, "Fine."

On the way out the door, I grabbed my school hoodie and pull it over my head.

"So you can't find your own dorm?" I fingered a few loose strands of hair that lay in my face, readjusting the cross barrette that I got when I was little.

Aksel grinned, shoving his hands into his jet-black jacket, ignoring the patter of rain against his face. "Mmm, maybe? I could've just said that to get you to walk with me." He's brimming with confidence.

"I hope you know you interrupted me from something important."

"Like fighting with your brother?"

I shot him a quick glare, avoiding another puddle. "Why don't you tell me something about yourself, Aksel."

He easily picked up the subject change. "There's not much to tell." The Dane glanced at the gray sky, shrugging. "Not much that you don't already know…"

I paused at a street corner, looking him in the eye. "What?"

When he turns to face me, I can see something hidden in the stare he gives me. But when I blink, it's gone, covered up by a warm smile. "Nothing."

I shoved my hands into my pockets, and we continued walking along the cracked sidewalk.

He sighed. "My earliest memory was wandering around in a forest, day after day. Food was only an object. Most other memories are pretty blurry. Though I remember being a hardcore drinker around 13." He grinned to himself.

"Wasn't it lonely in the woods?" I questioned him, glancing at his tall frame.

He gives me another smile, though it doesn't reach his eyes. "Nah."

The lights in the buildings become more noticeable as the sky darkens. The old, English style street lamps flicker on, and the rain continues.

Reality shakes me, making me realize we're not just supposed to be on a walk. "Uh, what's your apartment number…?"

He stopped. "1397."

The number rings in my mind. "You're rooming with the Swede and the Fin."

"Who?"

The last people I want to talk about. "Nothing…just take your stuff—"

"I don't have any stuff."

I stared at him, searching for the answer to that mystery in his eyes. Come to think of it, he was…familiar. So familiar my heart began to pound in my ears. Heat spreads across my pale cheeks all the way to my ears, creating a tingling sensation.

I shake the feeling away quickly, scowling. "You're in the same building as me. Our dorms are named after famous unions or events. Ours is named 'Kalmar'."

"So we just wasted all of this time to walk around in a circle?" Aksel grins at me again, rocking back on his heels.

"Seems like it…" With that, we rounded the buildings and walked up to our Kalmar dorm, wet and tired.

Aksel stepped inside first, myself following him. The indoors quickly provided relief and warmth.

He shook his hair, similar to the method a dog uses, and ruffled it, giving it the same, blonde, spiky look it had earlier. Then, grinning, he said to me, "Thanks, Nikolaus."

I purse my lips, taking my hood down and adjusting my bangs. "Really, not knowing where your own apartment building is…idiot…"

Aksel's face turned serious, all signs of joking gone. It didn't fit for his appearance. "Weren't you listening before?"

I blinked. "Huh?"

Before I knew it, he had me pressed against the wall. Aksel had my wrists pinned, as he towered over me.

"A-Aksel—" Against my short, quick protests, the look on his face told me to stop talking. He leaned down, his eyes asking me many questions I couldn't answer—questions I couldn't identify. I could feel his shortened breaths tickle my nose.

"Didn't I say…" His hands slid off my wrists, and he moved in closer, "…that I might've done that to spend some time with you?"

The feeling returned—the feeling of blush creeping across my face, spreading to my ears that were hidden by my cream-colored hair.

I didn't know what on earth had possessed him to do such a thing the first day he saw me. I didn't get it—I didn't get how he could be that way. And then he merely walked off, smiling and thanking me again. How he just proceeded to a normal mood after such a weird one…

Needless to say, Cyrus was grinning the rest of the night.

I also got less sleep.

His image, still ringing fresh in my mind as I slid underneath my covers, haunted me. The image made me scroll through my memories, trying to find out where I'd seen his face before. His smile, his eyes, his hair, the way he talked…all of them seeped into the cracks of my mind, telling me that I knew this man. That I knew this man very well.

I just didn't know from where.