Emil Steilsson should be happy. Note the 'should'. In fact, he is far from happy as he perches awkwardly in front of World W Academy, a British boarding school built especially for those with 'special situations'. Emil, being 16, was obviously not told what those 'special situations' were, however they must've been important, as the school looked incredibly fancy. A large brick building with arching doorways, lots of chimneys, and extensive grounds betrayed a sense of decay, as thick, mould-scented ivy caked the walls. Emil didn't like ivy. It made him uncomfortable.
What also contributed to his discomfort was his brother, Lukas' arm around him. They had only recently discovered they were brothers, due to a freak accident at hospital (long story), and god, was Lukas clingy. "Hey, little bro," he spoke monotonously, pointing at the building. "That's the main school building, where all the lessons take place. Emil shook his arm off. "Could've guessed as much," he muttered. "I mean, you've practically drilled the entire map of the school into my brain." Lukas was a Science teacher at World W Academy, being 22 in age. He was passionate about his job, and had described in great detail the layout of the school.
Emil started to walk purposefully to the office, so that he could be admitted. He was a Sixth Form student, so there were likely to be other new students in his year, and their dormitory was in another part ofthe school. Lukas followed his younger brother.
The woman at the office was helpful enough. "Hello, Lukas!" She smiled sweetly. "Is that your little brother?" Emil felt a flash of annoyance at the words. "Yes, Elizabeta. He's starting Sixth Form. Could we have a copy of his timetable, a locker key, and a map?" Elizabeta started fussing with the papers. Emil felt even more awkward than before. "Oh, and also a key to his dormitory? I think he'd like to know who he's paired with." The Icelander coloured slightly as Lukas nodded towards his suitcase. "I think he'd like to put that away before lessons start."
Emil glanced at the clock. Half seven. Lessons started at nine. No wonder nobody was here yet. The air bit his face, although it was colder at home, he still felt the brittle English weather.
Eliza seemed to have finally finished. She handed Emil his timetable, planner, keys, and various wads of paper. "These have the rules on, and a map, and your dormitory. They're in pairs or trios, so don't worry about sharing too much living space." She smiled. "Nice to meet you, Emil Bondevik. " "Steilsson," he cut in, annoyed. She blinked. "Oh, ok. Emil Steilsson then!" Trying to ignore Lukas' hurt expression, he met Elizabeta's eyes. "So.. um, which form am I in?" She looked taken aback, but it passed in a millisecond, making Emil question if she was confused at all. "Oh, you're in form 12.1! There are only four forms in the year, and twenty in each form."
Lukas regained his smile. "Thanks, Eliza, or should I say Miss Hedervary, now that the school year has started?" Emil had never seen Lukas smile at a stranger, so he concluded that Miss Hedervary was trustworthy. "Thanks.." he muttered, as Lukas lead him out of the building, feeling her eyes bore into his back.
"The Sixth Form dormitories are in a seperate building," he said, as Emil followed dubiously behind. Birds chirped, and the wet grass squeaked beneath the sixteen-year-old's leather shoes as he pretended to ignore his older brother. They stopped abruptly in front of a smaller building made out of pink brick.
"The Cicada Block," Emil read out loud, the sharp sullenness of his voice surprising himself. More thick ivy surrounded the walls. Lukas nodded to Emil. "Why don't you go in?" He asked, his violet eyes concerned by the boy's quietness. Preoccupied, Emil entered the building. There were already a few tenagers there; a girl with bob-cut blond hair, wearing a pinafore that seemed too long for her slight frame. An equally short boy, with slightly curled platinum blond hair and a frightened expression. Neither seemed particularly interested in Emil, and the frightenedness of the boy unnerved him, so he let them be and headed up the stairs. Only then did he realise that Lukas was behind him, and awkwardly held back so as to let him go in front.
When they had climbed two flights of stairs, (Emil's dormitory was the last room on the second floor), Lukas spoke again. "That girl there was Zwingli's younger sister," he nodded down the stairs. "And the boy was one of Braginsky's friends." Emil wasn't listening, though. The last thing he wanted to think about was other people, especially after what happened to Lukas. So instead, he kept walking through the corridors, until they finally reached the end. A window outside the door shone a bright, autumn light that stung Emil's eyes.
"Room number (12)80," Lukas read out loud, handing his younger brother the suitcase. A sign below had some names on it. "Leon Wang (year 12), Sebastian Vargas (year 12)," he continued. But Emil's eyes were glued onto the last name. "Emil Bondevik (year 12)." So they had chosen to use Lukas' surname, after all. He flashed with annoyance. Why was he always associated with his brother? But before he could change the surname on the sign, Lukas ushered Emil forrwards. "Those are Yao Wang's little brother, and Feliciano and Lovino Vargas' little brother," he provided. "Well, I've got to get going, then. I need to be in the staffroom by 8, which," looking at his watch, "was a minute ago."
Emil turned to his brother. "Bless," he murmered, feeling slightly apprehensive. What would his roommates be like? "Farvel, bror," Lukas replied, pushing a small box into his brother's hand. "Wear this," he whispered quickly, before loping away. Confused, Emil pushed the box into his blazer pocket. No time to worry about that now.
Reaching for his key, he tried to open the door, only for it to swing forwards in front of him. Standing in the doorway, staring back at him with the brightest brown eyes imaginable, was a short chinese boy with choppy dark brown hair. He had thin lips and an oval face, with thick eyebrows that somewhat marred his appearance. This face broke into a small smile upon seeing Emil. "Leon Wang," he put his hand out. Slipping his key back into a blazer pocket, Emil shook it tentatively. "Emil Steilsson." The boy looked slightly confused. "But it says Emil Bonde-" "Irrelevant," Emil cut in. So, uh, which bed's mine?"
Leon led him into the room, where three raised beds with desks underneath them stood against the walls. "Mine's this one," he pointed to the one on the left wall. Emil glanced around. "I'll pick this one then," he pointed to the one on the opposite wall. Leon nodded, and placed Emil's suitcase on the right bed. "I'll unpack it for you, while you look around the dormitory. Is that fine?" Emil nodded, despite feeling uneasy. Strangers didn't usually unpack your clothes for you.
Trying not to look strange, he began to look around the suite. Leon's desk had a laptop on it, not unlike the one Emil had brought. Next to it were photographs of a long-haired man, a shorter haired one, a younger Leon, and a boy and girl around the same age as him. His family? Tearing his eyes away from the photograph, Emil headed towards what looked like the bathroom.
The wooden door swung open easily as he slipped in, the tiles clattering against his shoes. Remembering his manners, the boy took them off and ran back into the bedroom, putting the black leather creations underneath his bed. Emil returned before Leon could get a word in edgeways, and almost crashed into a tall mirror riveted into the wall. Neatly cut blond hair, almost white, hanging loosely over his deep purple eyes. He had been complimented on his eyes many times before, by boys and girls alike, however he disliked them, with their strange magical twinkle and habit of drawing attention to him.
Emil turned to the sink. Maybe he needed a slpash of cold water to help him cool down. Turning the cold tap on, he leaned forwards. Unfortunately, his hand was angled awkwardly, so a jet of water shot into the boy's eye. "GAHH!" Emil exclaimed, tumbling backwards. He dried his eye with a towel provided (this school made their own towels - don't ask) while attempting to turn the cold tap off, soaking the leg of his checked trousers. Leon, thinking something terrible had befallen his new friend, ran into the bathroon to see Emil hopping, water dripping from one leg, and cursing rapidly while desperately trying to stem the flow of tears from his eye.
"Emil, what the everloving-" Emil could hear the boy speaking behind him, but not how far behind; unbalanced, he crashed backwards into Leon. They tumbled into a pile of wet uniforms and towels on the floor, just as the door swung open. Shoot, Emil thought. He had forgotten all about the third roommate, and all the boys could do was watch helplessly as Sebastian Vargas entered the room.
"Oh sorry, did I interrupt anything?" He said in a singsong voice, closing the door behind him. Leon shook his head, dumbfounded by the sheer inconvenience of the timing. Emil, less surprised (things had a habit of not going his way) studied the newcomer. He had a small, chestnut shaped face with light brown hair and a crinkled curl protruding from his head. Sebastian was, as Mathias would describe, adorkable (god, did Emil hate that word).
Only then did the Icelandic boy realise how ridiculously embarrassing the situation was. Leon seemed to realise the same, and they untangled themselves urgently, flushing violently. Why did Emil have to mess up in his first hour of being there? Sebastian, however, didn't seem to notice and merely smiled, heading towards the final bead, which was against the back wall. Damn, Emil wished that he was as carefree as the Italian boy.
Leon cleared his throat after a questionably compelling show of 'Sebastian unpacking his clothes' and spoke. "So, uh, Seb - I can call you that, right?" Seb nodded, turning to Leon. "How are your brothers?" Seb seemed fully engaged now, although his eagerness caught Emil off. "Oh, yes. Feliciano teaches RE and Art here, and Lovino teaches Italian!" He beamed. "And how about yours?" He looked expectantly at the two of them.
"Oh, Yao's fine," Leon replied casually. "And Xiao's also good." Emil looked down. "Lukas is ok.." Seb nodded cheerfully. "Oh, we've got to go in fifteen minutes!" He glanced at his wrist. "Oh wait... my watch is in my bag..." "Em has a watch," Leon interrupted. "Wait, what? No I don't!" Leon seemed amused for some reason. "And don't call me Em!"
"Well, Em," Leon smirked as Emil scowled. "What's that mysterious box in your pocket you've been fingering for the past half hour?" The way he said r made it seem almost like an l, the same way that Emil's slightly rough accent meant he left out some letters. "Oh, that's..." Emil pulled the box out of his pocket and opened it slowly. A watch face looked back at him. Leon and Seb leaned over, with a wonder akin to that of a toddler seeing cake for the first time.
"Oh my! Who gave it to you?" Seb gasped as Emil fitted it on his wrist. Sleek, soft brown leather fitting casually over his skin, a pearlescent oval face with small silver numbering. But what was really special was the small sapphire wings jutting out of the centre, meeting the crystal face neatly. Leon's eyes fell on the faint, engraved lettering across the strap, and Emil's promptly followed. Names of his grandparents, then those of each passing generation until it reached Lukas, then finally Emil. A note lay inside the box. To Emil, my dear bror, it said. I am not expected to ever have children, so this is yours until you pass it on. I stopped wearing it once I fell in love, as I couldn't bear to see my grandparents' names, reminding me of their disapproval. Hope you like it, Lukas.
Emil glanced at the note, then slid it into his pocket. He nodded to Seb's question. "My... brother." He replied, as the Italian smiled. "Cool! But, hey, it's half eight, and we need to be at form by eight thirty-five...