It feels like I've been shot in the head.

Groaning, I roll over, expecting to see someone next to me, but there's no one. My body does tell me something happened last night— she must've left already.

After coffee, a cold shower, and a cigarette, I'll feel better. So I stand up, stretching. My muscles crack in a pleasant way.

I'm about to step out of my room, then stop myself. I'm in boxers only. No one has to see me like that in the morning, especially not Sander. I don't even like it when he looks at me while I'm fully dressed.

Quickly, I slip some clothes on. My head pounds with each movement. I drank way too much last night. I barely remember what happened at some point. But it'll come back to me eventually.

Sander's has both his hands wrapped around a mug when I reveal myself. Immediately, he looks up. "Hi."

I nod a bit and walk past him, grabbing myself a coffee as well before I sink down onto the couch.

"How're you?" He asks.

"Fine."

His gaze lingers on me like he's expecting something. I don't give him much to work with, my head pounding too much to deal with anyone this early.

"Do you have plans today?" he also asks.

I glance at him over the rim of my mug. "I'll see."

"Right."

Another silence falls. I'm about to grab my phone, but his eyes pierce through me.

"Why are you staring at me?" I ask sharply.

"I'm not."

"Yeah, you are. What's your problem?"

"Nothing," he says quickly. "No problem."

I narrow my eyes but let it drop. Sander's quiet again. He watches me for a second longer before standing abruptly, taking his coffee to the sink. His back is to me, shoulders stiff.

There's a knock on the door. Sander hurries to open it. Not a second later, Sonya, Thomas, and Minho are swarming through the room.

"Where did you come from?" I wonder out loud, confused.

"I stayed at theirs for the night." Sonya points at Thomas and Minho. "Didn't want to... interrupt whatever was happening here."

Before I get to reply, Sander murmurs something in her ear. Sonya's face falls. "What?" Lost, I watch her gaze turn cold. "You... you little shit!"

My frown deepens. "Sorry?"

"How could you do that?"

"Do what?" My eyes flash over to Sander. "The hell did you tell her? I didn't do nothing!"

"You're pretending like nothing happened," Sonya says harshly.

"What are you talking about?!"

"See!" She throws her hands in the air. "Quit being such a jerk, Newt."

"Eh, I think he genuinely doesn't know what's going on," Thomas points out. Meanwhile, Minho has grabbed himself a drink, casually leaning against the counter as he watches.

"Indeed, I don't. Mind clearing this up?"

Sander slams a hand to Sonya's mouth, eyes wide. He shakes his head heavily.

"Well?"

Sonya rips Sander's hand off her. "Never even mind."

"No, now you have to tell me," I urge.

"Anyway—" Thomas jumps in. "Let's go make breakfast together."

"No." I stand up from the couch. "Tell me what's going on."

"What's going on..." he repeats, humming. "We'll talk about that later. I'm starving. Come help."

Thomas pulls me toward the kitchen, but my head is still throbbing, and my patience is paper-thin. I pull my arm away from his grip.

"Someone better start explaining before I lose my mind."

"You clearly already lost it a while ago." 

"Relax, Sonya," Minho says, grinning lazily. "Newt's just in a bad mood. Not everyone can wake up looking as good as you do."

She rolls her eyes. "Shut up."

"Tell me what's going on," I repeat, ignoring them.

"I didn't— I didn't mean for—" Sander stammers, backing up slightly. "Let's just ignore this. It's not you'll end up feeling good once you know."

"That makes it even worse," I spit out.

"I'm just gonna say it— whatever's going on, it's really entertaining. Keep going," Minho encourages.

Sonya elbows him in the ribs. "Minho, seriously."

"What? I'm just saying."

Thomas groans, running a hand through my hair. "Can you two flirt somewhere else? Some of us are trying to have a conversation here."

Sonya steps back from Minho with a scowl, while Sander looks like he's about two seconds from fainting.

"Never mind. This is pointless," I mutter, pinching the bridge of my nose.

Sander's head jerks up, his expression a mix of relief and disappointment at the same time.

But as I walk out of the kitchen, his voice stops me. "Wait," he says.

I turn. "What?"

He doesn't answer right away, swallowing as he struggles to find the words. "You really don't remember?"

"No. And it's not like you're very open to telling me, so stop looking so upset," I snap.

✧

The next day is a Monday. I'm finally on time in class and not tired at all. Slept quite well. Maybe because no one was next to me. I like my peace.

"Aris Jones, an A," Jorge calls out.

Right. That was the kid with the cap a two weeks ago.

"Brenda Vos, a C. Gally Thatcher, a C. Jeff Larkin, a D. Minho Lee, a D."

Minho pats himself on the chest, proud, then gives Sander a triumphant look.

"Newton Isaacs, an A." Relief floods through me. My day has been made. "Sander Lovette, a B. Siggy Fry, an A. Teresa Agnes, an A. Thomas Edison, a B."

No one ever really gets an F for Jorge's class. Even if you did really bad, he tries to give as many points as possible.

"Yeah, go ahead and chitchat. I need to speak to some of you anyway." He walks up the stand until he reaches Minho. He's practically behind me, so I can hear what he's saying, "Tell me why you used curse words in the assignment."

"To outer my inner opinions," Minho says simply.

"Even if your inner opinion is that the economy is fucked up, you can word it differently." A few laughs rise at Jorge's curse. "But okay, a D is probably an A to you."

"Correct."

Jorge chuckles lowly before he steps away. I'm surprised when he stops in front of me. In fact, he crouches down to be face-to-face. "Isaacs, you alright?" He asks, tone for my ears only.

"Yeah?"

"Why are you asking me for confirmation?"

"I don't know?"

"Stop doing that."

"Sorry. Either way, is something wrong?"

Jorge takes the printed copy of my assignment and puts it down on the table, pointing at a few red, underlined sentences.

There's a point where exhaustion isn't physical anymore; it's in your soul, and you just stop fighting it.

The most painful part isn't leaving, it's thinking you've stayed too long.

They tell you to be yourself, but the moment you try, it feels like there's no place for you in their world.

Egoistic suicide isn't about selfishness. It's about the crushing realization that you no longer fit in the world around you.

When isolation turns into disconnection, the mind starts questioning its right to exist.

The weight of self-blame grows heavier when you're convinced you've failed to find your place.

Sometimes it feels easier to disappear than to confront a world that won't accept the real you.

You start to wonder if it's better to lie to everyone, including yourself, than to risk them seeing the truth.

"What about it?" I lean back, forcing a confused look.

"You sure everything's okay?"

I blink. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just... writing the assignment. The one you gave."

"I get that you were supposed to write about Durkheim's theory, but these lines here—" he taps the paper "—they sound personal."

I try to brush it off by shrugging. "It's just stuff I thought about while writing. Doesn't mean anything."

He leans in a little closer, lowering his voice even more. "You can talk to me if you need to, Newt. About anything."

I feel my throat tighten. I hate this. I force a half-smile, but my stomach twists. "I'm good, Jorge. Really."

He doesn't seem convinced, yet he nods, standing up straight again. "Alright. Just remember, I'm here if you change your mind."

I don't look at him as he walks away. I thought I could hide it behind words, but it doesn't work that way. I'm trapped in my own head, and no amount of words will fix that.

"Next up," Jorge is back at his desk, voice echoing through the room, "the new assignment. You know I prefer assignments over tests, and I'm sure you do, too. You'll be working in groups of three, and there's one group of four. It's going to get you thinking about the family, and I mean really thinking about it. Family is one of those things we all know on a personal level, but sociologists—us, hopefully—look at it from a different angle. You're not just going to write about what families are, but how they change and how society shapes them. Cool? So, listen up."

Jorge paces a bit, clicking his pen before continuing.

"The task is to pick a specific aspect of family structure or dynamics, something like gender roles, parenting styles, or how family types have changed over time. But don't just write a simple description. I want you to explore it sociologically. That means using theories, data, and real-world examples. You can't just say 'families have changed,' and leave it at that. I want you to explain why and how these changes happen. And, most importantly, you need to use theories—functionalist, feminist, conflict theory, et cetera—to back up your points.

"For example, you could look at how the 'traditional family' has evolved. We're talking about the nuclear family—mom, dad, kids—and how that's changed over the decades. Has society moved away from that ideal? Why, or why not? You can use feminist theory to talk about how gender roles in the family have shifted. Or you might dive into the rise of single-parent families, blended families, or even same-sex couples raising kids. I want you to dig deep."

He stops and leans against the desk.

"You also have to pick a case study—real life examples. You can interview someone, look at a particular family structure in the media, or even research statistics. Make it relevant. This assignment is your chance to see how the theories we're learning about apply to the world around us.

"I want each group to create a 10-15 minute presentation. You'll summarize your research, explain how sociological theories apply. If you can bring in media clips or images to back up your points, go for it. Afterward, you'll turn in a five to seven page report—no less, more is allowed. You've got to include your theories and research, of course. Use academic sources, please, no random internet blogs."

I look around the room. How many kids here have family issues? I can't be the only one. Awesome. Gonna be real fun.

"Any questions? No? Good. I'll be around if you need anything." Jorge grabs a paper off his table. "These are the groups: Thomas, Minho, Gally, Brenda. Group two: Newt, Teresa, Siggy. Lastly: Aris, Jeff, Sander."

Teresa and Siggy— who most people call by his last name: Fry. I haven't spoken much to them before, but it seems alright. Both got A's for the previous assignment, so this is ought to go well.

"I expect this to be handed in... in about three weeks. Again, more information is to be found online."

✧

A/n: I can't find what classes Sociology 101 includes anywhere so that's why there hasn't been much about their college yet. Anyone got any ideas?? Doesn't matter if it's not like that in real life, just need ideas.

Jorge probably teaches something like Sociological Theories...? Idk, I have a few ideas for the other classes, but I need your opinions!!

Hope you enjoyed, have a good day/night ❤︎︎