Caspar was having a bad day. He woke up late and only had half an hour to get ready, (which is a lot less than normal for him, he needed to keep his popularity somehow.
If not the brains then the brawns.) In his rush he forgot to pack his jersey which was sitting on the back of his chair, taunting him in his thoughts.
Forgetting his means he had to use one of those extra ones they keep in the back of the gym. The ones that are probably washed once a year and reek of sweat.
Then he had a test in chemistry which he completely forgot about meaning he would either a) fail or b) skip. He could afford to skip this class again, it would be his fifth time this semester.
It was safe to say he didn't get anything higher than a 40%. So yeah. Caspar was agitated. Especially when he realized he was the last one of his friends to get his tattoo.
Alfie, his best friend got it last week, entering the cafeteria yelling 'I've got it! I've got it!'. Caspar doesn't understand why it bothering him so much, though, it never has before.
He thinks he just needs something to blame all of his unrefuted anger on.
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