Bored God and Excited Boy

A heavy silence filled the room, only interrupted by the soft rustle of sheets as Logan Sinclair woke up. The curtains were tightly drawn, blocking the morning light and casting long shadows on the cluttered floor. He blinked sleepily, stretched his arms, and a grin spread across his face.

"Ah, sleeping until you wake up naturally... nothing beats that," Logan murmured to himself, his voice still thick with sleep.

He reached for his smartphone on the bedside table, the cold glass screen lighting up with missed notifications—mostly irrelevant messages, group chats, and app updates. But when he saw the time at the top of the screen, his heart sank. 10:30 AM.

It hit him like a punch. He shot up in bed, the warm comfort now gone. "Sh**t! I'm late again," he hissed through clenched teeth. "No... I'm not late... I'm already an hour and a half late!" Panic mixed with disbelief in his voice.

In a rush, Logan jumped out of bed, pulling on the first clothes he could find—a crumpled t-shirt and jeans, barely decent, but he didn't have time to worry. He struggled with his shoes, cursing under his breath as he wondered how he could let this happen—again.

Minutes later, Logan was out the door, sprinting through the crowded streets, weaving between people on his way to the subway. His breath was short, his mind racing with excuses for his professor. This is the sixth time, he thought bitterly. I need to come up with something good.

When Logan reached the university, his heart raced from the run and the anxiety. He pushed through the heavy classroom door, slipping in quietly, hoping to blend into the background. The class was in full swing, but someone quickly noticed him.

"Logan!" a familiar voice called out. Logan froze, slowly turning to see Professor Jack Hayes at the front of the class, arms crossed with a smirk.

"Did you spend all night coding again?" Professor Hayes asked, his tone light but edged with sarcasm. "This has to be a world record—six times in a row! Congratulations."

Logan managed a sheepish grin, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. "Yeah... sorry about that. Sometimes I just... forget to check the clock when I'm coding."

The professor chuckled and shook his head. "Another new excuse, huh? I've heard them all. Alright, just take a seat, Logan. Try not to be too disruptive."

Logan nodded quickly, his cheeks burning with embarrassment as he made his way to the back of the room, sinking into one of the last empty chairs. The professor continued the lesson, but Logan's mind wandered, far away from the lecture on machine learning algorithms.

Despite his talent for coding and participation in class, Logan struggled with paperwork and assignments. He thrived in discussions and debates, but when it came to filling out forms or writing reports, he lost interest.

Most of the time, he spent his free hours watching anime. It was his escape, a way to unwind after long hours in front of his computer. He loved fantasy anime, drawn in by the magic and otherworldly powers. He often daydreamed—What if magic was real? What if he could cast spells or have supernatural abilities? He didn't need to be as powerful as the protagonists; even a little magic would be enough.

But sometimes, his thoughts turned darker. He'd ponder life and death, ideas that fascinated him as much as anime. What is death really like? he often wondered. What happens when we die? Do we just stop existing, or is there something more? Could you be reborn with all your memories intact? What would it be like to be a newborn but with the mind of someone over twenty years old?

These thoughts haunted him, but not out of fear. He was curious, captivated by the mystery. When he was alone in bed with his thoughts, he'd whisper to himself: "I guess I'll just have to wait until I die to find out."

It was a strange comfort—odd to say, but it felt natural to Logan. He'd always been a thinker, a dreamer, questioning the world around him and seeking answers to difficult questions.

As the class continued, Logan stared out the window, watching clouds drift lazily across the sky, lost once again in those impossible thoughts.