I have so much free time it's so surreal

I got the title from a song of the same name by Cavetown, because it reminds me of Lloyd

The very first thing Lloyd can remember is his uncle's face, worried and almost angry. He was saying something, but the boy couldn't understand it. He remembers, for some reason, exactly what he was doing while his uncle was speaking to someone he didn't know: he was eating strawberries, squatting down to watch some ants. He gave them half a strawberry earlier, and somehow it was almost entirely gone already.

"Lloyd?" The boy looked up, his uncle was standing over him, grey eyes softening in compassion as he saw what his nephew was doing. Wu sighed and placed a gentle hand on Lloyd's shoulder. "Come along. You've got to get going now."

The blond child sniffed, blinked and stood up. "Where?"

"A school. Your mother wants you to go there; she believes you'll be safe."

He didn't know who his mother was, or what she wanted to protect him from, but Lloyd trusted his uncle and followed him to the monastery gates, which were open. Red eyes wide, Lloyd peered through them. He'd never seen the steps leading down the mountain, never seen the clouds surrounding the mountaintop. In fact, he'd never seen anything outside the monastery before.

There was a woman standing outside the gates, and try as he might, Lloyd could never recall her features after that day. But she took his hand and lead him down the steps, even as the boy looked over his shoulder at his uncle, who briefly wore a stormy expression before turning and heading back inside.

The next thing he remembers is staring up at an intimidating building, before the strange woman pulled him through the door, where he was hit with a wave of cold. Lloyd didn't like the cold, nor did he like the lady at the front desk, who was leering down at him.

Then he was sitting in a dull blue plastic chair and the desk-lady was staring disappointedly at him, her bright green lips moving to tell him that, apparently, he lived here now and his father was an evil man named Lord Garmadon. Alright. He never met his father, either, and Wu never spoke of him.

Lloyd swung his legs as he sat in the chair, which was too tall for him, staring at his scuffed-up sneakers, at the frayed ends of his too-small jeans. He looked up and saw a boy, a little older than himself, with brown hair and a scowl.

"Get up," He commanded, so Lloyd slid off the chair. "I'm Brad Tudabone. Follow me."

The two shuffled down a dark hallway, their breaths and footfalls echoing eerily around them. Well, Lloyd though it was eerie; Brad seemed unconcerned.

They stopped in front of a closet, which Brad opened, them rifled through and came out holding a set of clothes.

"Put those on," He said, shoving them at Lloyd. "It's the uniform. They only come in one size, too, so you might wanna find a belt or something."

Peering over the stack of folded clothes in his arms, Lloyd trotted after the new boy as he lead him off again. This time, it was to a bathroom, where he told Lloyd to put on his uniform. He did, although the shirt was too big and bunched up under the scratchy jacket, and the trousers were even bigger than his old ones, and the dress shoes wouldn't fit even if he had 10 pairs of socks to wear under them.

When he walks out, even before Brad laughs, Lloyd knows he looks ridiculous. His old clothes never really fit him and were always worn-out, but at least they were comfortable.

After his laughter subsided, Brad asked Lloyd his name, as he took his old clothes to go and throw away.

"Lloyd," He answered, trailing the brunette, tripping over the pant-legs, even though he'd rolled them up to swirl around his ankles. "Lloyd Garmadon."

Brad stopped short, whipping around. "Garmadon? As in Lord Garmadon?!"

"I think so."

The taller boy, for the first time since Lloyd met him, smiled. "No way! That's wicked- wait 'til Gene hears about this!"

Lloyd smiled, but he wasn't happy. "When do I go home?"

Brad's grin faded, "You don't. And don't talk about your 'home' either, or else the other boys will make it way worse. Got it?"

"...oh," The blond boy nodded, still trying to smile. "Got it."

He didn't, though. Not really. Not yet.

oOo

Lloyd was 5 when he arrived at Darkley's School for Bad Boys. 5 years old is, objectively, far too young to be dropped into a hostile new world, being told you'll never go home or see your family again. Naturally, as night fell and Lloyd had time to collect his thoughts and realize what all this meant, he began to cry.

It really wasn't even noticeable at first; just twin drops trailing down his pale olive face. But once it started, Lloyd couldn't stop it, and soon enough he was bawling hysterically, sitting cross-legged on the bottom bed of a bunk he shared with Brad in the dormitory. There wouldn't have been too much trouble if it had just been the two of them, either, but the dormitory was where all the boys slept, in the duel rows of bunk beds.

"Awww, is he cwying," One of the older boys, Rai Hanjaya, sneered, grinning cruelly at the sobbing boy. "What a baby."

Another tween, Scott Stewert, snorted, standing up and walking over to stand over Lloyd, who by this point, had caught on and was trying his best to stop his tears.

"Listen, pipsqueak," Scott said condescendingly. "Around here, we don't cry."

Then, with practiced familiarity, Scott punched him in the mouth. Like piranhas, the rest of the boys seemed enchanted by the prospect of violence- which had, by this point, been engraved into their very beings- jumped at the chance to help beat up a little kid. Maybe it was because of their sadistic jeering, or because Lloyd was screaming, but eventually, a teacher came into the dormitory and told them to all go to bed. He didn't even check to see if Lloyd was okay, just turned out the lights and walked out.

Over an hour later, when Lloyd's uncontrollable flow of tears finally waned, he sat up and hugged his knees to his chest, still sniffling a little. He missed his uncle and the monastery. Whimpering, he forced himself to his feet and shuffled into the bathroom, the glaring fluorescent lights stinging his watery eyes.

Staring in the mirror, Lloyd wondered how so much could change in just one day. That morning, he was eating strawberries with his uncle, the bright red juice dripping down his face. There was red smeared over his face still, but it was from his nose rather than berries.

The water was cold when Lloyd washed his face off. Everything was cold here- the air, the water, the people.

When Lloyd looked back into the mirror, he saw a tall shadow behind him, with glowing red eyes strikingly similar to his own.

"Lloyd?"

Turning around, the blond boy saw that the shadow was, indeed, not a figment of his imagination and truly there. He blinked, his mouth dropped open, and he could think of no words.

"My- my son? You're so big now! How old are you?"

"I, uh, I'm 5," He said. "Are you Lord Garmadon?"

The shadow tilted his head, regarding the child in front of him. "I am."

"The lady at the desk said you're evil."

"I am," Garmadon said, too quickly, as if on impulse. He sighed, then added, "I did not choose to be."

Then, he looked at Lloyd's face, his busted lip and black eye, and asked, "What happened? Did you fall?"

Lloyd shook his head, "The boys beat me up. I didn' even do anything! I just miss Uncle, and I was crying, and they hit me."

Lord Garmadon sighed, a range of emotions flashing through his bright eyes, not least of all rage.

"Listen, son," He said softly. "If you need to cry, don't let the other boys see it. They will take it as a sign of weakness and make you their victim. You must show them that you are strong."

"I'll try..." Then, after a moment of consideration, he added, "...Dad."

The shadow smiled and Lloyd saw that he had fangs, just like the boy himself. But he faded a moment later, leaving Lloyd by himself again.

He turned back to the mirror, looking at his ruby eyes and sharp teeth.

"I'm mean," He said to his reflection. "I'm the son of Lord Garmadon. I won't cry again. I'll make the other boys cry! I'll be strong."

Of course, his resolve diminished when he returned to a bed full of fire ants.

This is so badddddd ugh

But I'm excitied to write the next chapter so its fine