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Our Hometown's In The Dark

Chapter Text

Pallet was pristine, and even that was an understatement.
It was the fucking heaven of Ohio.
Perfect, large white mansions were the homes of the wealthy, intelligent residents. The grass was green year-round, the private high school had a large population of Harvard bound students, and the gem of the entire area was the large, beautiful, and basically perfect in every way opera. Pallet City had a spotless reputation, and every single inhabitant wanted to keep it that way.
Out of all the residents, though, it was kind of obvious that the Joseph family was the best of them all.
The Joseph Opera, built in 1983, was run by the family. Every firstborn son was destined to lead the establishment once they graduated from college. Tyler was the firstborn of this generation, and he was eighteen as of now.
Actually, as of now, Tyler felt like total shit. He had to get up at 6:30, and this was bad because Tyler was not a morning person. His calendar smiled a broken grin at him from his bedroom wall, with red lines on every box except for several blanks. Today was a blank box, but he knew he had a lot more to do then what met the eye. He scowled at the annoying sheet of paper. Wasn’t it funny how he had to be a slave to it? Wasn’t it funny how he did everything for scholarships he didn’t need? Uphold his spotless reputation that he so hated?
He sighed. Tyler knew he was so lucky so have this life, but he really didn’t want it. He managed to shuffle out of his bed and then go downstairs, entering the kitchen where a maid was making some kind of fancy eggs.
“Good morning, Tyler! Did you sleep well?” Asked his mother.
“Well enough,” he muttered, grabbing a yoghurt from the fridge (which was of the highest quality, manufactured in some city in Germany that Tyler couldn’t pronounce). “And you?” He asked in a louder tone.
“I slept fine. Don’t you want an omelet?” she asked.
“No thank you, I need to eat quickly.” He said politely.
After a couple seconds, he had managed to shove the dairy down his throat and go upstairs, where he brushed his teeth, styled his hair, and applied some deodorant.
He glanced at his bathroom mirror and saw all the imperfections on his skin. He stared at his mother’s makeup, longing to feel the brushes, thick with powder, on his skin, the wet mascara on his eyelashes, the soft pink lipstick…
No, Tyler. A voice in his head told him. Makeup is for girls. You’re not a girl.
So, he went out the front door with his car keys and drove to school. He had to get there early. Usually his siblings tagged along with him, but today he was helping with the planning of the spring fair and had to be there at seven in the morning.
After a couple minutes, he parked his brand-new, shiny Mercedes in the school parking lot.
Tyler took in the fresh morning air, wanting to skip school to hang out with friends, smoke weed, graffiti some expensive buildings and basically ruin everybody else’s lives. He had money for anything he wanted, but his reputation…
He really hated his life.