The Boy With The Sight

 A boy of sixteen was gradually rising through the layers of sleep. Blinking off the last flimsy layer, he snuggled into his warm sheets, before starting, and sitting up sharply.
 Crack. The room filled with laughter. The boy grinned and rubbed his head, muttering, “Morning.”
 The nearest boy politely waited until he was halfway down the ladder to his bunk before wrestling him to the floor, “Bagsy the bathroom first!”
 “No way!”
 "You went in first yesterday!”
 And this was how the all-out friendly (ish) fight started, making the boy forget entirely the reason he’d hit his head in the first place.
 He would regret this later.

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A/N: Just a little preface. And yes, this time I actually do have a plot in my head! I promise I will expand this one. :]