Weisse had actually woken up much earlier in the morning, sometime around four. It was too early to do anything major, but for some reason he just couldn't get back to sleep.
Fortunately, he had just the thing for it.
As quietly as he could, he snaked a hand into his bag to rummage about for it. When he had it, he took his towel and tiptoed into the bathroom, taking great care not to wake his slumbering room-mate.
Which as much stealth as he could muster, he disrobed and put the shower on low pressure - that way, it was quiet but there was enough water to get cleaned. He didn't wait for the water to heat up, just went straight in, letting his body adapt to the cold.
Taking the pot of fluid, Weisse rubbed a small amount on his hands, then started to wash himself. He started with his hair, then moved on to his face. Despite being sixteen years old, he hadn't had even a single spot or zit. His teeth were naturally straight, too. Most people his age had or were getting braces, but he didn't need them.
It had always been like that. Out of his family, freinds, classmates, everyone he met really, he was the pretty one.
Hmph. Pretty. Not handsome, but pretty. Bella, non Bello. How pitiful
On more than one occasion he'd been mistaken for a girl. Around the town he lived in, his family was reffered to as "That European girl and her three daughters." Once, he had been walking with his two neices when they bumped into a couple of the older one's freinds. The first thing one of them said was "Woah, Leisel, I didn't know you had two sisters." Perhaps the most embarassing moment was when, just last year, a boy came up to him and started flirting, which doesn't sound to spectacular, until Weisse asked, in his big-eyed, clueless way "Are you talking to me?" and the boy returned with "D'you see any other cute girls around here?"
Weisse sighed as he thought of his sister. She dealt with him, true, but she didn't like him. At all. She was about 18 when he was born, so he didn't really know her until recently. To her, every man was the enemy and she'd passed this ideaology on to her daughters. Weisse, to them, was just another lust-filled jerk who wanted to use women to satisfy his own ego. Or rather, they used to think that, until they learned he was a submissive coward who didn't offer a second glance at women, or men.
He moved on, working on his chest and back, grimacing as his hands brushed the horizontal scars that marred them. It didn't hurt, but the fact they were there made one thing all too clear - girls could be cruel if they wanted. They were a symbol of his weakness, of his failure almost. In the words of his sister, he was a weak, pathetic dog who's only role in life was to keep his masters happy. His neices thought he might like a reminder of this lowly position.
When he was fully washed, he turned the shower off and stepped out, wrapping himself in the warm embrace of his towel. He dried himself off and hung it over the provided rail.
His stuff was already starting to take effect - he felt more tired already. Happy, he snuck back to bed, relishing the warm embrace of the covers. He fell asleep pretty quickly