far from perfect

* &. HATE/LOVE RELATIONSHIP: life for muse a and muse b consisted of constant bickering, malicious scheming, and an overall disastrous relationship. the two despised one another. muse a was cocky, flirtatious, and a heart breaker. but also charming, charismatic, and unpredictable at best. muse b was cynical, stubborn, and had a “say it how it is” mindset. but they were also intelligent, kindhearted, and beyond talented. people understood why the two were always butting heads and would often times joke that the two would end up getting married one day. taking into consideration they already acted like a married couple. muse a would gag and muse b would respond with a remark to bash on the other. people would always question why they wouldn’t just stay away from each other. but neither of them had an answer for that question. they always gravitated back to each other, even if they didn’t want to. (based on chair aka blair and chuck.)

“Well, when is the right time?”

“Well, uh — I don’t know.”

Tentatively his feet shuffled closer to the source of the screeching until he was close enough to make out the bodies. The larger of the two had his back turned to Owen, but the apparent victim in the matter was Katie Matlin. He didn’t know much about her outside of whatever student council nonsense she was cramming down Degrassi’s throat at any given time, but when the male in front of her raised his arm, reeling back, it didn’t matter how little Owen cared for her. Instinct took over, propelling Owen forward towards the perpetrator. “Hey!” He boomed, catching the attention of both and the wrist of one. The other male was facing Owen then in time to be delivered a forceful blow to the face. He went down in one fell swoop and Owen stood awkwardly in the new found silence before glancing up to Katie. “Uh… are you okay?” He asked, wondering whether his help was completely required to begin with, not that an answer would make much difference now.

Seconds passed before she realized that the athletic male had asked her a question. “Y—Yeah, of course I am,” she stammered, rapidly shaking her head. She pulled the sleeve of her sweater up to reveal the beginnings of a new bruise, wincing as the blue fabric brushed up against the sensitive area. “Thank you for, uh —” she trailed off, gesturing towards the male on the floor, unsure of how to phrase this expression of gratitude. Somehow, 'thank you for knocking my boyfriend out,’ didn’t seem like an appropriate response. She cleared her throat before continuing. “Things would’ve been a lot worse if you hadn’t shown up. So, thank you. I owe you one.”

“Fine. You don’t want to kiss me? Your loss.”

“No, that’s not what I’m trying to say, Fi. I just don’t think now is the right time.”

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“God, Katie, lighten up a little.  Nothing wrong with a little  experimentation.”

“You say that like it’s a science project or something.”

That was the one sign Owen never wanted to solidify that things were not being patched up and that he wouldn’t be getting her back. The theme of the day flip flopped between self pity and anger, the latter consuming him at the moment. He’d slipped out of class early, preparing to drop off his books and head to the field, but the universe had different plans for him this afternoon. He was usually alone in the halls around this time, but now he could hear a faint shuffle across the banks of lockers, hushed voices going back and forth. He wasn’t invested enough to try to make out what was being said, too irritated to care much either way. Reaching his locker, he tugged open the lock, tossing in his textbooks and rounding the hall towards the locker room when the voices began to get louder, more frantic if he wasn’t mistaken. Curiosity consumed him and he slowed his pace, keeping quiet as he searched for the source of the scuffle.

Katie tried to brush him off, since they were getting close to Simpson’s office and she didn’t want to give the authority figure any reason to look down on her. Besides, because she was the retaliator, she could still escape punishment, and she would use her status to her advantage. However, she knew things were going to be as simple when the male grabbed her wrist and pulled her back towards him. She winced as pain shot up her arm, and immediately remembered what led her to break up with the male in the first place. She promised herself that she would never let this happen to her again, but it was now obvious that she had failed. “Let me go!” she shrieked, trying to escape his grasp, but to no avail. His grip on her was too strong, and no amount to twisting, turning, or tugging could get him to release it. “I’ll call the fucking cops on you. Let me go!” she repeated, this time, with more desperation in her voice.