barracuda
GOD SHE HATES THIS. and you might think, why wednesday, you say that about everything! fuck you man, she actually really hates this. whatâs not to hate about it? you forgo studying to stay up ALL night tending to your baby (your precious fanged geranium, poor thing, coming down with a cold) and yet youâre repaid with NOTHING (not nothing, per say, more like a fat F on your exam and a request put in for a tutor) but more aggravation.Â
and it doesnât help, like, not in the absolute slightest, that the tutor in question had to be the fucking t.a.
                        the. mother. fucking. t.a.Â
that broody, whole world done me wrong fucker? she canât stand him. though itâs not if he did anything to herâitâs just a matter of vibes. and as much as sheâd like to deny being anything like dad, they are both explicitly against hanging out with complete downers. andâwhat else? oh, yeah, itâs the stench of menthols off himâexactly the same brand as dadâs. every inhale around him is like a painstaking reminder of that geriatric mental case she ditched in singapore. ugh.
even now, sitting here and thinking about, wednesday can feel her face darkening, picking incessantly at her lips. she stops at the taste of blood, eyes narrowing when she pulls back and sure enoughâblood on her fingers. fucking great. and all this her supposed âtutorâ is where? smoking break number 2. ass.
she exhales slow, tongue laving over the open cut on her lower lip. thereâs no need to lose her cool, supposedly. it wasnât as if he left her in the dark, more a brisk and chilly fill out the practice quiz iâll be back. but that was at over ten minutes ago and how fucking long does it take a man to smoke a cig??? wednesday scowls, eyes fixing stubbornly on the sheet once more, going over the answers in her head.
sheâll give it five more minutes, before she heads out to rip him a new one. five more minâher eyes flick up at the entrance just in time, scowl deepening at the sight of him. âyah.â yah? YAH? bite your goddamn tongue. youâre not in the states. âare you here to tutor me or what?â switches easily to english, finding it to be a loophole of sorts, evident with the way her words roll off the tongue, edged with indignation.Â
âbecause i donât know any damn tutor who takes two smoking breaks out of an hour session.âÂ
                                                        / @msuelias














