#mallette

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malmchale15: A year ago, a girl from Tinder invited me out to Gusteau's and very infamously said, "Behave? Where's the fun in that?" I think I'll keep her for another year.

   it was NICE, so nice spending time with her. it made andrew feel WARM inside, safe. it was even better when they were able to see each other outside of his work. they had been doing that MORE recently, and he couldn’t complain. veronica made his life feel BRIGHT again, he hadn’t felt something this real before. this type of HAPPINESS.

   he’s draped across his bed in his apartment, laying on his stomach, elbows pressed into his mattress, using his hands as a rest for his chin. he’s STARING at her, and he doesn’t really know for how long. his mind got lost in her, sometimes. most of the time. 

   THERE IS A SMIRK playing at your lips, half concealed if poorly so, eyes sparkling with a fascinated charm. She had seemed such a quiet and terrified thing when you met, to see her come out as headstrong and spitfire when it is just the two of you brings a warm sense of proud satisfaction. You do not know how long it has been since she was allowed to show this side of herself or what caused her to turn inwards at all, but to see her begin to reclaim the space she occupies is a beautiful thing.

    “ AND I WOULDN’T expect you to, ” You say, leaning forward so that your elbows rest on your knees, watching and listening as keen as a hawk tracking a rodent through the fields. She is frustrated. Something about a professor or maybe another student, she hasn’t been the most clear. Your instinct is to get involved, to stand up on her behalf, but it would seem particularly patronizing considering her current focus on her own ability. Perhaps this could all serve as a flash point for her re-ignition outside of just the two of you. Even as the the thought occurs you are doubtful, you know it takes more to heal than a single instance of boldness. But the thought is nice.

𝗪𝗛𝗢 𝗔𝗥𝗘   you  to  tell  me  it’ll  always  be  this  way?  ❜ 

grades    go    out    the    second    to    last    thursday    of    every    month.    freddie’s    too    wired    to    notice    this,    but    the    other    kids    do.    they    brace    themselves    against    their    desks    as    the    teacher    walks    into    the    room,    carrying    badges    of    either    success,    and    happy    parents,    or    failure.

normally,    freddie    wouldn’t    care.    his    dad    gave    up    on    forcing    him    to    try    to    get    good    grades    when    his    mother    died.    and    besides,    even    freddie’s    teachers,    at    the    mandatory    conferences    when    he    was    younger,    admitted    he    didn’t    really    have    a    mind    for    academia.

so    when    a    failing    grade    notice    slip    is    placed    in    front    of    his    face,    he    doesn’t    give    much    thought    to    it    until    he    notices    the    signature    line,    for    his    parents    to    sign,    at    the    bottom    of    the    page.    FUCK.

but    freddie    doesn’t    panic.    he    asks    around    a    few    places,    and    finds    out    what    he    needs    to    know.    personally,    he’s    a    little    shocked    that    the    future    valedictorian    is    involved    in    a    life    of    crime.    but    he    isn’t    one    to    question    the    good    intel.

he    stops    by    veronica’s    locker    on    the    way    out    of    school.    she’s    there—    and    surrounded    by    heathers.    the    scent    of    perfume    and    hairspray    drifts    over    him,    and    for    a    moment,    he    forgets    what    he’s    doing.    but    the    moment    passes,    and    he    simply    speaks    over    the    heads    of    (    one    of    )    the    heathers.