#poly!wenclair

incapable of loving from a distance, put me in coach

A/n: I know I left out a piece of this request but I honestly think it’s better if they don’t know. Love means different things to people and to this reader, it means words that are spoken that are for them but only he hears. I would say this is the vocal equivalent of watching your lover from across the room. Idk if that makes any sense.

You were breathing peacefully in the the early morning air, listening to the voices of the birds and other critters that were conversing with each other. 

Being able to understand animals and being able to speak to them meant you were never alone but it also mean you never knew peace. As one of your lovers put it, “Who wants to hear how birds are at four in the morning?” 

You didn’t. You so didn’t. 

“Hey,” the said lover said as she walked out on the balcony that was attached their room.  You often snuck to it early so you could spend the morning before class with them. 

“‘Morning, Blondie. What’s got you up so early?” You said, smiling at her. Sleep still very much painted on her. Messy hair, barely open eyes and wrinkled pajamas. “Le soleil brille, les oiseaux chantent et vous avez l'air épuisé. Got enough beauty sleep?”

“No. It’s cause of them.” She motioned at the birds.

You laughed, “They’re planning their day.” 

“Tell them to do it else where.” She groaned. 

“Totemo kawaii ne.” 

She looked at you with a slightly annoyed expression, “It is too Ra for these games, dude.”

You rolled your eyes, “Imagine not being able to figure it out.”

She huffed as she turned, “I know kawaii means cute so I’m not helpless.”

“But hopeless?” You asked, smirk appearing on your face. 

“Shut it.” 

Wednesday was typing on her typewriter when she heard the door open. It was a coin-toss to whether it was you or Enid. Loud clomping of your boots gave it away. 

“Hello.” She said.

“Hey amor, qué estás escribiendo?”

She rolled her eyes but never stopped typing, “Yo también sé español. y para responder a su pregunta, estoy escribiendo el capítulo final de mi libro.”

You scoffed, “You’re no fun.” You thought for a moment, “Kashiko-sa to utsukushi-sa wa subarashī kumiawasedesu.”

She took her hands away from the type writer and turned to look at you, “You’ve got me. I have no idea what you are saying.”

You smiled, “Perfect.” You said as you walked to her desk to read what she had written so far. 

“Tu es un grand écrivain, mon amour à l'esprit sombre.” You said after reading. You then looked at the time, “Oh parting is such sweet sorrow but I gotta go to bed. Bonne nuit, je rêverai de toi et d'elle.”