oxicodone
แดสแด สแดแดแดแดสแด แด๊ฐ สแดษชษดษข แดสษชแด แด
"Sorry," Ayden murmurs, half a smile lighting his face. The student, hardly aware she'd been bumped into, offers her attention (also halved), something of an uh, what? and it's fine before turning back to her friends. She doesn't spare him any space. So, again, Ayden has to apologize his way through her little crowd. And, sure โ he's thankful that they're too preoccupied with their conversation to pay him any real mind, having chosen to squeeze his way to a seat instead of simply picking one on the sides 'n all โ but here's what happens:
"... see him? He's right there," she scoffs. Her friends make no effort to hide their perked heads, glaring in the direction she points to like there's a devil on the other side of the room.
"I swear he's not sane."
"He's fuckin' weird, man. Tells me one day, out of the blue, to break up with Iris. For no fuckin' reason! And, like, he kept pestering me about it, over and over."
"Why the hell would you even hang with him?"
Doesn't mean to eavesdrop, really, he'd swear it, but by the time Ayden's stepped away from them, he's already heard enough. His brows twist; he faces away. Decides that looking at the guy would paint him guilty. Decides he will forget every word, and โ
"Alright, let's begin," calls the professor. Conversations across the classroom wither into silence. Ayden shuffles awkwardly past another two or three students before dropping in the first empty seat he finds.
Breathes out; adjusts the hem of his striped button-up and paints over his expression something new. A slight lift to the corners of his lips.
"Sorry," he says probably for the umpteenth time that day. A whisper, hopefully caught over the voice booming through the professor's earpiece: "do you have a pen on you?"
"... see him? He's right there," she scoffs. Her friends make no effort to hide their perked heads, glaring in the direction she points to like there's a devil on the other side of the room.
"I swear he's not sane."
"He's fuckin' weird, man. Tells me one day, out of the blue, to break up with Iris. For no fuckin' reason! And, like, he kept pestering me about it, over and over."
"Why the hell would you even hang with him?"
Doesn't mean to eavesdrop, really, he'd swear it, but by the time Ayden's stepped away from them, he's already heard enough. His brows twist; he faces away. Decides that looking at the guy would paint him guilty. Decides he will forget every word, and โ
"Alright, let's begin," calls the professor. Conversations across the classroom wither into silence. Ayden shuffles awkwardly past another two or three students before dropping in the first empty seat he finds.
Breathes out; adjusts the hem of his striped button-up and paints over his expression something new. A slight lift to the corners of his lips.
"Sorry," he says probably for the umpteenth time that day. A whisper, hopefully caught over the voice booming through the professor's earpiece: "do you have a pen on you?"
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ยฉ weldherwings.