❝ I AM A DECEASED, FEARSOME ENTITY, AND YOU ARE ASKING ME TO CLEAN YOUR DOG'S SHIT ? ❞
━━━ the chances of summoning a ghost while cooking a bowl of chicken soup are low, but never zero.
[ scaramouche x fem!reader ]
[ modern au ]
[ REWRITIN...
───── 💌! ❝ I think about you, all the time, 24/7, 365 ❞
[ 365 — Zedd, Katy Perry]
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I had been successfully persuaded to go back to my disaster of a house.
Itto had spilt his lukewarm tea over my pyjamas on accident, grinning ear to ear as he suggested bringing out his unique collection of attires for me to choose from. I instantly denied his offer, sticking to my closet instead. I could brave my way through the horrors for a couple of minutes just to look slightly presentable, but I wouldn't settle for tees with inspirational quotes printed on the front. I wasn't that much of a coward.
Or maybe I was, I thought, standing in my doorway, unable to move my legs.
Without even so much as sparing a glance at my bloodied, dirty kitchen that looked like a warzone, I dashed inside and headed upstairs, changing into whatever my hands managed to grab while Itto waited for me outside. If Scaramouche was here—which I doubted he was, because there was a warmth around me that he certainly couldn't have brought with him—watching me, I hoped he didn't mind my loud curses. Not like his pretty mouth was any better.
I stepped out, made sure to lock the house this time around, and threw my school bag at Itto. I couldn't be bothered with another burden on my shoulders.
My phone, I left behind on purpose. I didn't even try to retrieve it, to check if my mother had called last night, to even touch it. It was in a ghost's grasp barely hours ago — who knew what kind of after-effect it was experiencing?
"Was he there?"
I shook my head. "Thankfully not. That's not how I want to start my mornings."
We couldn't continue our conversation, because Itto's line of sight fell upon an old man who was tugging along three golden retrievers by their leashes, excitement bubbling out of his countenance. He dropped my bag on the ground as he bounced his way to smother the dogs with his love. I didn't know if it was intentional or if he had genuinely forgotten that he was holding it.
I sighed. Just another day for him, while I fought tooth and nail to stay alive.
When I reached my classroom—without a big, burly idiot by my side, for obvious reasons—I was met with yet another infuriating presence, hogging the first seat like the teacher's pet he was. His auburn hair was almost pink under the soft sunlight that mellowed its way to his seat, his green eyes focused on a random NPC I couldn't care less about.
My steps were as discreet as possible when I ambled over to my usual spot, hoping to avoid his gaze that always seemed to search for me. It sounded almost romantic without context, but it couldn't be any further from a notion regarding 'affection'. He simply wished to mess with me, to set out a challenge and decide who was the better academic monster between the two of us. I was, obviously, because I craved the validation that teachers gave me like no one else. I'd be nothing without it.
