informed consent | short story + one shots

two.

Hazel was pretending to be busy in the kitchen while subtly listening in to Mia’s phone call. Her roommate was pacing around the living room, one hand holding the black phone to her ear, the other mindlessly fiddling with a loose thread of her jumper that she was only making worse.

Hazel already knew Mia would feel bad about that one later on, and she’d probably assist as they attempted to sow the jumper back together. It was a soft green one and Hazel knew it was one of Mia’s favourites. Somehow it stood out how Mia always reached for it on days she felt a little under the weather, or on days where she was extra tired and sleepy.

Living with a roommate was new for the both of them, and even if they looked like polar opposites to the outside world, it had been working in their favour so far. Mia and Hazel had been living together for all of two months, and surprisingly last night hadn’t been the first time Mia had stood by the edge of Hazel’s bed, desperately trying to push her tears back before she politely asked if she could get into Hazel’s bed with her to cry her little heart out.

It had shocked Hazel the first time, Mia blatantly asking if she was allowed to show emotion and her needing Hazel’s approval for it. It never went further than this. Hazel never tried to coax anything out of Mia, she never tried to hold her or she never tried to console her. Mia didn’t need any of that, Hazel thought. Just the comforting presence of another silent person near her seemed enough.

It did give Hazel quite a clear view of what Mia’s upbringing had been like. 

She stored away some clean dishes silently as Mia hummed and nodded on the phone, her lip nervously tucked into her teeth and her hair in its usual braid, although slightly more messy from being in that hairstyle all day. Mia paced around, sighing and humming, hardly getting a word in between what her parents were talking about. Hazel wasn’t sure if it was her mum or her dad, neither of them really left room for Mia to say much.

The start of the call had been hard to hear, where Mia carefully tried to explain her slipping grades. She was still a great student, Hazel felt. Above average even, but there was just so much pressure from her parents and from Mia herself, that it was never really good enough.

What a life, Hazel thought. She felt sorry for Mia. They lived in a fun apartment, close to campus and they were two young girls leaving home for the first time. They lived close to the nightlife of their student neighbourhood, yet Mia hardly left the apartment. Hazel had known since the beginning that Mia was shy and suffered from some social anxiety, but this was making it worse.

Her friends questioned her mysterious roommate and Hazel defended Mia for not meeting them because they eventually thought she just didn’t want to meet them. Which wasn’t the case.

On the other side of the living room, Mia was on a call with her mother. She was listening to a rant about how she had to pick up her slacking grades or else they’d pull her from the apartment and she’d have to study from home so they could keep an eye on her.

Mia was desperately holding onto the small amount of freedom she had just received weeks ago and definitely was not ready to give it up yet.

“So you’ll get a tutor?” Her mother concluded. Mia sighed out, rubbing her forehead tiredly as she swallowed away the lump in her throat. She had no clue where to even find the time to get tutoring lessons, but she did need it if she wanted to keep living her life this way.

“Yes.” Mia eventually answered and her mother hummed, “Good. And you’re still doing those counselling sessions?”

“Yes.”

The thought alone made Mia’s stomach knot. She had said counselling sessions tomorrow before noon. She had three of them and she had no idea if the first would show up. She hadn’t seen or heard from Harry since he ran out of room two on Monday afternoon. It was a Wednesday evening now and Mia was downright exhausted after meeting a deadline at midnight last night, hardly having time to proofread her work for the fourth time before she had to hand it in.