🌹Ezzy🌹
=
~you're so pretty when you're mad~
=
"This is bull," Jimin mutters under his breath as he looks at his blank sheet of notebook paper. "What kind of algebra teacher assigns three math pages of textbook math for us to do all in one night! Does this dude not realize tomorrow is the last day of school? Give me a break!" Jimin launches his mechanical pencil across his room in stressed frustration, the object colliding with his dark blue walls and the led spilling out of it. He rests his head in his palms and sighs loudly. I just reach over to his side of his bed and pat his back reassuringly.
"Need some help, buddy?"
Jimin shifts his head upward and gives me a frustrated glare. "I can't keep having you help me on every assignment. I have to pull through and do this one myself." He reaches his hand up and ruffles his mess of pale yellow hair.
"Besides," he continues. "I don't need help. I need a fucking miracle."
"Just scribble down answers and hand it in. Just take the bad marks. It can't affect your grade that badly."
"Ez, I have a C. A solid C." I can tell by his tone that he's extremely stressed. It makes me feel uncomfortable seeing him when he is in a mood. "If this assignment flops, I don't get a passing grade in this class and do not receive my credits. The year will have been for nothing."
"Are you sure you don't want my hel-" I start to reach for the notebook and Jimin yanks it away in one swift motion. I look at him in the face and suddenly my arms start to itch. I take a deep breath as I slowly scoot off his bed and stand up, sliding on my boots and grabbing my bookbag.
Jimin looks up from the textbook. I see his countenance turn to a regretful one. He reaches his hand out and grabs my purple sweater. I bite my lower lip and gulp.
"I'm...," he mutters. "I'm sorry, Firefly. I'm just super stressed and really want to prove to myself I can do this." His apology is sincere, but I know that he needs his space to do his work.
"I have to go home early anyway," I give him a small smile to reassure that I'm not mad at him. "I have a good amount of... uh... chores I haven't caught up on." I lie to him and watch him sulk into his mattress. I can tell he knows that I'm lying, but he just nods along as I hurl my bag over my shoulder. A piece of my brown messy bun falls down in front of my green eyes as I turn my back and start to exit. "I'll see you tomorrow, Chim." He doesn't say anything as I leave his room.
I walk down the stairs and quietly say quick hellos to Jimin's mom and dad before I walk out the front door and go next door, leaving the home of an apple pie scent to the house of an alcoholic odor. I try to put my key in and turn the knob quietly, hoping I can sneak upstairs without him hearing me.
Unfortunately, there's a good reason why I'm always at Jimin's house until late at night. I always come home when I'm sure my dad has passed out from drinking too much. By now, he should already be on his third bottle.
"Ezzzzzzz!" I hear my father's intoxicated slur come from the kitchen. My brain goes immediately into panic mode as I try to think about what to do. I decide on taking a run for it and running to the stairs, but there's a chance he may meet me there.
I sprint through the house at the quickest speed I can muster, but just as I'm about to lift my leg up onto the first step, I'm pulled back to the main level by the collar of my sweater. I fall back onto the ground, my head crashing onto the hard wooden floor. I keep my pained screams muted.
"So early, Ezzy," my dad's speech is slow and barely understandable. "Did you make... you make dinner?" I stay on the floor, trying to calm myself down but not daring to stand right now. He towers over my frame with a stern glance.
"Answer me, Ezzy..." He raises his voice at a high pitch, but his words sound so jumbled that it takes me a moment to process them.
"I-it's not even f-five yet," I stutter as I tell him; he rolls his eyes and kneels down on the ground. I press my frame even tighter against the wall as his head reaches the same height as my own.
"As useless as your mother was. Can't even cook a damn meal! That's what you females were made to do!" he drunkenly chuckles and yells, his words again sounding like a foreign phrase by how slurred they are. He's so close to me that I can smell the beer on his breath. I slowly try to move my body away with small movements for my own safety, but he sees my body shift by barely an inch. When his eyes lock with my own in that moment, I know that I've lost.
I feel his fist hit my ribcage as I curl into a tight ball, screaming out in horrible agony.
×××
🌹🌹🌹
A/N: good? bad? average?
