𝑅𝐸𝐹𝐿𝐸𝐶𝑇𝐼𝑂𝑁𝑆 || mileven au

|| FOUR ||

CHAPTER FOUR:
making progress.

it was an agonizing tuesday afternoon, specifically from el's point of view. regularly she'd spend it in her significant spot, drowning in the coarse pages filled with romance while bringing a tea-filled mug to her rubescent lips.

verily she is spending her free hours in the preferred location, but not in a congenial way. in fact, being compelled to study with him meant listening to mike's complaints and tolerating his provoking company. that also meant that there weren't any spare hours for relaxation in reading and steamy drinks. that wasn't a very blessing way for el to lavish her time onto something so unworthy.

"i'm about to fucking die." mike groaned, burying his  face in his palms as it took him a matter of patience to not drown in slumber. her honey irises rolled as she flicked the last page of a random novel.

"resurrect then! we haven't even started writing!"el replied as she shut the book with an audible thud, causing the male besides her to flinch. she layered the book onto the stack of other ones they've been flipping through for the past two hours.

"fucking hell this is the worst idea." mike grumbled, his voice resonated as he pushed the fallen strands of hair off his face.

"technically it was yours." she added, grabbing another book from the stack and starting to flip through it for possible inspiration.

"it wasn't my idea to write a goddamn romantic plot!" he accidentally spoke too loud as multiple exasperated looks were shot at them.

"i would have worked completely fine by myself because you are such a pain in the ass!" el argued causing him to let out a deep huff.

"can you just quit complaining so that we could get done with this? in fact, why are we even flipping through each book from this mount everest eleanor?!"

"to get inspiration. maybe you should be more attentive and keep up rather than complaining about it." el stated with a rather 'duh' tone.

"this is never going to work out..." mike silently muttered, although it was audible enough for the brunette girl to hear.

"it could if you quit being such a drama queen and help me instead!" el growled, handing him a large copy with a maroon cover.

"and what am i supposed to fucking do with it??"

"list through it, or come up with the idea by yourself. anything that will make you more useful." she coldly instructed, focusing on the jane eyre text she had read long ago.

minutes have passed, yet no progress has been made by the two frustrated students.

mike found it futile with the idea of searching their plot by reading a composition written by someone else. he craved originality and a person being able to express themselves. it's not just written words with an intriguing diegesis. he believed that writing was a whole concept of one's mindset, how it expressed the context of felt emotions and cavernous images. many printed copies that were written by authors hid personality and trances. your own abstractions are able to lead to the most excessive abilities that only yourself is capable of.