ataraxia, lorenzo berkshire

"twenty seven"

time was of the essence, as after me and lorenzo's rather intimate 'talk', we'd found ourselves reunited at the dinner table, except there were hundreds of witnesses just incase he decided to threaten me with one of my own possessions again.

xander was sat beside me, as i sipped the water out of my glass slowly, i saw him lean closer to my side, as if he was discreetly trying to communicate with me to avoid attracting the others' unnecessary attention.

"excuse me for asking, but how did the talk with lorenzo go? what was it about?,"

i gulped.

i cautiously placed my glass back down upon the table, my eyes instantly travelling over to where lorenzo was sat opposite me, except a place down on my left.

he was talking to saskia, licking his lips as he did so, making it painfully obvious that he was craving his usual delicacy.

sex.

i genuinely believe that these men can't last more than a day without fucking someone, something.

"well, it was certainly unexpected." i replied, my fingers still wrapped around the body of the glass, careful not to grasp it too aggressively and potentially shatter it within my grasp as i began to reminisce the events that took place only a few hours ago.

although i was astoundingly angry - i can't lie, it was attractive.

the way he had ultimate control over me in that moment, the way he carelessly held the hairpin against my neck, threatening to harm me as i stood defenceless.

however, it was also extremely fucked up, and i hate myself for even thinking it was remotely attractive in the first place.

and this is where we move onwards.

"oh? interesting." xander shortly replied, taking a sip from the glass himself.

i nodded, sighing.

my appetite simply wasn't big enough for me to want to stay at the table, mere metres away from lorenzo as if our interaction just didn't happen.

so i left.

i sent magnora and xander a faint 'i'll see you later.' before i stood up and left, cautiously making sure my uniform skirt wasn't deformed in an embarrassing manner as i walked through the rows of conversing teenagers.

-

"pans, what's the answer to question five?," i whined, my hands sewn into my scalp in frustration as i fiercely skimmed though the worn pages of my potions textbook in annoyance.

pansy had a cigarette dangling out of the corner of their mouth as they scribbled onto multiple sheets of parchment, indulged in achieving a potions essay suitable to fit snape's particular, narrow criteria.

"it's frogspawn and a quarter of an ounce of siren tears - didn't i tell you this?," they sighed, looking up from their work to engage with me, concern written upon their face i quite literally was going to take my final exams in merely a few months, and i didn't seem to manage to recall the basics of regular potion combinations.

"i'm sorry, i've been..," i hesitated, scouring my internal vocabulary for a suitable word to fit exactly how i had been feeling since the hundredth 'lorenzo' incident - except this time, it began to eat at me.

and i loathed him for it.

"...distracted, recently. i haven't been feeling great." i slowly admitted, noticing i'd stopped attempting to answer the questions splayed across me and began to pick at my nails instead - the return of a common childhood habit that resurfaced whenever i was nervous.