heartache | t. muichiro ✓

surface tension

「

"each battered bruise and crimson stain meant the world to her."

」

This time, you were a bit surprised when your dream brought you to a classroom.

A gentle tap on your shoulder had you looking up, a shocked gasp escaping your lips at the blurred face.

"Y/N~! Let's go back to my house after school, okay?!"

That voice was just too familiar.

And you watched it all unfold before your eyes.

From when Jiro invited you and Muichiro out to the alleyway with his friends...

... to when he pulled out the pack of cigarettes and...

No wonder you awoke in a frenzy, breathing heavily and sweating.

—

Seduction is no easy feat.

"How to get your tutor to leave you the fuck alone..." You spoke as you typed, your long nails tapping each key on the keyboard before groaning at the no results pop-up.

You flopped down onto your bed, a scowl planted on your face as your eyes wandered across your room.

Until they landed on a magazine.

You rushed to grab it like a ravenous predator, tearing into it as if you hadn't eaten in days.

How to Get Anything You Want.

The title immediately beckoned your attention as if it were some method of hypnosis. Planting your ass onto the floor within your room, you read each and every section.

Your eyes flickered to the body-length mirror in front of you, each scratch distorting the reflection.

Not like you can afford a new one.

You ran a hand through your hair, batting your eyelashes innocently as you bit your lip. Your eyes moved back to the page every so often to check if what you were doing was right.

You twirled a lock of h/c hair between your fingers whilst you practiced a harmonious laugh, each note passing your lips reminding you of a humming bird.

Your door slammed open, the handle going through the hole in your wall.

"Y/N, could you—" Your brother looked down at you, a disgusted look etched on his features at the sight of your hair flipped back and a magazine in your lap. "What the fuck? Ew."

"Go fuck yourself." You rolled your eyes, the tips of your lashes in your peripheral.

The corners of his lips turned downwards as he leaned against your battered doorframe. "I need money. I know you have some leftover."

"I really don't." You spoke, digging into your makeup bag and pulling out an old tube of mascara. You unscrewed the lid and leaned close to the mirror. "Pa used it all for the liquor store."