╰┈➤ elijah mintz (oc) x reader
❝ gross, my pillows smell like your cologne. ❞
❝ and that's a bad thing? ❞
☄. *. ⋆ in which {name}'s college life is constantly interrupted by the antics of elijah mintz.
or,
☄. *. ⋆ in which elijah mintz gets emotiona...
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"shit, i forgot."
willow was halfway through the process of turning on her heel to sprint away down the hall, before you grabbed her arm to slow her down slightly to demand answers– because one doesn't simply leave you hanging.
"what did you forget?" you questioned, and willow stopped, propping her hands on her hips. "i have swimming practice." she said, as if that explained everything in life, all her actions, every reasoning could be boiled down to swimming.
willow was the only actually athletically competent person in your friend group (surprise surprise), being on the mayfield college swim squad and all, the only real downside of it all being that her coach, ms. yonda, was literally insane.
if she saw fit before a swimming competition, she'd sometimes turn up at the dorms one by one at 2am to chivy everyone up for an 'early morning warm up', when the time was barely even past the witching hour.
"oh, swimming, of course." you managed not to roll your eyes, and she wrinkled her nose lightly, giving your arm a squeeze.
"sorry about that, i'll walk with you to class tomorrow, alright?" she offered, and you shook your head gently. "it's fine, just kidding with you– get going before your coach decides to drown your entire squad, alright?"
willow shot you a resigned look, before grinning, "see you later."
you took a moment to watch her shove her way through the hallway filled with other freshmen (because she obviously had to run, for that extra bit of cardio), her black braids swinging behind her like a pendulum.
the thing is, you were an independent person (slay), but wandering the lecture halls alone as a freshman was pretty much suicidal– between cycling periods you'd get sloshed around between arms and torsos and oversized bags, only to get blocked by sophmores who think that it's hilarious to gatekeep classes and demand passwords, as if they're little bridge trolls.
the walls where you took your college class of choice were painted lilac with the hopes that colour psychology would be enough to make the hallways a safe space– spoiler alert, it had come to the consensus that most of the residents at the college must have been colour blind.
even if you set off from your dorm 20 minutes before the period, with the amount of elbowing and crowd surfing one had to accomplish, you'd only really ever arrive at class right on time.
"hey, watch it." obviously, the fifth person you walked into in a span of 5 minutes just had to be elijah mintz.
"i'm sorry, it's not like i can control who shoves me." you stated, before nearly getting bowled over by sam hales' whole friend group headed towards music theory, at which elijah took your arm and tugged you over to the side of the hallway, out of the streams of people wandering around, either escaping, or the opposite.
