Mirjam was walking down the corridor when she saw him, Marcel. He was in the teachers lounge, sitting there with barbecue sauce on his tiddies. She liked that about him, he smelled like jalapeños and mustard and it always made her mouth water.
She walked up to him nervously. There was something she needed to tell him, something she wished that wasn't true. She was sweating. Her secret was sizzling on her tongue and she couldn't contain it anymore.
They hooked up a month ago and after doing "it" a few times they gradually stopped talking and the explicit feelings faded to an awkward tension between the two. At school, when their eyes accidentally met, they just simply gave each other a nod with a weird smile. Words were overrated anyways.
'Hey,' she said softly, avoiding Marcel's dazzling eyes. 'Hello,' he replied. Mirjam looked down at her fidgeting fingers,"God, I wish I had my cool glow in the dark fidget spinner with me today," she had been thinking by herself until his low, raspy voice interrupted her thoughts.
'Is there something you wanted to tell me?' She slowly lifted up her face, locking her eyes with his. Marcel furrowed his eyebrows, they were so thicc and wholesome. 'I'm pregnant,' she mumbled. 'Gregnant?' he asked.
Mirjam cleared her throat,'I'm pregnant, with your baby,' she said a little louder but still whispering, she didn't want anyone else to know. She closed her eyes, too scared for his response.
Marcel's facial expression changed to a more discordant one. She opened one of her eyes to peek at him. He clenched his jaw and his eyes turned black. she started feeling uneasy. Her palms were sweaty, knees weak, arms were heavy. There was vomit on her sweater already, mom's spaghetti. It was silent, he had been thinking for a while after he finally opened his mouth.
'You're joking, right?' Marcel spoke. Mirjam frowned, 'Why would I joke about that?'
Marcel sighed,'I thought that you were on birth control?'
'It's 99% efficient, I guess that this is the 1%...' Mirjam said bleakly. He face palmed himself and muttered something inaudible. 'I don't want it, you have to get rid of it,' he whispered in response. It was a rather hateful sounding whisper, like he was yelling softly.
Mirjam felt aggrieved. She clenched her fists and looked away. She had been vomiting and low-key dying for the last month and now he thinks that she should abort it? That pro-choice cunt.
'I did everything for you, I had been letting you smash without a condom for the past months even though I didn't want to! Your ugly ass meaty chode probably gave me chlamydia and gonorrhea too!' She was on fire, she was litter than the 9/11 bombing.
Marcel looked around him. 'Please tone it down, people are looking.'
She took a deep breath, closing her eyes, and straightened her clothes. 'I'm not going to kill this baby,' she told him.
'Well, I'm not going to be there for that mistake, I have a wife at home and I even have grandchildren. You and I never were supposed to be together, you and I, this equation, has no solution,' he protested.
'You and I both know that one plus one equals two,' Mirjam corrected.
'But you will never be the one for me.' he confessed,'Don't forget that I still have a family at home.'
Mirjam was flabbergasted. She gave her all to him and now she heard that the man she fell in love with, doesn't care about her.
'So I basically just let you smash like a fuckboy? Oh god, how could I have been so stupid?' she hid her face in her hands.
'Don't you think it was hard for me too?' he asked. Mirjam looked up at his face. She was boiling inside and she wanted to punch someone.
'Hard?! I had to slap your head when we were having sex because you don't have any hair to pull! Do you understand how weird and uncomfortable that was? And your disgusting foot fetish didn't exactly make it any better. The fact that you wanted to eat chicken strips while having anal was also unpleasant, fuck your chicken strips!'
Marcel frowned, the comment about the chicken strips really got to him. 'If you will excuse me, I feel really hurt and I would like to go home and cry now.' He grabbed his jacket and his pink mittens from the coat rack.
'We'll text, I'm too blue to continue our talk,' Marcel sniffled.
He put on his mittens and took off, leaving the furious Mirjam behind.
