weak ; trixya ✗

seven

Katya sat under Trixie's locker the next day. She was mindlessly picking at her black painted finger nails when fishnet-covered long legs came into view. She smiled softly, glancing up to see who she expected, Trixie Mattel. The younger girl was raising an eyebrow at her, her head tilted slightly in an amused fashion.

"What are you doing?" Trixie asked, the small smile finally finding its way to her painted lips. Her fingers fiddled with the edge of her light blue top and Katya wanted to squeeze her.

Katya shrugged, finally deciding to stand up from the hard floor.

"I was waiting for you. like I always do," She said, leaning against the locker next to Trixie's.

Trixie hummed, moving over to swirl her combination in.

"Well, duh," She said back, slightly sarcastic, "But you were sitting on the floor this time."

"I was a little earlier than I usually am, so I sat," Katya shrugged with a soft smile, yawning softly soon after.

Trixie snorted as she grabbed her maths book from her locker, setting it into her bag.

"Tired from last night?" She teased, closing her locker and leaning against it, looking up at Katya.

Katya rolled her eyes, playfully, at Trixie.

"Just a bit," She said, smiling, which she always seems to be doing around Trixie. "A certain someone kept me up late last night."

"Oh, such a shame," Trixie giggled, crossing her arms over her chest, "Maybe you shouldn't be doing that, then."

"Yeah, maybe."