Learning to be Sister's [discontinued]

Azeala

a/n: hey guys! So for those of you who don't know us already, our name's are Cass & Rhea. We're just two girls who have a passion for writing. Our styles are different but in the end we think they fit pretty well together.

This is our first collab story and we hope that you enjoy it. :)

Also, if you want, you can follow us on our main accounts

afterwords_ // Cass

MiraclesExist // Rhea

and maybe give our individual stuff a go, that'd be great! Anyways, we hope you enjoy this first installment of LTBS!

Rhea will be writing for Azeala and I, Cass, will be writing for Anastasia.

Warning, this is the first draft of Learning to be Sister's. Chapter's are going to be short and unedited because we're both just lazy to do serious editing. Also, there will be strong language because we both have potty mouths, so if cursing bothers you then do not continue. You have been warned!

Happy Readings!

-Cass & Rhea. ♥

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one.

Azeala Acero wanted to wrap her arms around her boyfriends throat and promptly begin to strangle him and only sheer will power was preventing her from doing so.

"What the fuck is your problem, Azeala?"

"You're my problem." She snapped back, finding the first thing she could get her hands on and hurdling it towards him, a small vase.

Luckily, she never was one to have good aim, so it crashed against the wall about four feet away from him, the glass shards ricocheting of the wall.

"You crazy bitch!" Ford snarled and Azeala felt like yanking her hair out in anger.

"You make me fucking crazy. All I want is one day to spend with you and all you want to do is party. "

"All you want to do is stay at home!"

"That's a lie! I go with you to parties all the damn time, I can't this time because I'm sore from dance practice, is it that hard to turn down one night of partying and be a normal fucking couple that does normal fucking things? All we do is party."

"Whatever, I'm done. I'm going, whether you're coming or not." Then he turned and left Azeala standing there, in the middle of the room with angry tears rolling down the her cheeks, to go to a damn party.

"I hate you, Ford. I hate you." She muttered to herself. The anger slowly draining from her, she started to feel the pain set in her muscles and cursed. She knew she had to pick the remnants of evidence of her anger on the floor, so she quickly found the bright pink dust pan and small sweeper and picked it up, throwing it quickly in the metal bin she had next to her desk.

She ran a hand through her honey blonde hair in frustration, wincing as her muscles pulled painfully.

"I'm going to an ice cold bath, I'm going to enjoy it, and I'm not going to think about him." Azeala muttered to herself, heading towards the shower. The problem is, she did think of him — the whole night and she was pretty sure that not once did he think of her.