The Ocean ━ 𝐁𝐍𝐇𝐀 (being rewritten)

4.

❛  Meat-eating orchids forgive no one just yet

Cut myself on angel hair and baby's breath

Broken hymen of Your Highness, I'm left black

Throw down your umbilical noose so I can climb right back

Hey

Wait

I got a new complaint

Forever in debt to your priceless advice ❜

— Nirvana, Heart-Shaped Box

It was mild weather. Not too cold, not too hot, not too humid, thankfully - decent enough for a Monday, at the very least. It was a fairly quiet day, or as quiet as it could have been, as Mic Sensei had been inundated with general hero work and apparently having to be present for a criminal's trial.. and not like at his actual job.. for some fucking reason. Which apparently warranted the prestigious UA high to just bring in a regular substitute teacher? What? Hannah wondered, teeth stabbing into her lower lip. 

Hannah Jade sat quietly in her classroom, tucked away neatly into her seat. Hazel eyes gazed out into space, or more specifically, the tiniest dot of printer ink staining the pristine lines of her paper. The sub, a frankly miserable looking middle aged man who went by the name of Cobain Sensei, though he held absolutely no resemblance in appearance or behaviour to Kurt Cobain and smelt strangely of onions and cat food. He unfortunately did not recognise any of the Nirvana references thrown at him by herself and a few others.

He'd just handed out the worksheets and told them to go for it, so Hannah had the wise thought to quietly slip in a headphone and hide it beneath the waves of her hair. She executed it with the subtle precision of a master. 

The quiet kid with purple hair had noticed the motion and there was a slight quirk of his lips as he saw. Hannah forced a weak grin and discreetly placed her pointer finger to her lips in the universal symbol for shush. He shook his head in what she could only hope was good naturedly. The girl dipped her head back and returned her focus to the paper.

It was blank. It had been blank for the past half hour, and it would very likely remain blank for the next half-hour too, until the official class would end and they'd change subjects. Thank whatever god it was that they only gave them ridiculously easy shit to do.

Brilliant sunlight bore through onto the classroom, through the glass and superheating the linoleum and turning all the desks the light touched into an almost blinding nightmare. Its warm glow felt almost soothing as its heat resonated in her bones.  Her hand sat empty, as though holding a ghost pen. When needed, she'd move the limb in a motion that resembled writing.