Wendy Oneshot

It's you

@revelwrittenscenes

It had been 3 hours since you had stopped calling and 2 hours since you'd stopped texting, but it didn't matter to Wendy.

It's not like she couldn't survive without you or something. In fact, she could feel her life improving by the minute, without you in it.

And it's not like you would care anyway. You had your "new friend" to spend time with. Your "pretty", new friend. Wendy was sure you were having a blast with her.

Not that she cared. No sir, she didn't.

She'd only walked away from the sight of the two of you cozied up together to give you some space. She definitely did not storm out of the café, like you had implied 4 hours ago when you had called to ask what was up with her.

She had assured you that nothing "was up" with her. She was absolutely fine and she had made sure that you knew that.

She was fine. Of course she was fine. Why wouldn't she be?

Because of that girl holding your hand?

Because you didn't pull away?

Because it wasn't her that was with you instead?

Wendy was fine. She was...she was...

With her hands tightly clutching her dark hair, she let out a cry of frustration.

Livid.

She was livid, and she wanted nothing to do with you at the moment, no matter how many times you tried to contact her.

Sighing, she plopped down on the couch, grabbing her phone from the living room table. Scrolling through your messages, she began to feel guilty.

All the messages consisted of you asking her if she was alright, if she was at home, if she had eaten yet, etc. Even though she was being irrational by giving you the cold shoulder, you still worried about her.

Just like always.

Wendy recalled her 10-year-old self wandering down the hallways of her new school. She'd been lost and had tried asking for directions from the other students, all of which had simply shrugged her off and continued on their way.

While she'd been busy studying the campus map, someone had tapped her shoulder. That'd been the first time she had met you. She remembered you having the kindest smile on your face as you'd asked her if she needed directions. You had personally walked her over to her class, not caring that you'd be late to your own.

I remember the past days

Why did they hurt so much?

In the memories that have gone and the scattered memories

When I was struggling with the unfamiliar world

Wendy had been 15 when she had accidentally spilled tomato sauce on her jeans during lunch. The stain wouldn't come out, and to Wendy's horror, attempting to clean the stain by dabbing at it had given the appearance that she'd had a 'feminine accident'.

You hadn't thought twice before slipping out of your jacket and wrapping the arms around her waist, tying them and letting it hang around her lower body, covering the embarrassing stain.

"Can't have people thinking Wendy Son is a messy eater, now can we?" You'd said with a sly smile. She'd turned away, hiding her blush. Thanks to you, nobody had noticed Wendy's ruined jeans.

The gesture hadn't meant much to you, but to her, it was the beginning of the strong, and sometimes confusing, emotions she harbored for her best friend.