.•° ✿ | oc oneshots

.•° ✿ | talk to me

concept; an older male student starts subtly harassing april at school, and irene isn't having any of it.

tw; mild sexual touching, strong language

note; this is before they dated, probably in 9th grade

word count; 3211 words (i write more for these than my english assessments.......)

---

the school day was how it usually was for irene, which was uneventful. like most lunchtimes, the girl was cooped up in the art department, a half-eaten pot of pasta to her left, accompanied by a plastic cup stained to the brim with oil paint-infested water. there were several brushes deposited inside the cocaution of paints, some more gunked up than others, some unused, but nonetheless, it was clear she was working on something. infront of her, there was a large canvas which displayed a multitude of bright colours; a lot of yellows, oranges, reds, warm tones in a human like form. whatever she was working on seemed quite abstract, and it was quite clear this project was starting to burden her showing by her tired expression.

in one ear, she had an earbud plugged in; if you were close enough, you could hear the faint, buzzing hum of the song she was listening to. irene looked like she was in her own little world, drowsily adding colours to the canvas, despite there being a few other art students dotted around the room, eating and working on their own projects. somehow, the room had a strong odour of paint and shitty cafeteria pasta at the same time.

despite wearing an apron, irene's uniform was far from a clean canvas. not only was it untucked and torn at some edges, yet also her being an acrimonious worker didn't help at this case, meaning there was the odd splotch of paint decorating the seams of her white shirt. thankfully, teachers never tend to catch on as she always hid this with her sweater, but the stains were still a bitch to get rid of. sat at one of the art stools, she continued with her monotonous work ethic, lighting bopping her head to the music in her ear and occasionally taking a spoonful of cold pasta.

-

"mrs ethna asked me to do this before her class, so i just wanted to get it now before i forgot."

irene perked up at the oddly familiar voice, pausing with her paintbrush in her hand for a moment in speculation.

"ohh, tha' old blonde hag in social studies?"

"she's so nice to me! i'm happy to do a few things for her, she struggles a little bit nowadays.."

she raised an eyebrow, casually removing the earbud from her ear. she new the tone of the girl, that soothing and melodic voice, but it was on the tip of her tongue. the odd conversation between her and an older sounding guy echoing outside the art block was weirdly intriguing to her, but to be fair, anything felt more interesting than the daunting task sat right infront of her face.

"suit yourself goody two shoes, but we're getting more food after this because i'm fuckin' starving."

"of course! it'll only be a minute, i just need to get something from the art room."

the sound of light foot tapping now echoed across the painted hallway, gradually getting closer to the doors of that vast art show-case room irene situated herself in. it was killing her that the muffled girls voice was so familiar, yet her coffee-induced brain just couldn't process it at the moment. soon, she shrugged it off, dripping her paintbrush in the dirty water and tapping the tip of it in more ocre-toned paint.

after a few more brush-strokes, the art doors suddenly clicked open. curious, irene slyly eyed up to see who had entered.

stood at the doorway were two slimmer figures, one slightly taller than the other in stature. the taller appeared to be a male student, one with broad shoulders and a meek, curly haircut with shaved sides and a smug smirk on his face that was almost punchable to irene. of course, with her barely getting along with male students, she showed a secret distaste as soon as she laid her eyes upon him. similiar to her, the boy had viridescent green eyes and pale skin, pretty much what you'd expect from an american guy. just from his speech, irene presumed he was rather douchey, and following the narrowing of his eyes in judgement when he entered the art room, she guessed she was correct.