How To Dissect A Witch

i. people loves . . .

Two days ago seems too far away now. You wholeheartedly believed happy endings is found in perserverance, not days or weeks or months or years away. Your desperation leads you to wish for someone, anyone, to come.

.

Perhaps one of the reason you couldn't see Morie as something more than just a friend was because of Sariel Ruysch.

Sariel is an enigmatic boy, ash blond from root to tip; well-known as a high-achiever, a history geek, and that one guy with a strange fixation over the "art of taxidermy." A weirdo, as one might say. The only thing that prevents him from being constantly bullied was his social status and annoyingly unfair beauty privileges.

And for some reason, you like him. Really, really like him. You don't know if it was those cute smiles, or his smarts, or those captivating sky blue irises. You're a sucker for looks, and maybe you did hate it, but you're far too infatuated to care about the wildest sides of his interests. You'd love hearing him ramble about elbalmy all day.

However, your nerves only ever allows you to look or talk to Sariel for only a few seconds before your system overheats. Due to this, you're merely a close acquaintance with the same Chemistry classes. Though Sariel certainly appreciates you for being able to stomach his conversation tactics. 

It was still strange how people was yet to catch up to your little crush. Maybe they're too fixated with you and Morie. 

Oh, speaking of Morie . . . 

"Ughh, not again." He groans immediately once your gaze flitted to Sariel's arrival, surrounded by two of his close friends. Happily laughing away. 

They're talking about the health hazards of necrophilia.

You mockingly mimic him, "Ughh, not again. Why do you hate him so much?"

Your last and shared class was dismissed early, and you're both heading out of the campus. Only a few students littered around and about. "Hate is a strong word," Morie says, "maybe annoyed, 'cuz you never function properly whenever he's around. Like right now. Hey."

A snap of his fingers brings you back to reality. "Oh! Yeah! Well, why not?" You lower your voice. "Can't you see how cute that smile is?"

"You know I'm not into people who thinks freeze-drying their pet is an art of preservation or whatever."

You sigh dreamily. "He can preserve me all he want and I won't complain . . ."

"What?"

"Whoa careful there!" you call out to Mina, who's struggling with carrying a tall pile of books but still enthusiastically waved in return. Then you turn back to see Sariel staring at you—

And he's smiling oh God he's smiling at you. With as much as your nervous muscles could muster, you melt into a giddy smile and wish you didn't look too much like a badger who died giving birth to a fridge. 

Before you could malfunction, you turn away. "W—What a very productive day! Just kept getting better and better!" Then, you lean to Morie and murmur, "Are my eyebags really that noticeable?" 

He rolls his eyes. "Yeah, but people loves you. They wouldn't care—"

"Sariel might care!"

"Might."

You pout in defiance. Finally, Morie concedes with a sigh. "Fine, fine. You've got frizz on your hair."

With your convenient abilities, the brush floats out from your bag and moves on its own for you. "This okay?"