Misty Mourning

Chapter 1.5: Mirian

I'm sitting at my desk, trying to study for tomorrow's test. Which, honestly, who holds tests on Mondays?

"Do you think I'd look good with green hair?" My friend, Quill, says from behind me. I turn to look at them sprawled out on my bed, holding a lock of hair in front of their face.

"Maybe," I suggest, "But I think a maroon would suit you better."

"Hm, I'll think about it."

Quill comes to visit every now and then, but since they live 3 towns over, they usually end up staying the night.

I look back towards my desk, and through the window behind it notice the garden my apartment building overlooks. There are 3 birds perched on the roof. One spins around and attacks the one next to it, making the other fly away. I chuckle and look back at my book, I know all too well the cruelness nature can bring.

"Hey, why don't we watch a movie or something? You've been working for hours." Quill suggests, their tone is smooth but vibrant.

I sigh, "We've been over this. I have a huge exam tomorrow, I can't afford to mess around."

"You're no fun," they pout.

We sit in a comfortable silence for another while, until the sound of screams echoes through the streets. I yank my head up from the textbook and look out the window. The source of the screams isn't in sight, thankfully. Though I do notice mist beginning to flood the streets. Likely what caused that horrid shriek. I sit back down and rest my hand on my cheek, going back to the book.

"You may want to lay down soon," I tell Quill, "It's getting pretty late."

"You're not my mom," they laugh. I chuckle in response.

Before I know it, I groggily open my eyes, finding I'd fallen asleep studying. I glance around, Quill is nowhere to be found. On my bed, however, is a note.

"Hey loser, I made breakfast. If I'm not downstairs, I'll see you at school."

I give a weak laugh, and begin to make my way down the stairs. Quill is sitting on the sofa, eating a muffin I'd bought the previous week.

"Finally awake?" They say with a mischievous grin. I grunt. "I made Oatmeal, you really need to go shopping."

"I went last week," I say, moving to sit next to them. They laugh. "What time is it?"

"1:15, don't worry, you have time."

"Mh," I grunt, stretching my arms. "Well then, we should probably get ready. That exam won't take itself."

"Yeah," Quill chuckles, "You fell asleep studying last night."

"I'm aware," I say, embarrassed. With that, I begin to walk back up the stairs and to my bedroom. My wardrobe for the day consists of a cropped beige hoodie, ripped low-rise jeans, and worn down converse.

I'm collecting the things from my desk whenever Quill walks in, they're dressed in a multicolored striped shirt and brown overalls, matched with white platforms.

I gasp playfully, "You're putting an effort into appearance? What may be the occasion?"

"Ha-ha, very funny." They joke in return, "but if you must know, I'm hoping to have a date after classes."

"Hoping?"

"I haven't actually worked up the courage to ask yet."

I laugh, "You're the most confident person I know, and you can't ask someone on a date?"

"I know, pathetic," They respond, their sarcastic tone emphasized.

I finish grabbing my things and stuffing them into my bag around 1:32. Classes start in 13 minutes, so if we were to leave now we'd have 2 minutes to spare.

I grab Quill and usher them out the door, as they stagger behind me trying to match my hasty pace.

"What's the rush?" They ask, panting.

"I don't want to be late, that's the rush."

"Oh come on," they say, falling behind, "We have plenty of time."

I quicken my pace, ignoring–and quite possibly enjoying–the protests that ensue.

We reach the school gate with 4 minutes to spare. As soon as I enter, I notice a crowd surrounding two students. One is pinned to the ground while the other is ruthlessly hitting them.

I rush over, "Hey!" I yell, with no reaction, "HEY!" I say much louder, which not only gains a reaction, the attacker pauses. I push my way through the crowd to where the two students are, "Just what are you doing?" I cross my arms.

The attacker starts to laugh, in a way I assume he finds menacing, "Who are you?" He says.

"Answer my question, pretty boy." There are scattered laughs throughout the crowd. The boy in question becomes increasingly flustered, and stands up.

"If you must know, she–"

"He," The student on the ground corrects in a broken voice.

"I know what I said, Melanie,"

With that, I slap the boy. By now, Quill begins to rush over.

"Mirian, why did you do that?" They say frantically. Before I can answer, the bell rings and everyone scatters off to their classes, including Quill and the attacker. "We'll talk later!" They yell as they walk off.

I turn to grab my bag, which was thrown to the ground in the commotion, and follow.

I show up 3 minutes late to class, and am given a detention after school. I go to sit at my desk, and notice the classroom has more empty seats than usual, but brush it off as just students skipping class.

The hours pass as break approaches. The only time during school I get to speak to Quill. But whenever it arrives, they're nowhere to be seen. 

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Author here! Thanks for reading!