Angel Eyed (DISCONTINUED UNTIL FURTHER NOTICE)

twelve

|just a reminder that Cassandra has fringes/bangs in case you haven't realized. But there are very few reference photos of Liza Soberano with fringes so bare with my lack of resources ♡ |

"Angel, I'm home!" I yelled, holding onto the strap of my backpack for dear life as I kicked my shoes off onto the side of the door. The living room couch was clean and empty, the smell of sweet bread lingering through the atmosphere which made my stomach growl in hunger. I didn't eat the food Eric made for me at lunch after all, and I was ravenous. I was thinking about eating for the rest of my periods.

Bill entered behind me, closing the door before following along as I walked into the apartment. He did come home with me just like what we loosely talked about in the lunchroom, and It had felt like a lifetime ago since the last time. It felt good. Too good in fact, I was obligating myself to think of the thousand ways all of it could go wrong, and I could start from the smallest aspects like the butterfly effect, nonetheless I just didn't. It would kill the mood, and I didn't want to do that.

I walked into the hallway towards the kitchen, Bill's figure still behind me, his bag hanging over his shoulder like mine. I looked over my shoulder, finding him just standing there, his eyes bright from under the white lights. "You go ahead, I'll just check on Angel." I instructed softly. He nodded and turned away from me, proceeding to the direction of my room. I resumed to the kitchen, and as usual Angel was there, sitting in front of the long wooden dining table in the middle of the room, mentally occupied by the laptop resting close to the edge of the table. The light from the screen radiated onto her face, her eyes sternly staring at the monitor like she was ready to devour it any hour. The sink was empty, and the counter was traceless of any stains.

Angel had always been a workaholic, sometimes I'd enter the kitchen in the middle of the night to grab a glass of water or food if I get hungry in the middle of three a.m and she'd be in he laptop, talking to professors and her patients. I've once questioned her if she ever got tired, but she just told me it was better than grieving still about her failed relationships. She said working her ass off distracted her from misery, so I just didn't argue. I couldn't imagine what kind of pain she went through, and it wasn't like I had anything to say to her. I haven't even been in a relationship myself.

Her eyes then looked up at me, the sincerity in her face being replaced by tranquility as soon as she realized my presence by the doorframe. "Oh hey," she greeted with a sigh, closing her laptop and moving it to the side. "I was just checking my emails, my patients are driving me to insanity.-- what's up?"

I padded over to the fridge and opened it, taking whatever caught my attention first which was a plate of left over lasagna and a banana. Thankfully Angel was industrious when it comes to groceries so the fridge was always full of food. I would have been dead because laziness and starvation by now if I lived by myself. "Nothing much." I replied flatly, placing the food down by the counter. "Bill is with me."

"Have you guys eaten?" She rubbed the languidity off her eyes.

"He has."

"Where is he?"

"In my room."

"What are you guys working on? Lemme' guess, Calculous again?"

"No, thank god." I sighed, grabbing a spoon from the small cupboard placed on top of the counter next to the fridge. "We're writing essays now in English."

"Ah, no worries, you'll ruin that essay, you're a genius!"

"I wish." I mumbled, slicing a piece of pasta from the plate and shoving it directly into my mouth, the chicken and the tomato sauce exploding flavors onto my tongue and I could barely speak. "Where did all the bacon go?"