𝐖𝐢𝐥𝐝 𝐑𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐬 (𝐖𝐢𝐥𝐡𝐞𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐚 𝐕𝐞𝐧𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐞)

6K 181 5
                                    


"I'm gonna be late. Thanks for the breakfast, prof!"

Rushing out of the door with the forkful of bacons the girl didn't realize the silverware until she swallowed all of its content and was already outside the complex building. Sparing a quick look down her wrist watch, sizing her time, she panicked almost having a mini heart attack. She shoved the silverware down to her back pocket and ran across the street, clutching tightly to her shoulder bag.

(y/n) was late already, regretting completely the five minutes she indulged laying comfortably in her professor's couch.

She made it eight minutes late. (y/n) breathed out heavily, putting her belongings into her designated locker and getting appropriately dressed for work. (y/n) worked as a part time waitress in a café in the morning and student during the afternoon. As much as possible she was trying to fit in her schedules to the best way she could work them out.

Being disowned by her own family didn't help the situation. She came out to them in the middle of spring break just a few days before school started again and now she temporarily lived with her professor: Miss Wilhemina Venable.

The day rolled by, (y/n) now sat in the last row with her arms folded down to her desk and her head nestled sideway to her arm. Working too much by the morning and lacking sleep during the night reviewing for examinations and making progress with her project was making her sleep deprived so wherever her body found a suitable position her eyes would seized the moment and automatically shut down.

(y/n) missed half of the discussion, Miss Venable or Miss V as what she liked to call her beautiful professor, walked slowly with the aid of her cane thumping softly to the ground. A hand reached out caressing the girl's shoulder.

If this happened to any of her students she would have flipped immediately and sent them to detention in the end of the day but knowing how much the world currently weighed for the girl she couldn't do that. She was a woman of her words, in the beginning she told she'd have no favouritism nor exception, she saw everyone fairly but lately she was having a blind eye.

Many students did notice too, the change of behaviour of their professor describing it as strange in a good way because she wasn't too uptight in some cases whatever the cause was they'd rather stick their noses to their asses than the woman's business knowing that could cause a lot of trouble for them.

In the apartment, (y/n) helped with small things around the house mainly like sweeping the floor, washing the dishes and watering her professor's little succulent plants. The woman always told her that she didn't have to but being stubborn, (y/n) didn't listen and kept on helping around.

As much as the woman wanted to admit that her life felt a little easier with having the girl around she would never dare to say it out loud because it surely would taste bitter coming off her mouth. She would sound like she was depending things on the girl and she hated that.

In the end of the day, Wilhemina came home an hour late to her usual time. She sat her bag on the couch the girl pause with her homework and helped the woman took off her coat and hang it behind the door.

"I cooked pasta for the night." (y/n) said breaking the silence and giving one last smile to the woman before returning to her workspace which was in the middle of the living room, her notebooks scattered over the coffee table and some papers on the ground, she sat with her legs folded beneath her holding a ballpoint pen and some stabilo pens on the side. On foot of the couch she noticed a neon green stabilo pen, it must have rolled out from the rest. Grabbing it, she placed it to the table not saying a word.

(y/n) looked up, smiling at the woman before focusing back to work. Wilhemina remained silent but a small grin was curving to her lips seeing the girl made it home safe. Tonight marked as the first week of having her home opened for the girl, she grew fond of her although she wasn't very vocal about the (y/n) could sense it with the small gestures the older woman do.

𝐏𝐚𝐮𝐥𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐃𝐫𝐚𝐛𝐛𝐥𝐞𝐬 𝟐.𝟎Where stories live. Discover now