Biology with Agatha |JB|

Still the ice princess

Now we don't wanna fall but,

We're tripping in our hearts and it's reckless and clumsy

-Stuck in the moment, Justin Bieber

Justin

My room has always been a chamber of my own troubles. No matter what house it was situated in, what state and which state it resided at the moment; there was the tiniest of pride I could keep to myself that I had a space to strip myself down to vulnerability at the end of every day. 

Without knowing prior of today's agenda, I found myself tidying up the four walled room with what little it had and trying not to mind the intense wave of deja vu that was throwing me back to the 14 year old Justin locking all his pre-teen litters inside a cabinet like closet all because of his little rich girlfriend coming over.

I picked up my old rubber-edged  game controllers scattered under my desk.

I picked up my discarded shirts that managed to pile from a week's laziness.

I threw away Ryan's attempt of composing a love letter back in 10th grade.

I  threw away take-out packaging I hid from my mom when she was too late to get home. 

I fixed the polaroid that Agatha gave me on our first date.

I fixed my lamp on my night stand.

My bedroom door suddenly opened, harshly as it ever did before and in came a bolting Agatha who looked like someone threatened to cut her hair off. 

"What happened to you?"

"Let's get started."

We talked at the same time, me straightening from collecting crumpled paper balls under my study table and Agatha clutching her school bag and placing it against my door so it doesn't close.

My lips twitched from a memory I was far too selfish to forget. 

"I-I made sketches actually like just sample ones," She stuttered with pink cheeks as she pulled out her binder. "I was thinking we should make a list of both our physical traits first then from there we'd make trials of the ones we want our uh, child- um to have." 

I watched her ramble for a moment looking so out of place like all those years ago, sitting on my beat-up office chair that Mom got me from a thrift store.

"Alright, I'll make one real quick."

"You do that. Hand me a pencil real quick."

Turning away from her to suppress the betraying ghost of smile over the fact that she never changed: demands things her way and never asks. 

A serene almost close to peacefulness settled between us for almost half an hour. Agatha still perched on my desk, her skilled and dainty fingers maneuvering against the wide canvas that she has kept since I met her.

The thick sketch pad that I never got the chance to take a peek in.

"Are you done? You've been at it for almost an hour don't over stretch your traits when you know you don't have it."