Bloom: Reproductive organ of angiosperm plants especially one having showy or colorful parts.
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"Jack,
I will be coming home tomorrow morning, in case you decide to come over. I am staying over at a friends house, we have an assignment to do. Make yourself at home."
November passed by quickly, the days were like seconds to (Y/N) ever since Jack broke into her house. Her perspective on the boy changed soon after she had found out about his backstory. Not completely, but she was getting there.
The need to be careful around him didn't disappear entirely but the more they talked, (Y/N) could see that he really had no intention on killing her. Maybe he had them before, but they no longer held any meaning.
To be frank, she didn't know why he decided to stick around. Maybe he was still cautious, didn't trust her enough - but at this point she didn't really mind. His presence was comforting somehow, even if he was a murderer.
I sound like a fictional character.
(Y/N) sat on the couch, note still in her hands as she kept thinking about everything. It was weird to know that they had been in and out of contact for a month and a half now. Jack would sometimes stay for days in her apartment, so she started addressing him as her 'roomie' which confused him almost always.
He was a cold guy, never understanding jokes and getting defensive when she would try to pat him on the back. He did ease up a little after a certain time however, lowering his guard and relaxing – the same thing happening with (Y/N) as well.
It was a well known fact to the girl that she was basically a friend with a killer. At the start, she only wanted to stay alive, now? Now she just didn't care.
Putting the note on the table, she got up and headed to Lauren's place. It was better to arrive before dark, even if she knew she's safe from the "unknown" murderer.
The walk there was filled with the sound of her boots hitting the fluffy snow, making her stomp at the same place sometimes for fun.
Lauren's neighborhood was one of the prettiest ones she had ever seen. All of the houses had pretty decorations all over, making her smile in awe.
As she entered the small house, she could feel the hot air hitting her frosted face, prompting her to scrunch her nose at the impact. The worst thing about winter was definitely entering a hot place after being out in the cold for a while.
"There you are, welcome! Andrew's already upstairs." Lauren greeted her with a grin which made (Y/N) return the gesture and nod.
"Sorry I'm late, I got distracted by the decorations outside."
"They are so pretty, right? I can't help but stare at them every time I go outside. God I can't believe it's almost the end of the year, I feel like we're still in October."
Lauren continued to make some small talk as they walked upstairs.
"Yeah, if the snow didn't fall already, I would probably believe that it's just a normal October weekend. For the first time in forever time's flying like crazy." (Y/N) answered.
Entering Lauren's room she noticed Andrew sprawled on the floor, making her laugh.
"What's funny? Don't laugh at me." The boy spoke, squinting his eyes at the two girls above him.
"My bad, but you are taking up almost all the space on the floor. Was it really necessary to lay in a starfish position?"
"It's not my fault Lauren's carpet is so soft. Besides, you have two chairs and a bed. I am not moving from here anytime soon."
(Y/N) only laughed harder. She didn't notice her friends looking at her with the softest smiles, happy to see her like that. (Y/N) knew how worried they have been for her by the end of October and sometime during November. She did try her best to hide that from them, but they aren't stupid.
The trio got comfortable and began to do their assignment, occasionally stopping for snacks and to chat. Their studying sessions were always somewhat special to (Y/N), they never felt pressured and their pace was pretty much the same when studying, which made it easy for everyone.
"Why did we all decide to take up French for Modern Language Core?" Andrew questioned, already tired of the work.
"French is a pretty language, why not?" Lauren retorted, "You could've taken another language, but then you wouldn't meet the two of us, so shush."
"French isn't that hard if you pay enough attention, though." (Y/N) added.
"Speak for yourself smartass, why do we have to read "Bonjour Tristesse" when we barely know how to speak French."
"It's literally translated in English dumbass. We just have to do an analysis in French."
(Y/N) watched as her friends bickered, slowly getting lost in thought.
I wonder if Jack came to the apartment.
Looking down at her notes, she couldn't help but think about the boy again. They practically lived together most of the time, but she knew so little about him.
Where did he live when he wasn't sleeping on her couch? There hasn't been almost any murders recently, how did he eat? How long could he go without food?
She was grateful that he didn't eat in front of her at least – but was still confused about many things when it came to his diet.
Turning her thoughts away from his eating habits, she remembered how many times she had observed his appearance. The messy chestnut colored hair that had strands resting on his face, framing it perfectly.
The clothes she had bought him back then perfectly suited his lean figure. (Y/N) would never admit it, but she preferred seeing him in shirts rather than hoodies. Not covering his skin, leaving his arms and neck bare.
She liked to tease the killer by pinching him or gently slapping him over the shoulder, all as an excuse to feel his soft skin. She didn't know why, but thinking about it made her cheeks heat up.
"You good?" No, I find an eldritch serial killer attractive.
"Yeah, just thinking." She could tell that her friends didn't believe her by the looks on their faces. Lauren stared at the girl with her eyebrows raised while Andrew only squinted his eyes, shooting her a suspicious look.
"Okay...We've asked you about your opinion on Cécile." Lauren spoke, pointing at the girl's notes.
"Oh uh, I didn't write much for her. Only that she's wealthy and usually very careless."
"Can we just write that rich people have no personality and leave it at that?" Andrew spoke while scribbling the corners of his notebook.
"No." Lauren responded with a sigh.
They continued writing their analysis late into the night until they eventually passed out from work. However, even if she was really tired, (Y/N) still found the time to think about Jack and their time spent together.
She somehow trusted him when he said he had no intentions of following her as long as she wasn't suspicious. It felt weird, trusting someone who could easily deceive you, but she tried not to think about it.
Even if Jack had followed her, he knew better than to underestimate her. She would've figured it out, and Jack probably had nothing to gain out of it – he respected her need to protect her friends.
It left (Y/N) with a weird feeling blooming inside of her, but she would worry about it later.
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Hi, hi! Firstly, forgive me for my awful knowledge about English majors, but I actually have no idea what they do lmao??? They must read a lot right?? I did try and look into it a little but all of the websites looked like hell, so this will do bc I probably won't be mentioning any classes and all that again,,,
I hope you enjoy, and remember to take care of yourselves! <3