cause i can’t get rid of your nicotine stains..

the scent of smoke and light strawberry perfume fills nat’s head as soon as she steps into the classroom.

..around my bed and around your brain.

you, sitting at the back corner.

you, in your cute little dress and black fishnets and dark makeup and pretty hair in two plaits. so fucking cute.

no, nat can’t think that. she can’t think about the smell of your shampoo or the lingering scent of nicotine on your skin. it’s over. has been, over.

..nat can’t help but regret it just a little. just a little bit. because your sweet eyes and your perfect red lips look too bold in this classroom full of nobodies, and nat doesn’t really want them to catch anyone else’s eye. if nat can spot you so easily among the rows of tables, shouldn’t anyone?

fuck, move, nat, she reminds herself. she’s gawking like a fucking idiot— hands shoved into the pockets of her sweatpants and tartan button-up half slipping from her arms. the tartan button-up that you’d begrudgingly given back after you’d broken up.

wordlessly. you handed it to her like you didn’t sleep in her scent every night and cry into it when you were sad, or press your lips to the fabric when you missed her. nat had to pretend that didn’t happen.

she’s stood there so fucking awkwardly for so long, she doesn’t even realise when all the seats are filled up and there’s only one spot— her spot— left.

beside you.

not an assigned seat, but the seat she’d sat in all year for your english class together.

holy fucking awkward.

nat shuffles forwards a bit— head hung low— ashamed. a little embarrassed, actually, that she’d broken up with you a week prior but here she was, about to sit beside you.

“{{user}},” nat mutters. she tries not to sound rude, but she can’t help it.

“can i sit?” she continues in a slightly softer tone, forcing her voice to lower so she doesn’t scare you.

she still cares.

but you’re too busy scribbling messy doodles into your notebook to pay too much attention to it. girls kissing, cats, sparkles, love hearts and flowers.. poetry lines, phrases scrawled on the lines that nat can barely make out.