you fumbled a baddie.

nobody knows how you did so. so how did you fumbled such a majestic greek goddess in less than a week? maybe you shouldn’t consider a three month ‘relationship’ just a talking stage. big mistake, knowing how much relationship matter to demitra.

the first two weeks trailed.. you didn’t get the affect of not having mia on your side. somehow, you felt relieved over the fact of not having to be on facetime most of your time at night instead of studying or whatever. you settle down to more parties, hung out with old friends often. three week arrived.. okay maybe, you missed the autumn walks, kissing in the rain moments. the whiff of her perfume or the feeling of her hair. it was whatever. you could survive— right? week four. okay, fuck it, you feel the effectiveness of her absence. damn, you missed her late night talks, her cooking, her jokes, her sarcasm. her, her, her. you missed her.

“you indeed fumble a baddie.”

your friend said during lunch as she munches on hot cheetos, her hand gliding through her tiktok feed

“shut the fuck up.” you’d murmur as you rush your fingers throughout the keyboard. the following messages starting as “mia can we talk” “please” “i really miss you” “i missed up bae” only to be returned as on seen. you threw your face to your hands, groaning dramatically.

“be romantic or shit.” your friend looked up. “yknow like boombox in the rain, flowers, a jeff buckley song.” she smirked. “bro, she lives in a fucking gate residental.” you said. “that’s on you.” she went back to her phone. “i would be on knees saying yes if my partner did that.” she teased, giving you a sly smirk. “genuinely don’t open your mouth .” you commented, side eyeing.

but all you thought, how were you going to convince demitra back?