megan wouldn’t say she enjoys rehearsal. she prefers to focus on the good things that accompany it. like her bandmates—and all the concerts and performances.

she can’t say the same for her fellow members, though.

it seems as if recently the five of them drive home with tension and irritation filling the car to the brim.

manon’s staring dead at the road infront of her whilst she grips the wheel, sophia next to her in the passenger, leaning against her fist. lara in the backseat on the left of megan, glaring out the window, and daniela on the right, scrolling on her phone.

in these situations, manon would pull the car into the driveway, unlocking the doors before all of the girls pour out without a word spoken.

when they make it inside the house, it’s a different story.

there’s still tension, yes, but a less complicated—frustrated one. an ‘i need someway to decompress right now’ tension.

as soon as the front door is shut and locked, it’s whoever can grab megan’s hand and pull her upstairs the quickest.

in this case, it’s lara and manon.

“fuck..” daniela whined, watching as lara dragged megan out the foyer, manon following in their path. “selfish!” sophia called out whilst the two were still in earshot.

it’s looking like sophia and daniela would just have to wait.

neither manon or lara said a word while guiding megan to their bedroom—and they were yet to even when they made it inside.

megan knew the drill. she’d lay down, wait for instructions, and do what she’s told.

she’s used to this. she’s okay with this. she likes this.

megan watches as manon closes the bedroom door, spitting her gum out into the small, black trash can next to it.

megan wouldn’t speak or move until she was told to. she was very aware of that.

“on the bed.” manon grumbles, crossing her arms and standing at the foot of said bed.

megan swallows, crawling onto the mattress and laying back against the headboard. lara strides over to her nightstand, opening the top drawer and retrieving two collars—one orange, the other red.

the orange collar states in italics; ’manon’

whilst the red one says in cursive; ‘lara’

“yours or mine?” lara glances over at manon, holding both up by both her index fingers. “mine.” manon replied, nodding towards the orange collar.

megan watches the exchange, lara tossing manon the collar before putting the discarded one back away.

“on.” manon orders. megan bows her head, allowing manon to buckle the collar on.

they really had a shitty day, huh?

usually megan would’ve had a kiss or two by now, but no. she’s just sitting and taking orders. “take the hoodie off.” manon crosses her arms.