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College!OT3 fic for Coffee-tan who is the best ilu smooch smooch

 

Theme: Exposure 

 

If it wasn't one thing, it was another.

 

Which was to say, if it wasn't various squad members snickering behind her back about being a huge slut, it was her mother shouting at her for . . . surprise, surprise, being a huge slut. She wasn't really. Just because she was in a sort-of-open relationship two guys she lived with didn't mean she wanted to steal people's boyfriends or be a prostitute. Why couldn't anyone understand that?

 

It was worse that she was the only one who really acted like she was in a damn relationship, and had the judgmental parents who only wanted the best for her, if the best was some rich Poli major who's ancestors sailed over on the fucking Mayflower.

 

Aisha sighs, slams her door shut as she "discusses" this with her mother yet again. It swings back open, but she hardly notices.

 

"Why do you keep harping on me about this? Fran's like, crazy good at movie-making and Aisha knows he'll get big! Bel is going to be a surgeon, so it's not like I'm just picking people up off the street!"

 

Believing in people kind of hurt, sometimes. But she was right, she knew it.

 

"College is the best time to find a husband, and you're wasting time. Do you honestly think this can last, the three of you? I'm not trying to hurt you, you just need to be more realistic."

 

She'd done the research. That what they were in was basically a triad and it was hard to maintain if no one was willing to work for it. With the three of them being apathetic to everything, lazy and egotistical, and proud and stubborn, the odds were against them but it was okay. Odds didn't count for how good it felt waking up between them, blond and green and white hair spilled over pillows. It didn't bother her that she did a lot for them, because she always got a lot back even if no one saw it but her.

 

"Yes. I really do mom, why can't you just drop this? I'm making A's, I'm on the fuckin-"

 

"You're on the what?"

 

No cursing over the phone, right.

 

"I'm on the f . . . dean's list, I work hard! Really hard!"

 

She flops back on her bed, tears brimming in her eyes. Normally she didn't cry about stuff like that, but her parents's opinion meant so much to her deep down. It had been bad enough to disappoint them when she got kicked out military school, but this was even worse somehow. 

 

"Do you have any idea what would happen if this got out to the rest of our family? Do you really think they'd understand this dalliance, Aisha?"

 

Curling up, she stares at the phone, wondering when she got to be so damn pathetic.

 

"I love them, okay? I'm in love, and it's everything everyone warned me it would be."

 

How could she not love her arrogant prince who was both a total idiot and a genius on par with anyone she'd ever imagined, and her snarky nightmare obsessed frog? How could she want to choose, or want anyone else?

 

"You don't know anything about love, chi-"

 

"I love them but they don't . . . they wouldn't get it, they can't know! So you don't have to worry about that, mother. Have a nice day."

 

Aisha tosses the cell phone at the door, aiming for the satisfaction of hearing the damn thing shatter, only to see a grinning blond at the doorway, holding her phone. And she's fucked, she is SO VERY fucked, because with her luck Bel heard everything and this was going to end up a disaster. Maybe her mom is right. Maybe the world is right and she's the wrong one, after all.

 

He's laughing, the crazy kind where she can tell his bones are shaking. Then he's moving, pinning her down, whispering things she can't possibly understand. She's never felt so naked, never been so scared of him.