Five Twenty-Eight

*9.

!!tw : the following chapter contains themes of suicide and sexual (consensual/non-violent) content. please proceed at your own risk!!

Elisa wrapped her ankles around, squeezing her legs together while one foot tapped, staring down at the plate of food in front of her in deep thought.

The air was getting colder, and stale. Her food was already cold, making it even more off putting, and small talk wasn't exactly pushing her to eat either.

"A job is insane, Elisa— Especially knowing you, and how many classes you're probably taking already."

She smiled softly, hardly looking up from her plate as the sun faded not-so-perfectly behind the body across from her. "I think if I take two classes in the Summer and stay on track next year, I'll be finished a year early," She nodded to herself, knowing that was exactly what she wanted to do.

"Oh mon Dieu-"

She squinted when she looked up again, bringing her icy hand up to block her eyes from the sun.

"-Fou, je te dis."

Sawyer Alderidge had let her hair grow out to her waist. It was brushed over her shoulders, into her lap, and rested neatly among the fluffy pair of sweatpants she threw on over her leotard in a quick rush from the studio, to the street corner where they sat.

It warmed Elisa's heart to hear French from her tongue, knowing very well it wasn't exactly a language she was fond of speaking. Whatever happened in the four months they were away from each other was enough to let her feel comfortable speaking it to Elisa, which was endearing enough.

"You said you had an apartment down the street— Is that why you've got yourself a job?"

"I got a job because I was bored," Elisa snickered, tucking her hands into her lap when Sawyer gave her a look then leaned in hesitantly. "Je vis avec Oliver-"

Sawyer brought her hand over her mouth, stopping the water in her mouth from spraying across the table. "You what?" She coughed out, her eyebrows pinned together as her eyes began to water.

Elisa pressed her lips together in a timid smile, gripping the end of her sweater into her palm. "I moved in a week before classes started," She said slowly, "He had an extra room and, apparently, didn't want it for anyone or anything other than me."

"Christ," Sawyer retorted, straining over the water lingering in her lungs. "How is that?"

"Good," Elisa grinned, swiftly passing a napkin over for her to soak the water from her pants, "It's— Y-yeah, it's good."

"Right," Sawyer retorted, "Good how? Because that look on your face is giving me something other than roommates."

Elisa scoffed softly, flicking the food around her plate with a subtle shake to her head.

"Oh my God— You're something other than roommates-"

"Okay," She said quickly, "N-No. I-" She trailed off, rolling her eyes. "On Tuesday, we just had a moment," She said slower, tapping her foot down against the concrete anxiously.

Sawyer smiled softly, leaning forward to rest her elbows on the table. "A moment like— On my bed sort of-"

"God," Elisa groaned, her fork clattering when she dropped it, and moved her hands up to cover her eyes, "N-No— Not quite. But definitely— Definitely more than roommates."

Sawyer hummed in amusement, resting her chin in one hand as she picked up her fork and took a slow bite, waiting for Elisa to say more.

Elisa sighed, thoughtfully picking her fork and fumbled it around between her fingers. "We had rules," She said slowly, "And we knocked down every single one."