𝐖𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐄 ━ five hargreeves

17│THE RIM OF THE WORLD

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❛ ᴡᴀsᴛᴇʟᴀɴᴅs ᴏғ ᴛɪᴍᴇ​​​​​​​​​​. ❜ ° . ༄
- ͙۪۪˚   ▎❛ 𝐒𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐄𝐍 ❜   ▎˚ ͙۪۪̥◌
»»————- ꒰ ᴛʜᴇ ʀɪᴍ ᴏғ
ᴛʜᴇ ᴡᴏʀʟᴅ ꒱


❝ JUST HAVING AN
EXISTENTIAL CRISIS ❞

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Dolores woke the next morning with a pounding headache. She groaned with discomfort as she shifted from the position she'd fallen asleep in: propped up against a wall with her head resting against it while the rest of her body lay stretched out on the ground. There were several empty bottles of varying types of liquor next to her and when she moved her hand, a light weight rolled out of it. She forced her eyes to focus past the splitting pain in her head to see what she'd been holding, which turned out to be a black Sharpie. It was then that she realized that she couldn't recall a single thing from the wedding last night.

Actually, scratch that; there was one thing that she could recall: Five's pained, betrayed look as he stumbled out of the banquet hall to see Ben kissing her. It was the one memory that she wished she didn't have; she'd do anything to forget about it— and even more to erase the previous night from existence. The brunette closed her eyes as the scene replayed itself in her mind and she cringed at what had happened. Ben, really? Out of everyone that was left in the world, why did it have to be him? Granted, Five had no right to complain or be hurt by it— he'd been the one to break things off with her, after all. But still, it wasn't like she'd wanted to kiss Ben; it had just been one of those wrong place, wrong time sort of things. She hoped that her now-ex-husband wouldn't make too big a deal out of it. (Of course, she never got what she wanted. If that were the case, she'd still be happily married and never have kissed. . . ugh.)

After several more minutes of throwing a pity-party for herself, Dolores decided to get herself in order. Her mouth felt incredibly dry from all the alcohol she'd consumed and she was certain that the hotel had painkillers somewhere. Plus, she could really use a shower and it would be nice to change out of her formal dress.

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So, that's exactly what she did— just not in that order. After refreshing herself, she went downstairs to the kitchen for a glass of water and to scrounge around for some breakfast. Even if it was the end of the world— in more ways than one— she should still try for a sense of normalcy. It was just her luck, then, when she encountered Five, who was also trying to orient himself.

He was standing with his back to her in front of one of the prep areas. Cereal had been spilled over the metal surface of the counter while a mess of bowls lay turned upside-down nearby. He'd lost his suit jacket and was just in his button-down white shirt and black vest— a rather attractive look, she thought.

Dolores didn't quite know how to proceed and considered quietly backing out. That's when the boy turned to face her. Her heart skipped a beat at how devilishly handsome he looked even when he wasn't completely put together. His dark hair flopped over his eyes and stuck up at odd angles; his shirtsleeves were pushed up to his elbows and his vest was wrinkled. She didn't know what to say (a part of her wondered if he remembered the scene he'd stumbled in on) as she took in his appearance.

Five was the first to speak and when he did, it was clear that he hadn't forgotten what he'd seen last night: "what do you want?"

The brunette tried to answer but found her mouth too dry, so she coughed a few times to get her voice in working order. "Um, just. . . just some water."

"Are you sure you're not looking for Ben?" he asked, sneering the man's name as if it were an insult.

She flushed. "You don't know what you're talking about."