Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
A/N - I can't lie, I don't even know if this chapter is absolute nonsense or not considering I am in a state of complete insobriety (I know it doesn't seem that way for some reason, but the fact that I've concocted this chapter on the spot says a lot) and well...yeah. Apologies in advance if this chapter makes zero sense, I normally read over my chapters three times before publishing them but I'm too high off my tits to do that this time, so here you go. Enjoy.
Also, please feel free to feed my need for validation—thank you.
[Y/N]'s POV:
I'm sitting in the car the next morning, cold as hell, still with last night's makeup and clothes on, while the car is parked outside the sad-looking pharmacy situated on the dingy corner of the road. I haven't had an ounce of sleep, nor have I had anything to eat, which explains why my stomach is currently rumbling like the prelude to a great thunderstorm and the bags under my eyes are puffy. My hair is an unkempt mess, hence why I'm currently brushing through it with my fingers, untangling all the wretched knots. I wince every time I manage to find one.
I bounce my knee up and down. I'm stressed that someone's going to see me here, sitting in the front passenger seat of Gojo's car—which is why I've got my black sunglasses on in the middle of winter. Gojo is taking far too long. I glance out the window. Considering how early in the morning it is on a Sunday, I'm surprised there's so many people who have the energy to walk their dogs at this time, especially while the sky is as grey as a hoary monolith and there is a light downpour of rain that is soon to become heavier as I speak.
These people are definitely a simulation.
I'm too busy focusing on random, irrelevant strangers and trying to work out what they do with their lives to the point where I don't even hear the sound of the car door opening as Gojo slides into the driver's seat. He doesn't say anything, he just shuts the door behind him and throws the morning after pill, hidden in discreet packaging, alongside a bottle of water on my lap. I look down at it, then up at him.
"Thank you," I tell him as I rip open the minuscule box. I'm grateful he paid for it because there was no way in hell that my social anxiety would allow me to walk in there. Gojo gives me a small nod before he puts the key in the ignition and twists, starting the engine. In all truthfulness, it's a little awkward between us right now since...
Well, since we slept together.
I'm not sure why. I didn't think it was going to be like this. I don't regret it at all, not in the traditional sense of course, but I'm wondering if he does. I adjust the black sunglasses on my face as he drives the car into the main road. I don't understand why it's so fucking busy on a Sunday morning.
Gojo turns the radio up. I don't say anything and just allow the music to infiltrate my ears as I watch the world pass by in a blur outside. The sounds of the raindrops pattering on the window are fascinating to me—I feel like a puppy intrigued by the most mundane things.
