𝐂𝐀𝐋𝐀𝐌𝐈𝐓𝐘 → original

nine

Amory is the first to wake up, probably due a mix of his circadian rhythm already being used to rising early and his excitement to see Vallie. He rose quietly from the bed, careful not to rouse Lou, then slipped out of the room still in his pajamas.

He looked around the living room, feeling foolish for hoping that Vallie would be waiting there. Tyler never gave them an exact time frame, so he knew that there was some possibility that she wouldn't be there until much later in the day. Not wanting to go back to bed, Amory took a seat on the couch and flicked on the TV, careful to keep the volume low. He froze when he heard the creak of the steps behind him, worried he woke someone up, before turning and seeing Ophelia, bright-eyed as ever.

"Oh." She spoke, her smile dropping only slightly. "Hey, Amory."

"Expecting someone else?" Amory teased before patting the spot next to him for her to sit.

She didn't have to say. Of course she was expecting someone else, she had hoped to descend the stairs and see Vallie sitting there. She selfishly wanted to be the first one to see her, to hug and laugh and not care if they woke the others. Ophelia had gotten very little sleep due to this very excitement.

Ophelia took the seat next to Amory despite there being plenty of room elsewhere, and he threw a heavy arm around her shoulders. He squeezed her lightly into his side before letting her go, knowing that she needed the comfort just as much as he did. They sat in silence for a few moments, nothing but little yawns escaping their mouths.

"Do you still write?" Ophelia questioned after a bit, turning her attention away from the TV.

"Yeah, I do." Amory smiled warmly, happy that she remembered that passion of his. He liked the idea of being thought of as a writer first, rather than a football player. In all the haze of missing Vallie and hating Tyler, he hadn't found the time to write yet during the trip.

"Me too." Ophelia smiled back brightly.

Without even having to communicate their thoughts, they both dispersed back to their rooms and retrieved their laptops. They didn't need wifi to open up word documents, and now in the early morning quiet, disrupted only by the singing of birds outside, it felt like the perfect time to put their thoughts to words. Ophelia started a pot of coffee and made herself a cup before settling back down by Amory, their knees touching.

Amory's book was really more of a skeleton than anything else. He had so many ideas, so many scenes or quotes that would pop into his head while working out, or at the grocery store, or on the field. Although he didn't want to admit it to himself, he was scared. Nothing was more terrifying to him than the idea that he would never write a book that would outshine his football career, and he would only ever be remembered by history as the stellar wide receiver on the less than stellar team.

Ophelia didn't have the same hang ups about writing, because she was not interested in writing a book. At least, she wasn't right now. At this point in her life, she was only interested in writing short form, things like poems, short stories, essays. Anything that she could pour her heart into, to drain whatever emotion was holding her down out nice and neatly, so she could feel like she was able to breathe again.

The only issue now, was, she wasn't sure what she was feeling. She wasn't exactly angry at Vallie, more just hurt and confused. That was muddled by her feelings of excitement, though, so it was making it hard for her to put anything concrete down. She found herself sipping from her mug, then glancing over at Amory's blank word document, then his face.

"What are you working on right now?" She tilted her head to the side, eyeing him.

"I honestly don't even know." Amory rubbed at his eyes. "I want to write something that means something to people, but I'm not even sure what that means."