Think I Want to Twist the Plot This Time

Part 5

Think I Wanna Twist the Plot This Time

"I thought if everything was new, I could disappear from my own life."

—"Maradona" The Chainsmokers

Despite being hit with such excessive tiredness so late in the evening, somehow Barbie blinks awake just as dawn threatens to creep through the curtains. Realistically, she's probably only gotten a few hours of sleep, but she supposes her circadian rhythm is so set her body just knows when she's supposed to get up.

Or maybe it just knows she needs to get the heck out of here before Oppenheimer wakes up and then she's really trapped with little leeway into making a clean getaway back home.

But it's not too terrible if she relaxes here for another moment, right? Take in his heavy, deep breathing since he's still out like a light, his absolutely peaceful expression. Honestly, this is probably the first time he's looked perfectly content, like for once, the entirety of the universe isn't burdening his mind. His beautiful lips part slightly, and he's not snoring, but from this close she can hear each breath, still feel the rise and fall of his chest since their hands are still intertwined. His bony shoulder has somehow made a wonderfully comfortable pillow; his limp arm circling her shoulders is assuring and warm.

Her eyes trace his profile as they're adjusted to the dark, his dry skin, those gaunt cheekbones. Images she wants seared into her head, feelings she won't soon forget if she's lying in bed sometime later, reminiscing. Barbie sighs into his neck, curls up closer to Oppenheimer one more time before she's forced to part.

In that moment she fantasizes about sticking around as if there won't be any consequences. He'll probably wake by blinking those gorgeous blue eyes (eyes she won't get to see again, sadly), exhale and wish her good morning. She'll kiss him in return and ignore their morning breath because she'll still be too tired and content to part from him. As promised, he'll phone for breakfast and she'll eat her waffle with a grateful smile, light streaming into the room by that point of morning, probably wearing just his shirt again. She wonders what he might eat—he seems like the type to just survive off of black coffee, cigarettes, and vibes. Maybe after breakfast they'll have a round of morning sex, if they're up for it. And then, after that...

Well, that's just the thing. She can't see anything past the morning for them. She can't even comprehend a way for them to properly say goodbye, because it's just easier this way, to act like she's just a fleeting moment in his life.

That's enough for her to sigh, to finally start to part from Oppenheimer as stealthily as she can muster. Barbie starts with the most difficult part: taking her fingers from his, just one at a time. She hitches her breath as he turns his head; what if he wakes sometime during this? What's her excuse? She's just using the bathroom again and he should just go back to sleep? What if he's still up after that and she's dressed?

Well, the only thing she can do is just cross that bridge if she comes to it. For now, he still hasn't really stirred, and as she pulls his hand from hers, it's like she's officially closed the chapter on this adventure. It gets easier to move away after that, refraining from every temptation to give one last squeeze to his arm, or kiss to his cheek. Once she's moved away enough, she sits up, places her toes on the floor.

Barbie sneaks around the room like that, on her tiptoes like she's still a doll and this is just natural, even though she's just doing everything in her power to remain as quiet as possible. In the dark, she can barely tell what's hers and what's his from the piles on the floor, but she's pretty sure by feeling the material what's her blouse, her knickers, her skirt. She sneaks to her coat, just to find her phone in her pocket and look at the time. 5:21. She doesn't turn on the light to the bathroom until the door's closed and releases a breath she didn't realize she'd been holding.