seasons. : a fireafy fic

chapter twenty four

(a/n: nsfw- nakedness. no sex. very little plot, you can disregard if you'd like)

The morning sun basked her through the small window in Firey's apartment, and Leafy roused to realize she was alone in the bed.

She bolted upwards.

"Oh, hey." Firey's voice sounded. "You're finally up."

She looked across the room, and Firey was seated in front of his shelf, carefully inspecting his vinyl collection.

"What time is it?" she asked, her voice frantic.

"I don't know," Firey replied. He slipped the record back into its sleeve and picked up a new one. "It's winter break. It doesn't matter."

Leafy pursed her lips. He seemed to be completely sober now. That was good.

"Did you wake up early?" she asked.

"Not really," he replied, pulling another vinyl from its sleeve. "Woke up to Coiny spamming my phone with calls. I'm surprised you slept through it."

Leafy looked at the clock on his nightstand. 12:13. She slept a while. She stepped out of bed and made her way towards Firey.

She was up late, anyway. She wondered if Bubble ever noticed her absence.

"Do you want one of your sandwiches?" Firey's voice interrupted her taboo thoughts.

While the idea piqued Leafy's interest, she surprisingly wasn't hungry at the moment. She shook her head. "No, I'm not in the mood for one. Thank you, though."

Firey nodded, and placed the record he was inspecting into the player.

She peered over his shoulder and looked at the sleeve of the vinyl. Sex Pistols. She'd heard of them, but she'd never heard their music before.

"What song is this?" Leafy asked him, once the music began to crash throughout the room. It was a very upbeat, almost violent song.

She noted, only briefly, that Firey's apartment didn't feel nearly as empty as hers. It sounded, looked, and felt more lively.

Firey looked at her. "Bodies. Your breath stinks."

Leafy recoiled, covering her mouth. "I just woke up! Morning breath is normal."

Firey snickered. "I've got toothpaste in the bathroom. Feel free to use it. No extra toothbrush though, so just use your finger."

"Alright," Leafy said meekly, still covering her mouth. "Can I also use your shower?"

Firey paused, as if contemplating something, before beginning to clean up his vinyls.

"Sure," he replied. "Go shower. My bathroom is across from the kitchen. There's towels in the cabinet."

"Thank you," Leafy squeaked. She turned and hurried towards the bathroom, and locked the door behind her.

As expected, Firey's bathroom looked like a typical single man's bathroom.

On his bathroom counter, he had some hand soap, some clippers, and some deodorant. She picked up the deodorant and inspected it.

Old Spice Volcano.

She liked that scent. She put the deodorant back onto the counter, where it originally was.

Leafy looked into his mirror. It was surprisingly clean.

She looked at herself.

Despite everything, it was still her.

She found his toothpaste, lying next to the sink as if it was thrown haphazardly. She picked it up, squeezed a pea sized amount on her finger, and began to run the mintiness over her teeth with her finger.