𝐅𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐃𝐒 ❥︎ 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐬𝐥𝐞𝐲

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐰𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐲 𝐬𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧

"Are you hungry or anything?" Wriothesley asked the moment you set foot in his place.

"Not at all,"

"Okay, the bathroom is the second door down the hall. Feel free to shower,"

"I'm surprised you aren't fed up of me," you teased, voice growing heavy with exhaustion.

"That's impossible, and you know it,"

You dragged your suitcase in the direction Wriothesley claimed the bathroom was.

It was pristine and a mainly a mixture of light greys and beige's.

Your hand found the light before you dug out the last set of clean pyjama bottoms you had.

"Wriothesley?" You called out from the bathroom.

"Yeah?"

"Do you have a spare top I can wear for the night?"

"I should have something hold on,"

You awkwardly stood in front of the mirror as you heard his footsteps move past the door.

Minutes later, you heard a gentle knock.

You opened the door enough for him to stick his arm through.

"It's an old shirt a friend of mine got me but it doesn't fit me."

"Thanks," you said, grabbing the scrunched up fabric from his hand.

Surprisingly, it still smelled clean, and wearing it was the equivalent of being engulfed in feathers.

You glanced at yourself in the mirror, intrigued by the design.

The shirt was grey with a print of  a cat that looked like it had been drawn by a six year old.

But it was comfy as hell.

So you didn't question it.

You emerged from the bathroom and heard Wriothesley in the kitchen, either putting away or taking out cups and plates.

You walked back to where he was but paused in the doorway, waiting for him to notice you, and just as you ran a hand through your hair, he looked up.

"Nice outfit," he commented.

"Is there a reason you have this or..."

He let out a noise that was a mix between a laugh and a sigh.

"Couple years back, me and an old friend of mine worked at a summer school for kids just to earn some extra cash. One of the kids drew that exact drawing of a cat, and my friend got it printed on a t-shirt,"

"It's quite possibly the comfiest thing I've worn,"

"You can keep it if you want," he suggested, pouring himself a cup of tea.

"Really!?" You almost gasped.

"Sure," he shrugged. "I've outgrown it anyway, and it looks better on you than it ever did on me,"

You walked up behind and wrapped your arms around him as a thank you.

"You're welcome, love," he muttered. "Also, would you like some?" he asked, referring to the tea.

"I think I'll just have a glass of water,"

The man set aside the kettle and reached into a cupboard to take out a glass, and in the meantime, you propped yourself on his kitchen counter, legs dangling.

Wriothesley turned back around and froze for a second before handing you the glass.

You set down to the side after drinking it, feeling slightly more awake.