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──── ' ma'am, this isn't a suicide hotline, this is a wendy's '──── [CH. XXVI] ✦ ˚
" what a shitshow "
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"ZERO."
Ophira fights against the tempting sensation of sleep that threatens to overcome them. They sigh slightly before resisting the temptation to give into the comfortability of their blazer that they snuggle into. Ophira's eyes manage to muster open, immediately meeting Five's gaze.
He sits by the bed he once inhabited, facing them. The length of his fingers buttoning up the fabric of the pyjama shirt he had thrown over the pale white tank top he wears underneath. Even half asleep, Ophira feels their abdomen flutter with heat.
They stare into the multitude of his hues, fully intent on counting every singular colour found between his eyes. They hold somewhat of a unique retrospective to them. "Hi."
The silence that follows is tense and slightly awkward, considering the events of their argument that they conceded the day before. Through the reconciliation of Ophira's thoughts, paired with the realisation and reflection of their own feelings, they had completely forgotten about their prior dispute.
"I'm sorry." They proceed to say in sync. Ophira is unable to stifle the smile that crosses their lips. This is becoming a common occurrence.
Five stands to his feet, raising himself from the bed without missing a beat. The top he wears is completely buttoned up now, the smooth column of his neck peeking out from the collar. "Did you stay here the whole time?" He inquires with a tone of curiosity in his voice.
