As the first sunbeams of the day sneaked their way through the semi-opened curtains, the five remained fast asleep. They were relentlessly tangled, all five of them hamster-caged in the room fit for three, with no choice but to bunk like sardines or spend the night on the carpet - which Hugo was convinced had fungi growing underneath it.
The duvet - or whatever in hell that cheapskate tissue-thin thing should be referred to as - was almost entirely wrapped around Bric's petite yet fairly slender figure. She'd slept in decent amount of space Alma and Hugo left her. Alma's feet, however, had the pleasure of sharing a small portion of the blanket sufficing her feet, whilst Hugo, left with no other option, had laid his tuxedo' jacket over himself. Tom and Amar shared the rotting lavender-smelling loveseat - Tom semi-sitting up with his head propped up against the backrest whilst Amar had his legs dangling off the edge of the sofa, his head in Tom's lap.
If you took a step back your first impression would have been, Aw, that's cute, but as you realised who they were you'd wonder how the high life - bikinis in yacht-based parties, champagne in your hand, which eventually led to sex on deck under the big open sky as the boat was rocked by gentle ocean waves, the sea foam sprinkling onto you and moistening your tanned skin - boiled down to this utterly fucked-up no-budget, lowlife mess.
Of course, you'd have to take into consideration these five weren't your average celebrities.
No, they were different. They were something else.
But as of right now, 7:16:42 in the morning on the Saturday postwhat was seemingly the grandest gala of the season, something else was bloody off the track of time. Tardy was sort of a major understatement at this point.
See, had the skies been relieved of its massively alarming winds last night, and had the flights not been cancelled due to nasty turbulence, Tom and Alma would have been halfway around the world by now. Hugo, Amar and Bric would have been awake by now, and getting ready for Phase 2.
Had nature not messed this up, the plan would be well underway.
The wheels had been set in motion, but now the road was getting a bit too rocky for their likings.
But of course, instead of dwelling upon all of this and thinking about how the timeline would go now - they proceeded to sleep, not a care in the damned world.
Until of course, the sun shone into their eyes, stirring them one by one.
"Someone close the curtains," Alma mumbled, her voice thick with fatigue.
"They are closed," Hugo groaned back, being a little grouch, as he usually was. "They're thinner than the damned blanket. Oh, which I very much enjoyed sharing, by the way, thanks." He then rolled over onto a side, away from the two girls. He was the most easily ticked off amongst the five and whilst he really wanted to continue sleeping, the stress was already getting to him despite only being half awake.
"Hugo, shut up. Don't be a bitch," Tom muttered, shifting a little under Amar's weight.
"Your mom's a bitch," he snapped back, still raspy-sounding.
"Yeah, OK," Tom said back then, immediately falling asleep again, soft snores emerging from the couch in synchrony with Amar's.
Hugo's eyebrows tensed although his eyes remained shut, confused. He'd already lined up a string of cusses, and now he wasn't going to get to use until Tom woke back up. With a sigh and ease, he nodded off once again.
Six minutes later, loud thuds were heard from the alternate side of the door. At once they jolted awake, their eyes alert - and perhaps even a little panic-stricken.
