Just Friends. A Crabstickz, Kick The PJ and Jimmy0010 imagine.

Chap 2

The glow and subtle warmth of the morning sun steadily brightened your room with each passing minute, gently nudging you toward reality as it stirred you from your sleep. Eyes still shut tight; you fumbled for your phone beneath your pillow, pulling it out to glare at the harsh light as you opened your eyes. Through fogged vision you took in the first information of the day.

Sunday, Feb 23

9:02 AM

Sighing, you rolled over onto your side and smiled to yourself as you realized that, thank god, today you had no work. As the minutes passed, you laid there in the still silence of limbo, swaying between the conscious world and that of your dreams. It wasn’t long before your stomach put an abrupt end to that however; a growling hunger soon had you shifting around uncomfortably. Turning onto your back, you stretched; raising your arms above your head and flexing your toes as you emitted a soft squeak.  You lazily threw your duvet to the side, propping yourself up by your elbow as you slowly sat up tall, your drowsy head spinning from the sudden shift altitude. It was as you rubbed your brow you realised that you had the house to yourself this morning. Jimmy was at work, leaving the house free - you free for a partially nude pancake cook up, an opportunity you were not about to let go to waste. It was a rare thing to have space to yourself in this house, the usual comings and goings of your room mates and their guests ensuring there was never a quiet moment, or an empty kitchen. However, the recent unexpected turn of events had left your place feeling rather empty. With your house solely occupied by you and Jimmy, you were finding yourself alone a lot, with many freeing moments like this; in which you could do as you so unashamedly pleased.

Leaving your room and making your way down stairs, you yawned loudly, tying your matted hair in a loose bun and aggravating your stomach further with thoughts of the sickeningly sweet breakfast to come. Turning toward the kitchen, you were startled, stopped in your tracks by two large hazel eyes staring back at you. A prompt bolt of butterflies sharply stabbed your empty stomach; Chris was sat casually at the kitchen bench, a coffee in hand, his eyes now wide, a brow cocked. He was dressed comfortably; a baggy brown hoodie draped over a pale maroon shirt and a pair of ill-fitting blue jeans shrouding his slim legs. His whole outfit was lax, loose and layered, where as yours was near to non-existent. You were braless, dressed in nothing but a thin black singlet and bright red wonder woman underpants; something you became painfully aware of only then. Your immodest exhibition had him looking almost as stunned as you.  Mortified, all you could do was stand there, paralysed and watching on as his mouth curved to form an amused smile. His amusement was your horror; you would’ve been embarrassed had anyone seen you like this, but Chris…oh dear lord. You could feel the colour draining from your face as it rushed to your cheeks, your heart was palpitating. Clearing his throat, he gently placed his mug on the counter, greeting your mortified state with a nod and a short,

 “Morning.”

Words failed you; a series of incoherent noises escaped your lips as you took a few steps back, your eyes wide.

“Oh, err shh excu- m-”

He looked upon you bemused, smiling and cocking his head to the side slightly as he widened his eyes. Wonderful Y/N, you sounded as though you were having a stroke, that or you’d suddenly lost your entire grasp of the English language.  Either way, you’d just embarrassed yourself, a lot. Swivelling around, you bolted back up the stairs you’d so casually and unassumingly strolled down, bounding off every second step, your heart racing. You were sure you heard a faintest giggle echo behind you as you did. Real or imagined, it made your stomach churn with sheer embarrassment; you couldn’t get to your room quick enough.

After sorting out your dishevelled appearance, you cautiously left your room, dressed in a pair of blue skinnies and the baggiest knitted sweater you could find. In one slow, quiet motion, you tiptoed toward the stair banister, listening out for sounds of movement – sounds of Chris down stairs. You were well aware any attempt at being stealth was pointless; you were now living together, it would be impossible to avoid him forever. However, you also knew you were nowhere near ready to face him, not just yet anyway. As you stood silently debating your next move, the sound of floor boards creaking under foot caught your attention. A short sigh resounded from Jimmy’s room. Was he home?