XIV • : It Doesn't Last : •

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hi guys so i'm thinking about setting up a schedule for posting?? Idk i feel like I'm spamming y'all, what do you guys think? 🤔🤔

ALSO TAKE NOTE TO THE SUPER FREAKING SAD SONG ABOVE,, it's one of the three songs I listen to when writing. yes, only three. well, three and i occasionally put on rain and thunder noises,, i'll add the other two songs in the next two chapters ok ok thank you

random question bc i like to know you guys: do you have your reading mode in scrolling or paging? I have mine in paging.

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Thorin's POV

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I woke up with a face buried into the crook of my neck. I was surprised Thranduil could even breathe, but my groggy mind didn't think about it for too long. Without moving, I looked at the clock on the wall and squinted to see what time it was. When the image finally focused, I saw the clock read 5:30. I had about thirty minutes before I had to start getting ready for work.

I closed my eyes again and laid in complete silence, my cheek against the side of Thranduil's head. I started thinking about what I was going to do that day in some attempt to keep me awake. About ten minutes later, Thrandy inhaled deeply and began to stir. He tilted his head down enough so he could breathe better and whispered, "Thorin? Are you awake?"

"Mhm." I hummed in response, peering out into the darkness. It was nearly pitch black in my room spare the shabby moonlight peeking through the blinds. It only defined basic shapes near the window and bed before allowing the darkness to swallow the rest whole.

"What time is it?" His speech was slurred, making it obvious he just woke up. He pulled his face away from my neck and rolled over onto his other side to where his back faced me.

"5:40." I was about to sit up whenever he grabbed my arm from behind and pulled me over to him.

"You still have 20 minutes?" He queried, his voice slowly clearing up. He didn't let go of my arm until I tucked it around his stomach and pulled his back into me. He seemed satisfied after that and let go of his grip.

"Yeah," I laughed softly. He was adorable, especially when he was tired.

"Good." He pushed as far as he could against me and settled down into a crescent shape. He usually slumbered in a half-ball position, but I didn't know how. I'd have to constantly stretch my legs, that's why I usually slept on my back or splayed out on my stomach.

I smiled at his eagerness for me to stay home, but really, he had reason to. It must have been awfully lonely staying in the bedroom by himself every time I went to work; there was no one to talk to, not much to do. I probably would have lost my mind by then. I was amazed he was doing so well.

"When do you get off work today?" He interrupted my thoughts, sliding his hand down my forearm and resting it on my own.

"3 o'clock. It's an 8-hour shift." I responded lowly as I buried my face into his shoulder. He sighed in relief, probably because an 8-hour shift was a hell of a lot better than a 12-hour shift. On those days, I came home at 7.

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