Freaks

30 • afterthoughts

❝i will never be a morning person
for the moon and i, are much too in love❞
ｃ. ｐｏｉｎｄｅｘｔｅｒ

___

   "Emma, Em, wake up. C'mon, it's late."

"Mmhmm."

"- ̗̀sigh ̖́- What's your room number?"

"Mmm. Forgot."

"Your key, then. It should have it on, shouldn't it?"

"Forgot...it... Was going to ask... Cass. Open door."

"You were going to ask— why would Cass be up at 3am? Never mind."

"Where're...going...?"

"...Some place else."

❧

ＰＩＬＬＯＷＳ don't have a heartbeat.

They don't stretch across your entire frame, tangling their legs within yours, hand loosely around your waist, muttering incoherent nothings into your neck as you slept.

Pillows don't feel like soft, hard skin against your back and they certainly don't exude their own body heat.

That morning, I wake up with the sun in my eyes, and a lapse in common sense. Because it takes the movement of muscles rippling under my skin, and the low groaning sound of a sleepy yawn for me to realise that perhaps, my pillow wasn't a pillow after all but a living, breathing person. . .

Who happened to go by the name of Cole.

The instant this realisation hits me, I tear off the blanket that covers us and let out a strangled yelp as I disentangle my body from his. Cole meanwhile remains in a state of innocent confusion, making a small sound of protest before dragging the discarded blanket back over him and turning away from me.

"What time is it and why on Earth are you in my room?!" I all but scream.

"Actually," Cole mutters sleepily, "you're in my room." He raises himself into a half-sitting position, rubbing his eyes. "Thought that would've been obvious from the one bed situation."

Ah. Looking around the room, that made more sense. Cole's new room vaguely resembles his old quarantine room — a larger, homelier version of it, that is — with its blue-grey walls, oak furniture and the fact there are actual windows here.

"Oh. Well okay." My voice drops... only to rise again. "So why am I in your room?" I question instead.

"Entirely your fault—you fell asleep on the roof, and more or less refused to wake up, so I had to fly us back here. I didn't know your room number, and you weren't answering properly so I couldn't take you back there even if I wanted—and considering who your roommate is, it wasn't exactly a conversational topic I was looking forward to anyway."

"Okay," I murmur, dragging a hand through my hair, "that makes sense."

"Probably because it's true."

My eyes flicker down to Cole who is still casually laid there on the floor, half-leaning against the bed-frame with an arm over his face, as if the light streaming through the adjacent window was too bright for him.