If Walls Could Talk // JAYTIM (HOPELESS FOOLS #1)

5. Oh, not everything is so primitive

5. Oh, not everything is so primitive

           Tim doesn’t know what happened. He doesn’t know how he ended up here. All he knows is that he had woken up gasping. A sudden wave of confusion hits him, and for a second he forgets that this was in fact, his room. Along with the confusion, he feels drowsy and his mouth feels dry. 

           All the symptoms leading him to believe that he was under the influence of a sedative.  But why?

           He wishes he knew why, but along with the symptoms comes fuzzy memory. But no matter, his brain has already started coming up with possibilities of what might have happened, going from explainable and plain; to weird, eerie and potentially dangerous. 

           All he knows is that somebody had him under some sedative and then left him at his apartment, meaning that they either already knew his secret identity, or they had taken a peak while he was under the influence of whatever sedative someone injected him with.

           For once he has no clue on what he has to do, even though his mind is coming up with ten thousand different plans, but the faint smell of strong deodorant and sweat that lingers in the room is enough to keep him distracted. It’s so familiar that he wants to get a hold of it and make a candle out of it, but it’s also making him feel uneasy. 

      

           The missing fragments of memory making it hard for Tim to make a legitimate game plan to base his actions on. So he’s left here vulnerable and confused on how he ended up here. 

      He wants to cry and throw a tantrum because he’s never been this flustered before. But he can’t and he won’t because he doesn’t have his parents to console him. He’s helpless and lonely. Not that they were ever around to witness his tantrums, but doesn’t really care. He just wants Alfred, or anyone to comfort him. 

           Before he even realizes, his body gets up from the bed, walks past the carelessly thrown Red Robin gear and walks out of the bedroom. 

           Once Tim’s brain is finished spiraling, his attention diverts to the kitchen. He tries to shake his head, thinking that he’s sleep deprived as hell and there’s no way he’s in the kitchen while he was spiraling in the bedroom about 2 minutes ago. But when Tim’s eyes land on the clock, his eyes widen and he tries to comprehend that it’s 2 PM in the afternoon. 

           “No, no, no, no” He chants as he paces back and forth. His hands immediately find their way up to his face, trying to hide it from the humiliation. 

           He tries to search for his phone, which was thankfully in plain sight. Promptly, he dials his assistant's number. 

           With every passing second Tim’s heartbeat fastens and his anxiety thickens. 

           “Hello?” The familiar voice of his assistant speaks. “Mr. Drake, how are you feeling? Miss Gordon told me you were sick so you won’t be coming today, but don’t worry Mr. Fox has it handled”.