00:00:00 (barrel and moon)
in a universe where everyone is born with numbers on their wrists counting down to when they’ll meet their soulmate, send me 00:00:00 for my muses reaction to their numbers hitting zero when they meet yours
He was really nervous. Not that this surprised anyone - Barrel was always nervous. But today especially.
He’d woken up that morning with a number under 10 for how many hours he had left until he met his soulmate, which was... nerve-wracking, to say the least.
As he walked down the street, bag slung over one shoulder, trying to get to class before the professor made an example out of him in front of everyone, again, Barrel could hardly keep his eyes off the dwindling number.
One minute. 59 seconds. 58. 57.
He rounded the corner, staring at his wrist intently, so focused on it that he hardly even registered that he was going down the wrong side of the subway stairs. It, of course, did not take long before he was crashing into someone, nearly sending them both tumbling down the staircase.
“Oh, sh- I’m so sorry! I wasn’t watching where I was- I was just watching my-”
His timer, which was flashing at him, visible where it peeked out from under denim jacket.
He looked up, startled, gaping a little. “I-”
He couldn’t string together a sentence to save his life. “I-I’m going to miss my- miss my train. I mean-! I’m not- I don’t- I’m not trying to-” Obviously flustered, Barrel put his hands over his face, cheeks red with embarrassment. “I’m sorry.”
baratheonpilled
prguitarman
turnnoffyourmind
areudirty
