ā for my museās reaction to finding yours asleep on their couch.
He was taking his time with that cigarette, it was the last one of his pack, and at this time of the night no stores would be open, sitting on the emergency stairs of the building, legs dangling from the edge, forehead pressed against the cold rail. Any normal person would be comfortably tucked in bed, peacefully sleeping, but not him. He had slept a few hours a couple of days back, so now he was enjoying the quietness of his favorite place on his apartment ( Ironically it was technically outside ).Ā
He held onto the last drag of the cigarette, crushing the remains of it on the metal surface at his side before leaving it there, heād clean up, eventually. The smoke finally left his lungs through a heavy sigh, and a shiver ran down his spine, making his whole body tremble, hands lifting to curl around his own slim body, hugging his shoulders, for a summer night it was weirdly cold that night, or perhaps his worn out body was just sensitive, he decided on blamed it on the first option. Lazily, accompanied with a quiet groan, he forced himself up, arms stretching over his head, shoulders lightly cracking before his arms dropped back onto his sides, he had nothing to do now, no one to call or text at this time of the night, and as he made his way back into the apartment ( having to climb up a window ), he decided on start reading a book he had purchased not so long ago, but had never left the bag in which it was delivered.
His steps were slow, feet almost dragging on the wooden floor as he made his way through the small hall towards the part of the room that passed for a living room, the bag containing the book had being resting on the small coffee table since the day he bought it. His intentions ( And steps ) were interrupted, however, when his gaze fixed on the blonde locks that contrasted against the black fabric of the only couch on his living room, unable to see the face of the woman who appeared to be sleeping there, as she faced the backrest of the couch. He didnāt realized his own breathing had come to a halt until he saw her shoulders slightly moving up and down, accompanied her slow breathing, which made him let out the breath he had holding on at her same pace, a feeling of relief washing over him, even though if he wasnāt really sure why.
One of his arms curled around his middle, the other had bended to lift his hand and place it over his mouth, eyebrows lightly dipped, gaze fixed on the sleeping woman as he had stood behind the couch in an attempt to see her face to identify her, which he did. It hadnāt being many times they had held a conversation, and he couldnāt remember having mentioned her where he lived, he could only wonder how had she found his place, and why would she ever end up there to begin with. There was only one way to find out.Ā āYahā¦ What was your name again?ā He questioned out loud, more to himself than to her since she, of course, was still sleeping, however he was soon to remember, and the hand that hovered over his lips lowered to her shoulder, hesitantly at first but he gripped on her shoulder, shaking her a little, trying to be as gentle as possibleĀ āSeā¦ Serene, wake upā He called for her, once, twice, no answer.Ā āYah, you have to get up.. How do you even got here?āĀ
