idk (mw fanfic)

1

(just going to let you know in advance, i haven't been on wattpad in ages nor have i written any stories in a very long time. that said, i thought this might be a nice chance to write again, but i don't expect to make anything very immersive. also wtf wattpad, why can't i indent. I WANT TO INDENT- eh, ok, fine. no indent. right. all hunky-dory (i always wanted to say/write that lol). anyway, i guess i'll start writing the story now. i've stalled long enough, haven't i? btw i still think the no indent thing is stupid. ok, ok, i'll start now)

In the emptiness of a black void, distant murmuring washed over him like waves. They crashed overhead, a buzzing friction muddled by his seemingly submerged state. Drifting deeper and deeper into that inky abyss, he slipped further into a realm of silence and stagnation.

It felt no different when he opened his eyes and cast his gaze across his darken room. Rolling out of the sheets, he didn't even wince when the bottoms of his feet settled on the frigid wooden floor. 

With a huff, he propelled himself towards the shaded window across his flat, passing the worn refrigerator that hummed monotonously along his way. Tugging the faded curtains aside in a single, steady movement, murky light flooded into the room, draping everything it touched in a film of dull gray. 

Very fitting, indeed.

To complete this routine, he guided himself towards the coffee machine and fixed himself a cup; no cream, no sugar, just coffee. Clasping his hands around the lukewarm cup, he raised it to his lips and sipped slowly. The bitter drink spilled fluidly down his parched throat, leaving a small hint of sweetness in its trail, but nothing remarkable. 

Wandering back towards the window, he pulled a chair aside and seated himself. While placing his drink onto the adjacent dining table, the back of his hand brushed against the cool glass of an empty beer bottle, which clinked hollowly against another.

He groaned, sliding out of his chair and taking the bottles with him to the sink. Placing his coffee on the counter, he ran the water until it was warm and, after dispensing foamy dish-soap into the bottles, watched them fill to the brim. 

Once done, he shut off the water and gently shook them, and emptied them into the sink. After a few more rinses, he placed them down to dry, intending to dispose of them later.

Picking up his half-empty coffee cup, it seemed the remnants of any warmth had escaped, leaving a miserably cold mug. 

He took a quick sip again, tasting no real difference; it was the same bitter taste as before, albeit less sweet and perhaps more stale, but he could care less on such a drear day.

Intending to return by his window-side seat, he paused as he caught the shadow of some stranger sitting in his chair with strange wiry lines extending from the figure. Surely enough, when he looked up, there sat someone (or something) looking back at him with a toothy grin plastered on their face and red strings protruding from their back.

Unfortunate. Must be a Saturday.