𝐖𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐄 ━ five hargreeves

15│PROMISES, PROMISES

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❛ ᴡᴀsᴛᴇʟᴀɴᴅs ᴏғ ᴛɪᴍᴇ​​​​​​​​​​. ❜ ° . ༄
- ͙۪۪˚   ▎❛ 𝐅𝐈𝐅𝐓𝐄𝐄𝐍 ❜   ▎˚ ͙۪۪̥◌
»»————- ꒰ᴘʀᴏᴍɪsᴇs, ᴘʀᴏᴍɪsᴇs ꒱


❝ IF I HAD A NICKEL FOR
EVERY TIME I'VE DIED. . . ❞

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Dolores woke from the dark, comfortable sleep she'd been enjoying and her eyes opened to a similarly dark room. The lights were off and she could feel the weight of blankets on top of her as she lay in one of the most comfortable beds she'd ever experienced. Her gaze focused on the ceiling of the room as she idly wondered where she was, slowly taking in her new surroundings. She could feel the material of her clothes was different than they'd been all week, the rough fabric of the Academy uniform replaced by a soft cotton that indicated pajamas.

She shifted slightly and winced, the dull throb of pain in her side a reminder of the past few days as her awareness returned. She could also feel her right arm stretched out and the cool brush of air on her hand that told her that it had been moved out from the warmth of the blankets. It wasn't all cold, though; a light weight in her hand proved a familiar feeling as she registered someone was holding it. As she turned her head, a soft gasp of surprise left her lips once she saw exactly who it was.

The sound woke the drowsing boy, who sat up with a start and stared intently down at her as he tried to see into the dark. "You're awake."

"Yeah," the brunette replied softly. "I didn't think you'd be here."

He sighed. "I almost wasn't."

After a heartbeat of silence, she admitted, "I'm glad you are."

Glad that it was dark so she couldn't see his expression, Five awkwardly scratched the back of his neck with his free hand and quickly changed the subject. "How are you feeling?"

"Not bad, all things considered," she answered honestly. "I'll be right as rain— for real— in a few days probably."

"Good. That's good."

Dolores would have to be socially inept to not feel the uncomfortable tension in the air and she knew Five was mad? Disappointed? with her about something— probably her "heroic" act— but didn't know how to broach the subject. Rolling her eyes, she patted the empty space of the bed with her free hand. "Come cuddle."

He stared at her as if she were speaking another language— though if she had been, he would've no doubt understood— and asked, "what?"

She huffed in amusement at his dumbfounded tone and repeated the gesture. "Come on, it won't kill you. Besides, we've got a few hours before daybreak so we might as well rest."

"I don't want—" the boy started agitatedly before he groaned and stood. "You're absolutely ridiculous."

And just like that, the tension broke, leaving them with the comfortable interactions they'd had for years. Cautiously, Five joined her in his bed and the girl moved closer to the edge to give him some more room.

"I swear, if you hurt yourself—" he began, grumbling as he shifted into a more comfortable position.

"I won't," the brunette insisted. She curled against him as one arm tucked under her shoulders and the other looped around her waist.

"We really should be working."

"Nothing's going to happen in the three hours we're trying to rest, Fives," she told him, her tone taking on an irritated edge. "Goodnight."