7│PAINT IT, BLACK

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❛ ᴡᴀsᴛᴇʟᴀɴᴅs ᴏғ ᴛɪᴍᴇ​​​​​​​​​​. ❜ ° . ༄
- ͙۪۪˚   ▎❛ 𝐒𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍 ❜   ▎˚ ͙۪۪̥◌
»»————- ꒰ᴘᴀɪɴᴛ ɪᴛ, ʙʟᴀᴄᴋ꒱


I SEE A LINE OF CARS / AND
THEY'RE ALL PAINTED BLACK /
WITH FLOWERS AND MY LOVE /
BOTH NEVER TO COME BACK 

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Luther woke to the sound of his alarm blaring, alerting him that it was time to get up. He groaned; he was free of that waking-up-early life, yet it had been his choice to fall right back into it. He reached out a hand to press snooze, turn it off, something. For the moment, he was too exhausted to notice that the force of his hit had broken the machine entirely rather than simply silence it.

He reluctantly struggled to sit up, his head spinning at the change of angle. His stomach rolled dangerously and his mouth felt as dry as sandpaper. It looked like he would be in for a hell of a day. He dressed groggily, stumbling around his small apartment as he did so. Ben was still asleep on the couch and didn't wake even with all the noise he was making. When he got to the fire station, he was barely aware of the other volunteers giving him judgmental looks.

The fire commissioner noticed, too, and pulled him aside. "Luther, are you drunk? You know we don't let anyone go on call unless they're in full control of their facilities."

"No, no. I just had. . . had a family reunion last night," he explained, his words slurring in a way that didn't help his case.

His boss pressed his lips together in a thin line. "Well, I'm not letting you drive any of the trucks today. I don't think you should even be here— you should be resting, but I know you won't go home if I tell you to. Take it easy today, okay?"

"Yes, sir," the blond agreed.

Not long after, one of the guys, Adam, called him over. "Hey, man, can you help us get these hoses over to the truck?"

Although he didn't think he had the strength for it, Luther agreed. As went over to them, though, some of the sickness ebbed. Strength flowed into his limbs. When he got to the hoses, he picked one up in his hand and effortlessly slung it over his shoulder as if it were a garden hose. The other guys stared at him in shock.

"How are you doing that?"

"Have you been lifting weights without us knowing?"

"You've gotta give me that recipe for the protein shake you must be drinking!"

While he was still feeling rather poorly, that didn't stop the beaming, triumphant smile from appearing on his lips. He easily picked up a second hose and hooked it on his other arm. His arms and legs felt great as the power he'd been lacking in his limbs flowed back into them. And, the best part was, he was returned to his full strength and he got to keep his normal, human body.

✧ ✧ ✧

"Hey, mister!"

Diego glanced with faint interest towards the boy who had called over to him. He'd been taking another 'unofficial' break during his patrol shift. Too lazy to make a stop to go to the bathroom, he'd pulled over at the park and gone to the surrounding woods to relieve himself. He was taking his time to get back to his car and was paying for it by having a shouting exchange with a random kid. "What?"

"Can you throw us the ball back?"

He'd been so zoned out (his mind preoccupied with what had happened last night) that he hadn't noticed the basketball that had rolled into his path. He sighed, preparing himself for being made fun of for missing the court completely. He scooped the basketball up and lobbed it carelessly with one arm. Ready to make a beeline out of there to keep the kids from mocking him, he didn't even pay attention to where the ball went.

𝐖𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐄 ━ five hargreevesWhere stories live. Discover now