Friends With Time ⌛ (Tyler Galpin x Reader)

Day 23-25

Day 23:

Your meeting with Afua is late, but brief, and you walk over to your room to paint in the last, fading moments of the day. You briefly consider painting on the top raft, to take in the sunset more fully, but remember how cold it was last night. December is finally starting to feel its age, crystallizing into frosty gales that skip across the surface of the choppy waves.

The bobbing of the raft would have ruined the detailing of the painting, anyway.

You trace the Eiffel tower against the sky, carefully, carefully; the spire of steel traces into your palms. You will stand there, you think, and paint it for real some day, when the light and shadow detailing on the spire won't be from pictures, but from the actual, moving light of Paris's electric dusk.

You dip your paintbrush into the water, swirling it and cleaning the tip with a paper towel. Your mouth stretches into a yawn, the calm, Christmas piano music coupled with the warmth of the Bubble lulling you into a kind of peace.

You hum along to the piano yourself as you shade in the majestic base of the tower, thinking of the days to come. You'll be spending Christmas here on the Bubble, by yourself. The thought  strikes you, and you shiver, pulling your brush back so not to disturb the painting.

You don't typically spend holidays with your mother, but you will miss the academy Christmas- the feast in the main hall, the decorations and wrapped doors that bedeck the dormitory, and the others who stay during break Christmas-caroling down the hallways. There would be quiet dorm Christmas parties and loud movie nights, with lots of treats like popcorn balls and all kinds of cookies.

The silence of the Bubble seems louder.

You clean your brush and set it down.

Dinner is simple tonight: leftovers, pho.

"Dinner," you announce, lowering one of the bowls you brought down onto the monster's tray and glancing up at the bare walls.

You sit down next to him, lowering yourself down to the ground.

He glances at you. "You're sitting next to me," he says, eyes running along the glass between you. "Aren't you scared I'll monster out or hurt you or something?"

You set your pho down into your lap. "Honestly? Yeah."

He scoffs, pulling off his jacket. "Well, at least you're honest, warden."

You lift the bowl, taking a sip of the flavorful broth. The taste of rich spices- cinnamon, anise, ginger- swirls around your mouth. You smile against the warm bowl.

"I had an idea," the monster says, eyes flickering from your face to your hands.

"Yeah?" you ask, glancing over.

"I think... I think we should call a Christmas truce," he says, smoothing down his jacket and lifting his head to meet your eyes. "You know. Act like friends for Christmas."

You point your spoon at him. "Right, so I get lulled into trusting you, and then you can manipulate me and escape."

He scoffs, throwing up his hands. "Y/N, it's for Christmas."

"Yes, and this is my reputation," you say, pointing to the door. "Afua would-"

He squints, then looks forward. "You're alone here. Afua isn't celebrating Christmas alone."

"You're right," you say sarcastically. "He's off making appearances at USOAT formal Christmas parties. So much more fun. But you wouldn't understand that."

The monster lets out a sigh, rubbing his forehead with a palm. "Look. Let's act like friends, and the day after Christmas, you can go back to treating me like the Hyde that killed your father."