𝐍𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐁𝐥𝐮𝐞 𝐒𝐢𝐠𝐧𝐬 | 𝙷.𝚂.

eighty two - the crumble ordeal

painful chapter

-ky

_____________________

The sounds of the busy city surrounding his apartment woke Nine up the following morning. Well, afternoon to be specific. 

It was twelve o'clock.

His stomach was rumbling, his eyes squinted from the light pouring in from the fire escape window, and his mind utterly confused. He didn't remember falling asleep, but he must have. He recalled sobering up just enough to drive himself and Gwen home and could somewhat think back on the events that followed.

Nine must've been extremely exhausted. 

He had in fact had a long day before and had barely eaten save for the toast and disgusting orange juice of Gwen's he tried the morning before. Food is fuel, and he certainly had none to spare after he'd gotten drunk enough to dance at the club.

His tiredness was proven when he propped himself up on his elbow in his bed, seeing that he hadn't even covered himself in his blanket or taken off his jeans.

But he was shirtless.

Which made him instantly remember Gwen seeing his back tattoos and vaguely go over the discussion that followed. He remembered seeing her sad eyes and knowing that she was going to try and make him feel better even though he didn't deserve it.

He could still hear the soft lull of the vinyl she purchased at the old bookstore that played while she was supposed to bathe.

Of course, that did not happen. 

But what had after that? Was he so tired that he couldn't even try and think back on what followed him sitting down on his bed and Gwen starting her inquisitive conversations for the millionth time he met her?

No. No, you aren't selfish for it.

His own words floated around his head, his body moving to sit up fully as his hands couldn't help but to aggressively rub his eyes, wishing the sleep away.

She might've not been selfish, but he definitely was. It seemed that he fell asleep during their discussion. The discussion they had that lacked antics, argument, teasing, or even a little jokes. Instead, he felt as though it held emotions that neither of them wanted to be there.

It felt like he'd admitted to her that he cared all over again, except this time, she told him that she enjoyed talking to him.

Hate, hate, hate. They were supposed to hate each other.

They needed to hate each other.

Nine groaned loudly, mostly to himself but also wishing that Gwen was somewhere in the apartment and could hear that he was awake.

Maybe she would walk in and offer him breakfa--

No.

He shook his head at himself and turned over to the side table, pulling the drawer open in search for his pain killers to aid his slight headache. 

The bottle was sitting on top of several papers that made his chest seize. Some were his investigation into who exactly it was that he shot and killed nearly a year and a half ago. The person that he thought was Brady Bird but was in fact just a look-alike that resembled him so closely, even Nine had gotten confused despite hunting him.

Just the reminder made him question if the man he saw aiding in Gemma's death had truly been Brady Bird, or rather this doppelgänger.

Was he wrong all along?