Symphysis ↠ Chris Schistad [Discontinued]

06

Saturday Morning

My eyelids steadily fluttered ajar, the sun peaking in from the fabric curtains blinding my fragile pupils.
I let my gaze trail around the perimeter of the wall in front of me, and the unfamiliar side table placed beside me.

I perched myself into a sitting position, as I combed my fingers through my messy tangled hair.
My original clothes from last night were draped over the edge of the bed.
I touched around my face to find it surprisingly - bare and clean.
Weird.

I moved my confused gaze to my right to recognize a peaceful, shirtless sleeping Chris.

My face became soft at the sight of him, and mostly because I wasn't with a total stranger.
The sides of my lips curved upwards into a slender smile, his hair messy in small waves, his face dug into the firm pillow.
I was tempted to run my fingers through his delicate hair, to massage his scalp, to comfort him.
But my mind told me otherwise.

I gradually let my feet fall to the wood floor, letting some weight off the bed.
I noticed I was wearing a shirt that draped all the way down to almost my kneecap, not exposing my undergarments that I was only wearing under it.
I creaked the door open cautiously as I could hear pots and pans clashing together faintly from down the stairs.

I progressively made my way downstairs, peeking through every corner I came across, as I managed to locate the noises that came from the kitchen.

A tall broad boy was scrambling up some food, his back side facing me.

"Hey." I divulged my presence, rolling back and forth on the balls of my feet.

The boy turned to face me to acknowledge my presence.
William.

"Hey." He verbalized, turning back to continue his cooking.

"Do you know what happened last night?" I inquired, biting on my bottom lip nervously.

"Mm, nope. You'll have to ask Chris." He conversed, as he flipped a golden pancake.

"Okay." I mumbled.

"Do you know if any of my friends stayed here?" I persisted my train of questions, as I gathered force to plop myself down on a black steel stool.

"Just you and Noora." He rejoindered, the smell of buttermilk pancakes filling the air.

I stayed silent for a moment, multiple scenarios going through my head.