Thomas Sanders Sides OneShots 4

Running late - Roman x Virgil & Logan x Patton

8:10pm

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AU
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He was running late. Black brief case wildly hitting against his legs as he ran, a stack of papers barely still tucked under his arm, pressed against his chest tightly, a worried and frantic expression etched into his face. Crossing the road in a dash, he yelled a loud apology at a car that beeped loudly while passing him by a mere inch.

Crashing through the doors to the building, people looked up over at him, all looking unimpressed. The owner - an older lady - appeared out of nowhere, stopping him from sprinting up the staircase, eyebrow risen in an unimpressed look. He really should set more alarms. Dropping his brief case, he messily brushed back his dark black hair, fixing the papers that hung loosely and messily in his arm.

"I'm so sorry, Mrs Grace" he apologised quickly, fumbling for his brief case he dropped a few more times accidentally. Mrs Grace only sighed, shaking her head while pushing her glasses up her nose, staring at him disappointedly.

"You worked so hard for that damn attic, you think you can just turn up late everyday?!" She exploded, the man flinching back as he stumbled for apologises, picking up the items he continuously dropped in his anxious and adrenaline-pumped state. "I promise it won't happen again!" He quickly blurted, people from around them who were "accidentally" listening in all snorted, chuckling quietly to themselves.

"You make a fool of yourself everyday, Mr Caraway" Mrs Grace muttered, turning her nose up at him as she walked away to greet the people who walked in. Sighing, he watched her go, turning back forward to dart up the staircase, completely disregarding the elevator as last time he used it he accidentally got himself and four other people trapped - one of those people having disastrous claustrophobia, it was a mess. Mrs Grace was the most angriest she's ever been, and Caraway would rather never see that again.

After the many flights of stairs, he reached the top, mostly unused, floor and used the small key to unlock the mahogany wood door at the end of the hallway, locking it after him like Mrs Grace instructed on the very first day.

Finally calmed down, he moved up the small last staircase, his feet disturbing the layer of dust that settled on the ground. Breathing in the scent of old wood, he smiled to himself, the noises of the hotel underneath him silent from the attic, leaving him able to write in peace. Walking across the big room, he ducked under a few low hanging wooden bars, sitting on the broken leather chair, brief case landing on the table, next to the pile of papers he placed down first.

Unlocking and opening the case, he brought out a few things he would need, pulling open the draw to take out the many pages of paper he would use to write his story.

The reason why he did it here, in this attic, was because where he lived wasn't the most peaceful and quiet of places - seeing as he could only work in silence - this was the best place he could accidentally stumble upon.

Now here, he flicked over the first page, ready to start writing when a soft gasp left his lips, eyes staring at the words already written on the paper in cursive writing. He...he hadn't done this, and to his knowledge no one else could get up here, and he definitely locked the door last time. This pile of paper was left in this draw, no one able to access it, so how had someone written on it?!

Flicking the pages over and over, he must've gone past thirty before his mouth fell open, unable to move as he stared at the words that formed on the paper on their own. He couldn't help it, he screamed, jumping back from the desk. The chair behind him fell but he didn't care, running to the door, he crashed into it, forgetting it was locked.