Waterbottle | Number 5 x Reader

Little Happy Reunions

Weekdays were actually more full than weekends, more specifically after school. When the bell rings, you're already biking to the library, along with the kids who either like books or were assigned to find one for English class.

After locking your bicycle in the front, you swing your backpack off your shoulders and into the break room. Your water bottle watches Sadly while you leave.

Will I need it? You eye the bottle. I feel a little thirsty but...screw it. I'm taking it.

Bottle in hand, you walk out the room and towards the back where new shipments of books stood tall.

I feel different today. Humming along to a cheerful tune, you take a quick sip from the water bottle then set it on a neighboring table.

You're already at the boxes, meticulously slicing them open with an Exacto knife. A wave of fresh-book smell hits your nostrils. Jesus, you could get high off of that stuff.

Ah, yes, the new arrivals of young adult romance. How...appalling, you stick your tongue out playfully at the multi-colored books. Everyone liked romances, yourself included, but they were over-saturating the market this time of year.

Hours pass by with you opening boxes, stamping their books with labels and rolling them to their designated areas. It's methodical in a sense you repeated the same steps over and over. You want to take a break but cash money, you lack it.

Tyler doesn't come until six, ugggh I'm sooo tired. You heaved the now-fixed cart past a narrow space. This compartment needed to be organized in the adult science compilations area.

Once the boxes laid in place, you took a breather. Okay, fuck it. I'm taking a break. Water first, books later.

Running back to grab your bottle at the back, you find someone already beat you to the punch. More specifically, why the hell is some random kid in the back?

Oh shit. Wait. You spot the knee-high socks.

Fuck.

"You."

Private-kid spins on his heels, hand clutching your bottle. Your clean, baby-blue n' rainbow water bottle. His face contorts when he recognizes who called him.

"You."

Well, that's not a very nice tone of voice.

"What are you doing back here? You're not supposed to be back here." You stride up to the guy, eyes swirling with confusion."And what are you doing with my water bottle?"

"Your water bottle? I don't think so. This one is mine." Five looks down at the bottle. It's clean. His face goes blank.

It's not his, not his timeline water bottle. It was yours. His was covered in scratches and faded in color from years of use, even peeling in some areas. Yours was clean, pure—NOT his. While roaming the library, he happened to spot it, thinking he brought the bottle during his last visit, and, well, here you both are.

"No. That one is mine," you hold out your hand for it, "check the bottom. I have my initials there."

Five checks and he knows your initials are there (he's seen it time after time in the apocalypse.), but still does so regardless.

"Sorry. I must have been mistaken for mine. I have one just like it," Private-kid gingerly hands the bottle back to you, his other hand in his pocket.

"It's not a problem," You grip the bottle tightly.

A weird feeling crawls up your throat. He's just staring. You can feel how his eyes burn your head. How do you continue the conversation? What do you say?