Waterbottle | Number 5 x Reader

Follow Suit

I feel stupid. You frown at the clock from the front desk.

The excitement that bubbled in your chest earlier died when the thirty minutes after the second hour passed.

You flick your eyes closed then ran a hand through your hair. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. He was playing with you, you dumb shit. He's not coming back.

Banging your forehead against the desktop, you hear the entrance bell ring. Perking up, you faced the door with hope swelling in your chest.

Disappointment greeted you once you realize it was just Tyler.

"Whoa, what's up with that face?" Tyler hung around the front desk, waving a hand over your face.

"The guy."

"What guy? OH—Private-kid?? What about him?" Tyler set his satchel on the desk along with himself too.

You dig your face into your arms.

Mumbling did not help Tyler in the slightest, despite it all, you frankly didn't give a shit. Not anymore at least. Five took your last one.

"I talked to him."

"You talked to him!" Tyler shook your shoulder a bit, but you shrugged off his touch, "that's good...right?"

"No. No, not good! He was cute, and I fell for it! I feel like an idiot."

"What did you two talk about?"

Gazing dimly at Tyler, you snuggle deeper into your arms. Heartache settled into your chest and the emotion was smothering your lungs. You couldn't breathe anymore.

"books."

Jesus, could you be any more monotone? Tyler groaned.

"Yeah no shit, we're in a library hon. What did he say?"

He smiled at me. Fuck, I'm in some deep shit. I actually thought...UGH. Screw it.

"He smiled at me, Tyler. He smiled at me and I lost it."

A lump chokes you up, and you wanted to cry. What chance could you have with him? It felt like an actual romance book, but I guess destiny didn't want it that way, huh? Anger, hurt, swirled inside like a concoction of hot coffee. You needed to let out some steam.

"I'm just gonna go to the back, my shift ends soon anyway."

You slumped up like rag-doll, eyes completely glazed over. Tyler can barely look as you begin trudging.

He calls to you, "OR, we could talk about it!"

You don't answer. Instead, you just walk away from everything, leaving Tyler alone at the front desk.

True to his word, Five did return, but not in the way you expected. It's quite funny, really. Because the second you left, Five showed up.

He smelled of singed metal and smoke. Messy was the only word to describe him. One hand propped a duffel bag to his shoulder and the other carrying two bottles—one a glass scotch bottle, the other, a water bottle.

He didn't need to see Five. He could smell him. Tyler's face scrunched up; he wasn't disgusted, but it wasn't a pleasant smell either.

"Is (Y/n) here?"

Tyler gave a once over and returned to scribbling down book orders. wAIT.

Eyes snapping up to Five, Tyler did a double take.

Sweater-vest? Knee-high socks? That's the little shit.

"Who's askin''?" Tyler with lips pressed in a thin line narrowed his eyes at Private-kid.