Cam's POV:
my eyes land on y/n. she's tossing and turning, which can't possibly be good for her wounded arm. i sigh and start to head upstairs. i keep going upstairs until i reach the top floor. i instinctively find my way to her room, which she pointed out to us a couple of days ago. i look all around her room, which has most of tobys stuff in it. they've been sharing that room since toby insisted she sleep in her own room, and then y/n deciding they should sleep there together. both of them, so stubborn.
i find myself once again at her bookshelf. i've always loved reading, and she's got a decent selection. quite a bit of poetry, i've noticed, but some novels too. while being here though, i've been sneaking some off the shelves. i'm too nervous to ask to take one, since we'd only really just met her. i'd eventually decided to start looking at the poetry and i finally see why she loves it some much. it's such raw, pure emotions in small sections. it's almost soothing to read, especially in a time like this. i pick up a few of those books off the shelf, and run my finger along the spine of the book. you can tell which ones are her favorites. littered on her favorites are dog eared pages, tiny rips on the pages, and beat up covers. one of the books looks like it could just about fall apart with how worn the spine is. i decided this one must be her favorite.
i hold onto the book tightly as i take one last look at her room, and the pictures present on almost every wall. now that i know who she is, it's easy to pick her out. a bright smile on her face in almost every picture, something we have yet to see. i'm fully aware she has smiled at us, of course. we are funny as hell, who wouldn't? but we haven't seen a smile like that one yet. and i can't wait until we do.
i finally head out the door and close it behind me, trotting down the stairs and into the cellar. matt, who was supposed to be watching her, is slouched in the corner, sleeping soundly. i tap his shoulder.
"hey matt. i can watch her if you want to get some rest." his eyes open slowly, and then he looks at her hesitantly.
"are you sure?" he rubs his eyes.
"yeah mate, go get some sleep." he nods and stands. he stares at her for a bit, before heading up the stairs. i bring a folding chair next to the bed she's living in. i set the book in my lap and actually look at the basement.
it had its own bed, couch, and tv. even though the tv doesn't work anymore, it still makes it really homey down here. it was a fairly nice house, so i wasn't exactly surprised by that stuff. what did surprise me was the kitchenette found in the far corner of the basement. i can see how she had lived down here for so long, it was just like a little house. i notice the record player sat on a table almost in the middle of the cellar, and i see her many vinyls say next to it. i play the one currently in there, and take in the music. i turn it down a bit, and return next to her.
with the music playing, i see her visibly relax. it calms my own nerves.
"hey y/n. i know you are sleeping and this is stupid as shit, but i figured i'd read some poetry to you since you like it so much? i think i found your favorite one, oh and you need to take better care of your books. you're a fucking mess." i chuckle and open the book. i start to read.
Your POV:
i'm awoken by the sound of a familiar song. i instantly pick out the album, it's lemon boy by cavetown. at least whoever picked it has good taste. i listen even closer to the lyrics and determine that it's fool. one of my favorite songs. i feel a smile stretch across my lips, and then a smooth accented voice speaks out.
"hey y/n. i know you are sleeping and this is stupid as shit, but i figured i'd read some poetry to you since you like it so much? i think i found your favorite one, oh and you need to take better care of your books. you're a fucking mess." i hear him chuckle and i resist the urge to laugh aloud too. i don't want to ruin this, so instead i stay still and "asleep".
he begins to read, and the velvety sound to his voice almost makes the words sound more poetic. of course, i know exactly what book he's reading out of. and he's right, it is my favorite. the sun and her flowers. i soak in the memorized words of that lovely book, and listen closely to each word.
he does this for quite a while, before he finishes the book. he places his hand on mine and rests like that for a while. he squeezes my hand, and i squeeze back. he reacts, but doesn't let go. i open my eyes and look at him. he smiles, and i smile back.
i'm still so fortunate that such great people broke into my house. i know i haven't known them for a long time, but this is the least alone i've felt in months. maybe years. i do actually care about them, and i can tell they actually care for me. but the thoughts remain. and i still wonder, what will it take for them to stop?
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this one isn't quite a thousand words and i'm sorry but i'm super tired
but i hope this one was better than the last, and i'll catch y'all later 😎
