Chainsmokers | Masky x Reader / Tim Wright x Reader | RE WRITE

2

"Would you like a drink?" I ask Tim, setting my things on the chair before I head into the kitchen. I'm not sure why I invited him in, but I did.

"Oh, just some water." I take note, getting a glass of water for him and some tea for myself. I bring our drinks back to the living room, where he sat on my couch. I place his water on the table close to him.

"Here you go." I smile and then take a seat, sipping on my tea. I'm not sure what to do now. I did not plan this course of action at all. Tim looks around, likely judging my home.

"You seem well off here," he mumbles and I chuckle nervously. "What do you work as?" He then asks. I'm almost hesitant to answer for some reason.

"I'm a P.I. It does pay pretty well, huh?" I shrug, glancing to my office. "Even more so now. With the kids going missing, people are trusting me more than the police. I give more answers, they hear." I go quiet. There's a solemn mood in the air.

"I can't give them answers though. I get what I think is close, then I lose it. Then the kids turn up dead. In playgrounds. In parks. The families still give me some money, which I can't stand to take, but I need food, and I need the funds to keep trying.

"I want to fix this. I can't stand this." I look at Tim, who has an almost depressed look on his face. I'm sure mine doesn't look much happier. He sighs, running a hand through his hair. It stays quiet for a few minutes after that.

The silence is broken when Tim speaks up. "Do you ever think you're getting too far involved in something you shouldn't?" The question makes sense, but I hardly have an answer. I shrug, smiling softly as I stare at my tea.

"I don't think about that. Maybe I am getting too involved, but I don't care. I want these families to stop suffering like they are. I want to give them answers and comfort. I want to prevent more victims and provide more survivors," I answer, not looking up as I speak. "Plus, I have some personal reasons why I'm getting so involved in this. It is just as much for me as it is for them." I look up and shrug.

Tim doesn't have a response, and the mood is somewhat awkward and sad now. I stand, setting my drink down on the table. I start walking towards the kitchen, and then stop. "I have a guest room you can stay in for the night. It's too late by now to leave, given how it is around here now," I pause, chewing on the inside of my cheek.

I turn around to face him as I continue. "You don't have to stay, of course, but ... it'd be nice if you did?" I smile at him. Tim laughs softly, nodding.

"I think I might just," he smiles. I nod, turning on my heels and continuing to the kitchen. Again, I'm not sure why I did that. This man is a stranger.

Something tells me he is closer to me than I think though. I want to know him, and I want to know why I get that feeling from him. It's curious.

After a while, it gets around time to sleep. I've been hanging around with Tim for most of the time, though we haven't talked too much. We've really only just watched the TV and idly chat about whatever is showing. Pretty bland, I'll say.

The clock on the table says it was almost midnight when I yawn. "Are you tired?" Tim asks, looking over at me. I shrug. "Somewhat."

I get up, gesturing for him to get up as well. "I'm gonna go to bed, since I have work to do tomorrow. I'll show you where the guest room is," I tell him as he gets up. He nods. "Show the way."

I walk down the hallway upstairs with him following. I stop at a room across from my bedroom and open the door. Inside the room was a simple bedroom. A bed, dresser, mirror. Basic things.

"The bathroom is down the hall, the last door on the right." I point it out to him and he nods. I go in the guest room, looking through some certain things to make sure everything is okay, while Tim just sits on the bed.

"The bed is pretty soft," he mumbles. I hear him behind me and laugh.

"Sometimes I think I made the guest room more comfortable than my own," I laugh, turning to look at him while leaning on the dresser. Seeing him on the bed, I think about how he actually is rather attractive. I hadn't paid too much attention to that until now. He laughs, shaking his head as he feels the bed. "My bed is stiffer than that one. I even come in here to sleep if I feel like my bed just isn't good enough for the night."

He looks at me with a slight smirk on his face. "Shouldn't you switch the beds then?" I stare blankly.

"I never thought of that..." I quietly mumble, earning laughter from Tim. "You say you're a private investigator, but I feel like that right there makes it seem unlikely," he teases, making my face turn red.

"Look, I'm not dumb! I just, uh.." I huff, crossing my arms with a pout. He laughs at me, getting up and walking to me. "Sure, says the one who didn't realize she could just switch her beds."

He's rather close to me now. I roll my eyes and look away from him. "I still make more money than you I bet," I mumble, trying to find some way to jest back. He chuckles. It sounds rather nice. My face feels hotter now.

"Maybe you do, doll," he laughs, turning away. Doll? Really? Why the pet names all of the sudden?

"If you need anything, I'm a light sleeper so just knock on my door. Goodnight," I smile at him as I leave the room, and I catch him returning the smile as he nods. I leave him be and go to my own room.

I'm actually not that tired, but the migraine I have is killing me. I'd rather sleep it off than stay up and suffer. In my room, I start getting undressed to change into some night clothes.

The migraine was so bad it made me weak.

I try laying in bed for a while to fall asleep. I'm not sure if I've being here for only ten minutes or an hour, but either way I'm not falling asleep anytime soon. With a sigh, I sat up and run a hand through my hair.

"Maybe some water will help," I mumble, getting up and going to the kitchen. I grab a bottle of ibuprofen to take and a glass. My grip on the glass was too weak, it fell and shatter on the floor beside my feet. "Fuck."

While trying to pick up the glass, I notice Tim coming downstairs. He must have heard the glass shatter. "Oh shit," he rushes over. "What happened?"

I sigh. "I just dropped a glass, that's all. I guess I didn't have a good enough grip on it," I shrug, continuing to pick up the shards. Tim starts to help, but I don't have the energy to make him not.

Hands full of shards, I try to stand up. A wave of dizziness hits me and I drop the shards to grab on the counter so I don't fall, stumbling on my feet. "Are you okay?" Tim asks with worry in his voice, quickly getting up to help me.

"I.. I'm fine. It's just a bad migraine. I'm used to these," I wave him off, feeling steady enough to stand now. "It's that bad?" He seems almost shocked. I just shrug. I'm not wrong when I say I'm used to them.

"Yeah. I am used to them though. I had them when younger, but they stopped so I thought they were done. They came back once I started working on the disappearances," I explain before just taking the ibuprofen dry. He sighs, kneeling back down to pick up the glass.

"I'll clean up the glass, don't worry. Just go to bed and try to sleep it off," he tells me, as if it's not ill-mannered to make you guest clean up your own messes. "But-" "You're too sick, right? You just nearly fell, so just go to bed. It's fine." He cut me off before I can object. I just sigh and say, "Fine."

I go back upstairs and get back in bed. Soon enough, I thankfully fall into a dreamless sleep.