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

3

I stare at my ceiling as I lay in bed, too lazy to sit up or move. I woke up at sunrise, and for an hour now I have just laid here and stared. It is insanely quiet, no noise aside from my steady breathing and the ticking of a clock somewhere in my house. I'm refreshed and awake, but I just really donnot want to get up and greet the day.

I almost forgot I practically had a stranger sleeping in the room across from me. Why did I invite him again? He came into my thoughts after a while of me just laying here and thinking. I had so many questions.

Why did he have such a mysterious vibe? Why did he seem to have an idea about what's happening with the disappearances? Why was I so compelled to be around him?

He doesn't seem bad, and I trust my intuition with that. I sigh, turning over to lay on my side, moving for the first time in an hour. The clock on my bed stand blinks 7:30 a.m. "I should get up already," I mumble to myself. I raise up with a groan, irritated with the fact I have to exist like this.

I swiftly get dressed, throwing on jeans and a sweater, and left my room. I pause, staring at the door to the guest bedroom. I wonder if he is awake like me, or does he sleep late? Should I peek? Would that be rude? He is in my house, though. It may still be creepy nonetheless.

I sigh, shaking my head. I inch over to the door, silently opening it just a bit to look inside. Tim was still in bed and it seemed like he was sleeping still. Seeing him sleeping felt weird, like I am doing something scandalous.

He was sleeping fine, likely to stay in bed for another hour or so, which would be fine. I just stand there peeking at him for a minute or so, simply just curious. I can't help but think that he looks kind of pretty when he sleeps. His hair is on the longer side and looks soft, and he looks so at peace it give him a completely different vibe.

Deciding I've looked for long enough, I back up and gently close the door. I head down stairs, wondering what I should do. Would cooking breakfast be a good thing? What would he even like? I have absolutely no idea. I hope he isn't picky.

I spend the next few minutes cooking breakfast. I fry some bacon and sausage, scramble eggs, make cheesy grits, and a few small sized pancakes. As I'm finishing up, Tim comes downstairs, seeing me in the kitchen. "So you can cook?" He remarks, looking at the breakfast I've been working on.

"Of course I can cook," I mumble, putting food on plates. I go to check a cabinet closer to Tim than I thought, leaving me practically pressed up against him as I look. I feel him place his hand on my waist as he guides me a bit further away from him so he can move past me and be out of my way. My breath hitches for a second in response.

I grab the plates and set them at the table, then grabbing utensils and glasses to set respectively with the plates. Tim doesn't waste time sitting down and starting to eat. It does smell pretty good, so I can't blame him. I sit down and start to eat as well.

"Thank you," He spoke as he set down his utensils. I wasn't quite sure what he was saying it to, and I assume my confusion was visible to him as well. "For letting me stay the night," he cleared his throat. "My family from here is gone, and all I have are crappy, creepy hotel rooms to stay in."

"Oh, well, it's fine. You didn't murder me in my sleep or anything, so yeah, it's completely fine." He chuckled a bit at my words. "If you're ever in town and would prefer a home rather a motel, just let me know, alright?" I smiled, hoping my kindness didn't seem like a bit much.

"That's good to know. I'll definitely take you up on that offer." He nodded before going back to eating. I decide I shouldn't pry about his family, but his mention of them earlier did make me curious.

After a while, we finished our plates, and Tim offered to help clean them. He did the bulk of the washing, as he insisted to do, while I simply laid them on the rack to dry. I can't say I dislike not having to clean the dishes for once.

It was nice and peaceful.

That's when the ringing in my ears started. A severe, sharp ringing that felt like it was turning me deaf. I stumble back, holding onto my head, trying to cover my ears. Covering them did nothing. It's like the noise was coming from inside my brain.

I could faintly hear Tim asking me what was wrong as he tried to hold me up, worried and confused about what was happening. I was unable to respond back. Soon, I was unconscious.