Something Amiss (Hoodie x Reader)

Prologue: A Glitch in the Matrix

It was an unusually quiet Tuesday morning. For once in his life, your brother Harry didn't need a ride to work, so you had time to actually sit down and enjoy your coffee. Made delicious, just the way you liked it.

The climb out onto the fire escape had been clumsy as all hell. You'd never actually come out here before, but you made it all the same. You silently prayed that none of your neighbours were looking out their windows at that exact moment in time. The Springtime air sent chills along your (s/c) skin, you were still in the old, thin, green and white t-shirt you had worn to bed. Not that you minded, you had always been a cold weather person.

From way up here, you could see the little cafe down the street. Busy as usual, you watched the little coloured specks run around as they tried to both secure their food and get to work on time. The height did, indeed, make you feel mighty. You could hear them, barely. Just the distant chattering of society and traffic. It made you feel removed, a calming thought in the early morning. Mentally procrastinating getting ready for class was just your style. Though you were a good student (very good by some accounts, but you didn't flaunt it), your study habits were simply awful. And you were always high on caffeine and low on sleep, even beyond the normal extent of college kids.

Gentle footsteps sounded from the alley many feet below. A distraction, excellent. Another excuse to stay out in the cool air for just a bit longer. You curiously peeked your head over the railing, struggling to see. Nosy, you knew, but surely whoever was traversing the backstreets of the city at 7am would be in too much of a hurry to look up.

You were wrong. As your eyes found the figure below, you started. In the shadows, you couldn't quite make out a face. You could tell it was a man, tall, wearing something hooded. His head was tilted up, straight up, angled right at you. He stood perfectly still, right underneath you. His hands rested idly in the pockets of his dark jeans. The way the shadows of the alley shifted around him made your skin crawl with more than just the cold.

A beat of silence. You made an involuntary face of 'what the fuck' and yanked your head back after a few agonising seconds of 'eye contact'. You just got the sense he was looking at you. When you thought about it, though, that was jumping to conclusions. Poor dude didn't know some lady with bedhead would ogle him from above.

You rolled your eyes at your own overthinking, clambering back inside. You were gonna be late now, probably. In your usual clumsy manner, you splattered some now lukewarm coffee down your shirt. Brilliant. You tugged the shirt off as soon as you reached your bedroom, flinging it into the depths of the room. Usually, you were quite neat, but this was just one of those mornings. Random alley man had you in a tizzy.

With the usual amount of urgency, you did your morning routine, going through the motions like any other day (albeit with a little peace, with Harry already out of the apartment). Your brother had a tendency to yell-sing, or blast rock, or (god forbid) both at the same time. This morning, though, a saintly friend from his retail job had offered him a ride. You loved the kid with all your heart, but, good riddance. Admittedly Harry wasn't much of a kid anymore, nineteen years old and a gym junkie, but in your eyes he'd always be a bit of a fucking baby.

Teeth and hair brushed, outfit sorted, you were almost out the door on time when you remembered. Today was the dreaded day - laundry day. Groaning, you flung your car keys back on the counter after just picking them up. You stomped your way back down the hall, grabbing a plastic bag and shoving the door of your room open. If only the blasted laundromat wasn't packed in the evenings, you would've been able to buy a bagel before your morning class. You haphazardly piled your dirty clothing into the bag. For a moment, you considered washing the green and white (and now coffee coated) shirt, which was in a sad crumple where it had landed on your desk, but couldn't be assed to go grab it. Ah, well. There was always next week.