Something Amiss (Hoodie x Reader)

Twenty Eight: Old Married Couple

When the laughter died down, Brian had almost immediately gone back to being carefully blank, jaw clenching as he looked anywhere but at you. A small part of you suspected that he resented you making him laugh. You kept that in mind - that was the first time you could recall laughing with him, and not being laughed at in some way. A genuine expression of happiness, which he quickly put an end to and strode off down the hall, telling you bluntly to sleep. If you weren't more experienced, you would have written the sudden snap back to seriousness off as a mood swing. You knew better, though.

Sleeping had been easier said than done. The couch was comfortable enough, but you kept waking up. After all, you were in the apartment of someone you knew to be an apathetic serial killer. Then again, you weren't much better. And it wasn't like you had been kidnapped, this time. Not quite. And so, you'd got a few hours of shut eye and spent the rest of the time scrolling down internet wormholes on your phone. You were already connected to the WiFi, which was... nice. You resented that Brian knew your password, though. Then again, you didn't expect anything less from him.

There were still questions you wanted answered, and when you awoke for the final time to morning light, you lay there and went over them again and again in your mind. Firstly, you wanted to know if Cass was alive. You doubted it - you weren't game enough to try calling her, in case someone not-so-friendly picked up the phone. Secondly, you wanted to know what came next. When it was safe to leave. Because as nice as it was of the man to come pick you up from death's doorstep, you weren't exactly in comfortable company here. You didn't know where home was anymore, but sleeping in this apartment felt like both intruding and being held hostage all at once. Call this the world's strangest sleepover.

You had other questions, too, that you wanted answers to, ones that Brian probably wouldn't be able to help you with. Like what the actual fuck was up with Lily turning on you seemingly out of nowhere. You wanted to investigate, take another look at Lily's room, see if she left any rhyme or reason behind. All the more incentive to get out of here sooner, rather than later.

The time on your phone read six a.m. when you heard the groaning of pipes somewhere down the hall. You thought your apartment had been bad, but here it genuinely sounded like a demon was being exorcised in the bathroom. You wondered how much Brian paid in rent for this place. At least it was clean, no mysterious stains on the couch. The kitchen was tidy, too, the few times you'd ventured over there for more water.

When the pipes turned off, it wasn't long until you heard footsteps coming down the hall. Accompanied by a voice, though he wasn't in the room yet. You supposed he figured the awful screeching would be a decent enough wake up call.

"(Y/n). You want coffee?" The familiar voice echoed to the living room.

You felt too weird to casually call out an answer, clamming up from where you sat on the couch.

When you didn't answer, Brian stopped at the end of the hall. You turned to glance at him after a silent moment. He was looking at you, eyebrows raised and hidden beneath his wet hair, waiting for an answer. You glanced away, shrugging.

Since that day in your psychology lecture, you couldn't taste coffee without thinking about Jade. Or Brian, for that matter. That would lead to a downward spiral of memories, and inevitable sobbing.

After a moment, he seemed to yield, walking past you on the couch and into the partially obscured kitchen. You went back to staring at your phone, but you were paying more attention to the clattering coming from the adjacent room, unsure what to make of the tense energy. Eventually, Brian resurfaced. In one hand, one of those old fashioned coffee pots. In the other, two empty mugs. He sat down at the island counter, back to you, not even sparing you a glance as he poured himself a coffee. Go figure, it seemed very fitting that the guy wouldn't invest in a coffee machine. Apart from the television, this whole apartment seemed to be stuck back in the 1950s.