Something Amiss (Hoodie x Reader)

Thirty One: Ready Or Not

Thanks to Brian's oh-so-responsible liquor policing, you didn't have half the hangover you wished you did. A little head pounding nausea would certainly take your mind off of the events of last night. You didn't know if you should be hitting yourself for believing what you were told under the influence, or for fucking hugging Brian like a pathetic small child, or both, but you were certainly filled with even more self loathing than before.

In the stark light of the living room window before you, everything you'd been told before you passed out on the couch was newly painted. You could so easily decide now in the clarity of daylight to go on believing what Brian told you with so little proof, sure, but you were smarter than that. Your stubborn nature would have you be skeptical no matter what, and you had a shred of self respect left within you yet.

Demons could be real. The only trouble was, if they weren't, you didn't know where the fuck that left you and Brian. You were awfully aware that if he was lying to you, testing out your Stockholm syndrome, believing him would be your stupidest fuck-up to date.

"Coffee?" Talk of the Devil.

Without turning to face the man as he entered the living room behind you, you nodded sullenly. You couldn't meet his eye right now for multiple reasons - you felt so small, your small moments of complete and foolish trust replaying over and over in your fuzzy memory.

As you listened to Brian's footsteps cross the room toward the kitchen, you called out. "Hey Brian?"

"Mm?" He seemed preoccupied. Since last night he came across as comfortable with you around, far less formal than he'd ever been before. The thought filled you with bittersweet disdain.

You hesitated before you spoke again, lost in thought. "...what day is it?" Your voice came out croaky, and you could hardly bring yourself to care.

"Good morning to you too, (y/n)." You heard him rummage around in the adjacent space, sounding so chipper you wouldn't put it past him to start humming. You groaned slightly, yet you were used to annoying quips of his by now.

Yet the thing was, you truly had no clue what the date was. You remembered the year - you weren't that far gone - and yet even the month slipped your mind. The funny thing was, your phone lay next to you presently, and you'd been checking the time and date since you woke up about an hour ago. Yet every time you looked, you forgot again within a few short minutes. And you were certain you weren't that hungover.

You let the subject drop for now, not feeling like contending with Brian's annoying-ass conversational skills at the moment. Yet your brows knitted as you fought the urge to reach for your phone once more. Surely it wasn't that hard to remember a simple detail like the day.

Try as you might though, the minutes ticked on fruitlessly. Soon enough, a mug being set down on the coffee table before you broke you out of your frustrating loop of thoughts. You waited for Brian's fuzzy figure to retreat back to the kitchen through your peripheral vision before you reached for the warm ceramic.

Brian pulled up a stool at the kitchen counter. You had a sinking feeling he was facing you, observing, but you couldn't be sure with your back to the rest of the room. Minutes ticked by silently as you both drank, with you staring right on ahead at the ugly brick wall through the window before you.

All too soon, Brian's voice broke through the silence once more. "How's your shoulder doing?"

You shrugged, hoping he could, in fact, see. You were too busy thinking about deep shit to particularly care about your wound. That and, you had enough faith in EJ's skills that besides re-dressing it you hadn't really worried about it since you'd arrived here. Which was... how many days ago? You truly couldn't remember.