@ohwhatfun liked for a starter.
THERE ARE MANY PLACES THAT WES GIBBINS IMAGINED BEING AT WHEN THE CLOCK STRUCK FOUR-FIFTY IN THE MORNING , but michaela pratt’s apartment wasn’t one of them . ( even if he did , to some extent , expect it , given the fact that the series of events that happened lately have brought them closer , it was still unusual . ) he’s surrounded by papers , outlines , marker pens and some books that he hasn’t even touched , much less read through . with the corner of his eye , he can see the hunched positions of the other keating students , hear michaela and laurel mutter something amongst themselves and asher snoring with his head angled awkwardly against michaela’s shoulder . ( wes finds that an ounce of him envies asher and his capacity to sleep wherever , whenever . ) a sound resembling a groan escapes his lips as he shifts , arms stretching above his head before reaching out and grasping CONNOR’S coffee mug ; downing the liquid in less than five seconds .
he doesn’t even bother to lift his shoulders for more than a half-hearted shrug , fingers instantly returning to the scattered pages in front of him . ❛ i’ll get you another once michaela grants me access to the kitchen again . ❜
neat, tidy notes in perfect handwriting, highlighters && various other stationary strew across the table && books stacked up carefully by his side may have served their purpose in creating the illusion that connor was making any progress that night ----- yet he was fighting off exhaustion just the same as the rest. it was an odd little moment to be shared: anybody looking at them from the outside would be led to believe that these people were five friends, perfectly at ease with each other. fortunately, they didn’t know the truth. he’s weary ; struggling to maintain focus on the task at hand && long past giving up on trying to remember why he’d ever thought this was a good idea. he’s groggy enough that he doesn’t detect the soft movements on the sofa beside him until the mug was already in wes's hand && there was little point in fighting for it. besides, the joke was on him ; the liquid within it was COLD && abandoned. in all honestly, he’d forgotten it was even there in the first place, so it’s not a very big deal.
❛ whatever, ❜ as he spoke, his gaze had traveled across the room && he was eyeing asher, rather than wes. for a moment, connor genuinely considered taking a leaf out of the idiot’s book. the only thing holding him back from resting his eyes for a while was that ridiculous, persistent voice in the back of his head reminding him that, really, he ought to be showing these people up. ❛ but you’re on coffee-dutyfor the rest of the night now. ❜
2087
romaincrisis
turnnoffyourmind
titsay
theartofmadeline
