𝙒𝙃𝘼𝙏 𝘼 𝙁𝙍𝙀𝘼𝙆

12

𝑻𝑯𝑼𝑹𝑺𝑫𝑨𝒀
˚ · • . ° .

The noise of the water bottle constantly landing on the creaky wood was driving me insane.

I had given Eddie one of my water bottles that I had packed in my bag, and he took about two sips, then started to flip it, over and over. He told me that his goal was for it to land right side up five times in a row, which he had not successfully done yet, clearly.

I'm laying down, next to the boat. The sun is in my eyes, partially blinding me, while the brunette lays on the opposite side.

I hear the crinkle of the plastic water bottle falling, and I think I'm actually going insane.

I suddenly sit up, "If you flip that thing one more time!"

He's silent when he looks over at me, surprised. He turns his head back to where it was, removing his eyes from me and facing the ceiling this time.

I lay back down, also facing the ceiling.

It's silent for a long time. No plastic water bottles, no talking, not even the sound of the other person breathing. Everything is still and silent.

Minutes pass by, and my gaze at the wooden ceiling above me starts to get lazy. I'm so bored and tired. I silently yawn.

"What's your favorite color?" I hear his voice interrupt the silence from across the room.

I'm taken aback, confused about the sudden, random question. "What?" I quietly reply.

"Might as well get to know each other if we're both gonna be wanted for murder soon." he explains.

It's silent for a minute or two, because I'm not sure if he's trying to make a sick joke out of this and embarrass me or not. If I remember correctly, Eddie Munson hates me, I should be the last person he wants to get to know.

I hear him sigh and shuffle, giving up on attempting to make conversation.

"Lavender." I quietly say, secretly hoping that he heard me. I look over at him, expecting a reaction.

Right then, he flips over to face me, his face static.

He just stares at me, so I continue to talk softly, "Sage green is nice too."

Once again, he doesn't say anything else, he doesn't even respond to my answers, instead he just holds eye contact.

"Let me guess," I begin, tapping a finger on my chin, as if I'm trying to think, "your favorite colors are black and red." I look off into the distant water.

I say this, recalling the night I witnessed his room, everything black, and the only visible color being a dark red.

"Spot on." he finally says something, causing me to look at him again. His smile grows bigger as he speaks.

"It was a shot in the dark." I sarcastically say, and he scoffs at my remark.

"I have a question," I speak, "Would you rather never play guitar again or never play DND again?"

"You're actually making me think on this one, Wheeler." his voice is light, and he stares off somewhere, thinking.

"DND," he finally makes a decision, "I don't think I could ever give up my guitar." he explains.

After a couple of questions about favorite things and what we prefer, Eddie asks a more personal question, "Are you close with your parents?"

I open my mouth, but quickly hesitate, not sure how to answer this. He blankly stares at me, waiting for an answer.