𝘛𝘏𝘌 𝘌𝘔𝘗𝘛𝘠 𝘗𝘈𝘙𝘛𝘚 𝘖𝘍 𝘔𝘌 - HOZIER

XIII

THIRTEEN.

The ride to Pittsburgh was quiet, and uneventful, as every member on the bus caught up on sleep while the driver transported them through the wide highways under the starlit sky. The band wasn't awake until the late morning, rolling from their cramped bunks and pooling into the bathrooms and common areas.

Vivienne was one of the first on her feet, unable to rest as long as she wished, as the rocking of the bus knocked her into her shelf and startled her out of sleep. After a few moments of confusion as to why she had subjected herself to the 2 foot tall bunks in the first place, she decided it would do her best to have a quiet morning to recover from the hectic day before. She fumbled for her glasses and book, pushed her covers into the corner with the plushies already pressed to the wall, and pulled back her curtain.

She squinted at the sudden light, muttering a 'good morning' to Ivy who laid across from her with her curtain already open, phone in hand and a small smile on her face as she waved in response. Vivienne pulled her slippers from by her bed, sliding her feet into the plush material and standing up with her arms stretched by her head. She wiped her eyes from beneath the frame of her glasses while she shuffled down the hallway and towards the common area as she thumbed through the pages for her worn bookmark.

"Mornin', kid." Ciarán murmured, his accent weaved with a sour tone that Vivienne could only assume was from bad sleep as well.

"Morning." She replied, taking a seat at one of the booths and shuffling towards the window. "You're aware i'm barely 5 years younger than you, right?"

"I know."

"So what's with the nickname?" She pushed the spine of her book into the table and pulled open the pages, eyes already scanning for where she ended off.

"It just fits ya," Ciarán shrugged, pouring a cup of hot tea into a plain blue mug. He dropped a pinch of sugar into the drink, then waltzed over to Vivienne's table, mug in one hand, and a paper plate with two microwaved breakfast sandwiches in the other. "Stop thinking too hard about everything."

"I think it's one of my best traits," Vivienne replied sarcastically. "What's life without crippling anxiety and overthinking?"

"Nothing, it seems," Ciarán smirked as he took a sip from his mug, smacking his lips together in distaste. "Christ. We need some good tea on here."

"What about that isn't good?" Vivienne questioned, propping one elbow onto the table and resting her chin in her hand. Ciarán extended his mug with raised brows to gesture for Vivienne to take a sip of her own, which she considered for a moment before leaning in. The second the drink touched her tongue, she pulled back with a grimace. "Damn. That's complete fuckin' trash."

"Exactly," Ciarán chuckled breathily at her reaction. Their laughter was cut short by the sound of the hallway door sliding open, then quickly slamming closed. Vivienne had barely caught a glimpse of loose brown curls before the wood had concealed them again. "The hell is his problem?"