daybreak | sal fisher x fem!reader

1. petrichor

"the kind of blue that makes you ache."

—

Sticky wood against your skin, the hard pressure of the surface beneath your face. The unrhythmic pulsing of the migraine that pressed at the sides of your skull—like phantom palms, relentlessly squeezing your brain.

You slowly sat up, rubbing the sleep from your eyes before squinting as you adjusted to the dimness of the room. The noon sun filtered through the windows and cast its golden warmth over every surface. Its comfort found its way over your face, and you breathed in slowly.

You could see the dust particles floating through the air. The sunshine opened out its rays over the beige carpet. You crawled from the dinner table, laid on the soft floor, and allowed yourself to bathe in the welcoming heat.

Your fingers absentmindedly began to play with the looped fibers beneath you as you stared up at the dull ceiling and thought. Today you and your mother had awoken at an unearthly hour of the morning to start your travels to a town called Nockfell.

You'd arrived hours later. At the moment, your mother, who was named Michelle, was out at her new job—a supervisor position at a bank, or something. She'd also worked at a bank in your old town but was promoted to another location and that was the reason for the move.

You had the apartment to yourself. It wasn't much better than your last flat—equally as unsettling as the last.

Your body jerked and you murmured a frustrated curse as the resoundingly impressive knocking of your door frightened you into an upright position. You scrambled onto your feet, the heated carpet warming your soles.

After you'd approached the door, you turned the doorknob and pulled it open as far as the safety chain would allow. You then settled your weight on your right foot and leaned toward the opening. The cool, dead air of the hallway breezed your face.

A boy, with long brown hair and dark eyes. Seemed to be around your age, and taller than you. He was tanned. You assumed it was genetic, as your mother informed you the weather in Nockfell was almost always droll and depressing.

You had to incline your chin upward an inch to meet the brunette's eyes.

A person stood behind him, with eye-catching blue hair that wisped past their ears and brushed their shoulders. Matching eyes, a bit lighter than their cerulean hair. The only thing about this person that seemed a bit jarring was the mask they wore. They were smaller than the boy beside him, and you were able to look them right in the eyes.

You weren't any type to judge off of appearances, so you didn't spend much time staring.

"Hello," you press a shoulder against the door, awkwardly fidgeting. "I'm- do you.."

Before you can painfully struggle for something to say, the tallest boy resolves your conflict. "Hi," he grins easily. "I'm Larry, and this is Sal. He and I had the idea to swing by and welcome you to Addison's.."

He trails off, noticing your disheveled state and tired eyes. You were conscious enough to recognize his hesitation and quickly rubbed the sleep from your eyes. "Oh. Oh. Sorry- I know I look so bad right now.." You quickly passed a hand through your hair and licked your lips. "I was laying on the floor when you knocked."

Why did you say that? You've made yourself out to be a real weirdo, haven't you, Y/N?

"Larry", glances over at his friend "Sal" amusedly, almost like he knew something you didn't. His eyes then revert to you. He opens his mouth to speak, but his blue-haired friend beats him to it.