Time Limit - f.h

11 | 7 Stages

XANTARA
•1963•

A warm light filtered through the frail, cheap nylon curtains, appearing in lines over the carpet as it fought through the blinds. They clattered against each other, their wooden exterior creating calming music that the Beatles posters danced to.

I woke up with my arms tucked under and around another warm body, his head flopped completely on mine. I struggled to move, stealthily wriggling down the bed slowly as so not to wake him while avoiding treading on my hair.

"You're finally awake,"

I was stuck in an odd yoga position as he spoke into the silence. "Thank God," I whispered and moved freely to sit cross legged in front of him. "Good morning," I dragged out, smiling at the creased sleep surrounding his eyes.

Five ruffled his loose hair and leaned against the headboard, grinning at the innocence and slight jump in my simple movements. It was pure, for the seconds before it turned remorseful.

I bowed my head and internally groaned, "I know, I know. Don't worry, it's only..." I checked my bedside clock, "7:00 exactly,"

I wouldn't admit it, but was extremely uneasy for the day ahead. I was one of the only ones in the world that knew today would be a turning point: JFK was going to be assassinated and my own actions could determine the probability of doomsday (as I was told to call it). But I refused to show it because I knew the feeling was mutual.

Anyways, if I became a supervillain in the midst of all, it wouldn't be the worst thing. I even have two dead parents so I tick all the boxes.

The shuffle of sheets pried my eyes away from the clock and back to Five as he got up from the bed. "You've definitely got enough time to kiss me, right?"

It almost looked normal as Five slouched over to me, smiling in his crinkled white vest, his hair stuck up unevenly and hand wiping his dark eyes. He leant forward and kissed me, his hand carefully holding mine, even as he parted and kissed my forehead. "Good morning," he whispered before turning away to get ready.

I sat on the opposite side of the bed and swapped into a matching green checked skirt and blazer, sliding a white top on underneath. As I fixed my belt, I saw Five pause at the door. I started to move towards him and reached for his hand, looking as he stared ahead blankly.

He suddenly swivelled and grabbed both my hands, "Things are going to get crazy..."

The pause made me think that he wanted me to reply, "Okay w-"

"I can't guarantee that everything will run smoothly and we're dealing with a murdering, lying, manipulating, sociopath. I just don't want it to make you think of me any differently,"

"Why would I-" but I decided against it. His face was tired and cautious, a face that I knew would only get more stressed with more questions. Exactly why his siblings saw the worst side of him.

I smiled at his distressed look, ran my hand up and down his arm, "Just do what you have to do, okay?" and pecked his cheek.

He sighed once more, looked at the clock and then swung open the door, heading straight for the refrigerator.

I stayed back for a second and looked around my room once more. Posters stuck onto the walls without frames, various empty glasses, a record player with the lid open and the needle halfway through a Chuck Berry vinyl.

Normal.

Though, as soon as I moved into the kitchen, everything was far from normal.

Luther was stretching on the spot as he watched Five guzzle a whole container of ice cold water, repeating his name in question. He gasped for air and slammed the fridge door shut, hastily going to load baby powder down his shirt. I watched and stuttered as he did so, knowing that we didn't have baby powder anywhere in this house yesterday, and marvelling at the fact that it was now sat conveniently on my kitchen table.