in the aftermath of kento nanami's catastrophic fight with cursed spirit, miharu, time stops. the fabric of reality weakens, and anything can happen. as it stands, kento and tabitha have already gone down route a, leading to the slow, devastating ev...
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THERE WAS ABOUT an hour until the reception started (again), and Tabitha was standing outside Kento Nanami's door. Despite imagining her doing this very thing just a day ago while they were dancing, she didn't expect to be in this situation. But today, there was no sexual intent. She was looking for answers, out of pure curiosity. Kento knew something she didn't. Out of all people, it had to be her ex that was going to get her out of here.
She stared up at the room number. Room 101. Kento had been gifted with a room on the ground floor, where the walls were even thinner and he could hear just about every shout coming from the hotel lobby. Tabitha cracked her fingers and sighed. Here goes nothing ... She lifted her fist and knocked on the door.
Kento responded instantly. "Come in," his voice was muffled by the hardwood.
Chewing on her bottom lip, Tabitha turned the handle and walked inside. The room smelled like sandalwood and his typical cologne. His bed was tidy – he always made it in the morning – and his suit jacket was thrown haphazardly on the comforter. The door to the deck was slid open slightly, inviting in the scent of nicotine and salty ocean breeze. Tabitha strode more inside, taking off her heels by the sliding door when they started to burn, and stepped out onto the deck. His view was perfect, overlooking the beach at sunset.
A bottle of his favorite whiskey was placed on a little table, but he was already drinking a glass that rested on the deck railing. Tabitha's bare feet padded over to the railing and she leaned against it, watching him place a cigarette between his lips. He looked only slightly disheveled, with his tie loosened and his shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows. When his eyes met hers, he gestured to the whiskey glass. "Can I get you one?" He asked so casually, as if they weren't ex-lovers in dire circumstances.
"No, thank you," she replied, sitting in one of the chairs by his small table. Her back was rigid though; she was in no mood to relax. "I have a feeling I want to be sober for whatever you're about to tell me."
