Work Text:
"Ghh..."
A pair of eyes, slowly blinking open. Gradually, they adjusted to the warm, bright light that swallowed everything in its vicinity, covered in blur until a hand raised to rub it out. And, what a sight it was once she'd focused—a radiant, shining sun that peeked out from under the horizon. Steadily, it sailed its way up into the watercolor sky, dying everything near it a vibrant, golden orange. Needle took a breath. How beautiful could one sky be?
She always liked the mornings. Mornings were still, quiet, calm. Predictable. No matter how rough a night she'd had, she'd wake up at dawn in the same jumbled-up tiredness as always, until she'd open her eyes to a bright, welcoming day. Then, she'd get up, and let herself feel the silent, cool air of a fresh day. Really live in it. There was something about the routine that just.. comforted her. Maybe it was the familiarity, or maybe it was the—
—Movement, from beside her. Shuffling. A sound, and the tightening of a warm, gentle force pressing against her. Wobblily, it wrapped further around her body, forcing Needle's arms flat against her sides.
Needle couldn't help but jolt and gasp, her head spinning to the source, and right as she began to wriggle away from the hold, she was met with, oh, right.
Book. Upon the realization, she felt her breath hitch in her throat.
Alongside an odd.. fluttery feeling, a nauseating mix of relief and unease flooded her system. Slowly coming to her senses, she narrowed her eyes, and thought. On one hand, at least it wasn't.. some kind of animal. At least it was her friend. Yet, on the other...
..it was Book. She sighed, exasperated. There were absolutely no new colors flourishing across her face.
She wasn't shocked. She wasn't angry, or even confused. There was a clear step-by-step; an easy, evident explanation of how they'd reached this point. Spend the night chatting with Book after the challenge, find a nice place to sleep next to each other, nights are cold, Book gets closer, Book latches on. Simple.
Although, considering the... predicament she'd just been shoved into, maybe she'd change her mind about the lack of anger. And, she really couldn't blame herself for that—for sewing store's sake—she couldn't move!
Groaning and letting her head fall back, she sealed her gaze onto the sky, desperate to steer her thoughts towards anything else. When she thought about where she was trapped at that moment, how she got there, and how it made her feel, her stomach felt funny. Thinking of other things.
...In comparison to what she'd typically be doing, that morning had proven to be massively unproductive. Awake for, what, maybe twenty minutes, and she hadn't done a thing. Usually, she would've been up by then, stretching, taking in the world, relishing in the way the dewy, high grass tickled at her legs, but instead, she'd been strapped to the ground. There went the familiarity of a morning. There went her routine. Nothing else wrong. At all.
Either way, whatever, right? She could... manage. It wasn't the worst place in the world to be stuck. Nature was pretty.
There were two lines of trees that stood further away. On opposite sides from each other, they left a clear, open window to the sunrise. As their leaves waved through the breeze gracefully, Needle tried to let herself smile. That was nice. And, naturally, the sunrise was stunning, too, and... well, the grass was.. warm, and apparently, so was... she... ugh. Why was she so uncomfortably warm?
There was definitely a reasonable explanation. Maybe.. no—obviously just the body heat that she and Book were now mashing together. Book's naturally cold body would be forgotten easily after a full night pressed against Needle—not to mention lying in the direct face of the (still-rising) sun. It was fine. Everything was okay. Needle was not getting warmer with every passing second glued to Book. And, even if she were, that'd be completely normal, because anyone in a position like hers would find it awkward, or maybe even nerve-wracking to be so impossibly close to their friend. That was perfectly fine. Perfectly okay. Perfectly acceptable. Quickly, Needle huffed out a breath, the exhale shoved out through her nose. Completely within the ordinary.
Her whole body felt stiff, rigid. But—of course it did!—Just Book's strong-and-not-weak-grip, she reminded herself. A bead of sweat sped down her back, and there was a fluttering, floating unease that danced around her stomach. Ignoring any unsavory thoughts, she decided that she was just getting sick.
It must've been an eternity and a half there in that spot, she guessed, by the way her clothes had begun to cling to her body, and by the unbearable, all-around itch that prodded at her. However, as her eyes swept back to the sky, she realized that unfortunately, it didn't matter how long it felt. It hadn't been very long at all. The sun had barely moved since the last time she looked at it.
Needle swallowed. Surely, Book had to wake up soon, right?
She bit her lip. How long would soon be..?! Book... honestly, seemed to sleep in, based on what she'd seen, but hopefully, the sewing stores would spare her today, and Book would wake up early. Hopefully.
...Yet, waking Book up herself was always an option...
Needle pried her eyes from their unfocused stare on the bright, blinding sun, and slowly, almost as if looking over too fast would make her shatter, Needle placed her focused, studying eyes onto Book. Obviously, only for completely normal purposes, and to answer completely normal questions, like: was it even worth waking her up? How well was she sleeping? (And, would she think about it this hard for anybody else? That one was discarded much faster.)
Upon seeing Book–really seeing her—fully taking in her sleeping, restful self, and pulling apart each detail in her mind, like, the way her mouth was dropped open, carelessly... she held onto every single one, filing them away into the depths of her memory. It'd be something to think about and smile at, something that'd make her lose her focus, something that'd keep her up at—
—Needle jolted. No!—What?! That was—that was entirely insane of her to be thinking, she reprimanded, suddenly aware of the sickening warmth that'd sprouted in her chest, and the rapid hammering of her heart. Her nose crinkled, face all scrunched up and warm. That was enough of that.
Eyes forced towards the ever-climbing sun once again, her breaths were short, and heavy. It barely looked like anything to her anymore, just a rushed, infuriating blur of red.
Jaw clenched, she pressed her lips into a thin line. That settled it, she thought, inner voice stabbing. Another quick, forced huff followed. Needle was changing her mind.
She would definitely be angry.