✦—✦—✦
A sleepy groan escaped Elliot as the morning light pressed against his eyelids, urging him awake. His hair was a mess, strands sticking out in different directions as he lazily shifted under the covers. He wasn’t ready to get up yet—not when the bed was still so warm, still so—
Wait.
His eyes cracked open, blurry at first, until his gaze landed on the figure standing near the dresser. His jacket, his signature red and gold, was now draped over them. His cap sat tilted on their head, the familiar starry patterns catching the light.
Elliot blinked once. Then twice.
The sleepiness drained from his face, replaced by a slow, dawning realization. His mouth opened slightly, as if to say something, but no words came out—just a quiet breath as his heart did a weird little thump.
They were wearing his clothes.
His clothes.
A slow heat crept up his face, warming his ears as he propped himself up on one elbow, tousled hair falling into his face. His lips parted, a whisper of disbelief slipping out.
“…Oh.”
The way the jacket hung loosely, sleeves slightly too long, the cap just a little too big—it shouldn’t have hit like this, but it did. It really did.
A hand ran through his messy hair as he let out a breathy chuckle, flopping back onto the pillow. “Damn it…” He muttered under his breath, voice still thick with sleep. His arm draped over his eyes, but the stupid grin forming on his lips gave him away.
How was he supposed to recover from this?
✦—✦—✦