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//dedicated to softlings for dying and crying waiting for an update//

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Andrea

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Saturday and Sunday morning were spent the same. I was curled into my bed, the covers drawn over my head and I was watching stupid videos on YouTube with my phone. Then my mum would come and ask if I wanted lunch, dinner or a snack. That was one of the only times I would force myself to get up and do something. Food was vital for survival- it had to be taken in.

Sunday morning I told my mum I had the worst headache ever and a major cough. All false lines tumbling out of my mouth but I didn't care. I knew it was going to school on Monday, the following day and truth to be told, I couldn't go to school yet and face Jon without rethinking everything.

And I mean everything.

Jon was with someone Friday night, when he asked me to stay up and wait for him. I couldn't help but think he brought Marie on purpose; maybe to tell me to stop being so clingy? I don't know. But then I'd have an irking thought and think to myself that what Jon and I had, he needed it as much as I did. It was our coping mechanism. During the day, we were something, an object to please the society order. He was the Cool thing, and I wasn't. But the night, we closed the curtains and made sure the night was ours and ours only. 

Some nights we'd spent talking all day and get no sleep in. Some, little less talking and more sleeping. No Type A, but more of Type B. Nonetheless, we made the night ours. So let me be, when I'm in denial and think Jon didn't mean to sleep with Marie and ditch me.

The Saturday and Sunday nights were a complete different story. I did everything I could to not stay still. I cleaned my room, paced around the room, re-ordered my pencils and pens, ripped out a few pages from my book, wrote a few notes clashing with dialogue. I did everything to keep myself busy and I stayed the hell away from the window.

When I knew my mum would come in I'd jump in bed and put a hand over my head. 

"Still hurting love?" My mum asked Sunday night.

I nodded, fluttering my eyelids close. "Yeah, it's killing me slowly." I said, my voice coming out grouchy and rough. I felt the end of my bed dip low and I slowly open my eyes to see a concerned mum looking at me carefully.

"You've been stuck in your room the whole weekend. I think you need to see a doctor with this headache."

I started shaking my head frantically. "No doctors! I'm really fine. Just give me a cough syrup or something."

My mum let out a sigh, the wrinkles around her eyes creasing tightly. Her soft brown eyes stared back at me with disbelief and with a soft pat on my leg, she left the room.

I dropped my head back on the pillow, my arm covering my eyes until I was seeing nothing but total darkness. And then my mind took me to one night I spent with Jon.

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One night in the past.

"Do you ever think, that one day, the differences around us will ever be forgotten and everyone will for once see things the same?"

I curled my fingers around Jon's, my head softly resting on his broad chest. The feel of his fingers running through my hair eased me, filling me with this feeling of full content and desire. I dropped our interlinked hands on his hard chest and slowly lifted my head up to look him in the eye.

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