Procrastinators on Stage (Chris Kendall/crabstickz fanfic) *unedited*

Part 41- I Don't Like These Imperfections

Carrie continued to chatter aimlessly at me whilst she made her breakfast and I sipped my hot chocolate. All the while, envy consumed and gorged itself on my mind.

I swallowed the last of my drink before gazing to the green digital clock on the microwave over the top of the blue Stitch ears that poked from either side of my mug. The clock read 08:12, signifying that I really should think about leaving my home comforts behind to face my daily horrors. Even the notion made me want to yell violently and rip the hair from my scalp. This day was the most prestigious and important day of my life, and I wasn't happy about it. It was opening night that evening. My heart should have been aflutter, my stomach in knots, my mind a-fog, and my toes curling with anticipation, but instead I felt banal, groggy. My dream felt boring without the people who mattered to me most being at my side.

"Pete was saying that he wants you to autograph his ticket afterwards, your know?" Carrie babbled. "It's a shame the others couldn't make it, though. Lucy's devastated. So's Jimmy."

A month ago, days after my first night of wine and novelty television with Carrie, I had offered each member my old friendship group a free ticket to Wicked as 'my treat'. Only Carrie and her boyfriend Pete had accepted. Jimmy, who was the only person aside from Carrie and Lucy who still spoke to me, was off visiting relatives this week, whilst my brothers and Lucy were busy with university work. All of them were going to make a show later on in the month like my dad. My mum hadn't replied. My old friends hadn't bothered to reply either.

None of this really surprised me but just because it didn't surprise me didn't mean it hurt any less.

My grip tightened around the now empty mug. How was this fair? This was the most important day of my life and instead of being thrilled about it I was hating every fucking aspect of it. I had no friends to share it with, no family either. Why am I such a fuck up? This was all my fault.

I clenched my jaw and clenched my eyes shut too. Carrie was still chatting idly. She kept talking about her relatively new boyfriend so much. She was so lucky. Why couldn't I be that happy? It wasn't fair.

I lifted the mug up a little and watched from afar as it shook in my hands. Suddenly the Stitch mug plummeted onto the countertop and my hands splayed themselves across the shrapnel whilst my ears rang. I glared at what remained of Carrie's favourite mug in the stunned silence Carrie had created.

My hands gripped to the counter like the claws of a gargoyle on a roof lip. Why was the mug smashed? Why had I done that?

"Jamie?" Carrie said slowly.

I turned my eyes onto her and watched her from over my shoulder. Her Disney princess eyes were wider than usual and had a glassy sheen to them much like the gloss of the broken mug shards under my palms.

"A-are you okay?" she squeaked whilst wringing her hands in the hem of her jumper. Her eyes kept swaying from me to the mug repeatedly.

My gut clenched uncomfortably as I dropped my gaze. I took a small step back from the counter and retracted my claws from the counter edge. Miniscule cuts and scrapes were scattered artistically across my fingertips from how I'd forcibly just destroyed my friend's mug for a reason unbeknownst to me. I gently examined my still shaking hands and removed a tiny shard of blue pottery from the heel of my palm. It only hurt a little, I promise.

"Jamie?"

I took another step back and snatched up the rubbish bin which was nestled away under the sink. With a swipe of my arm against the countertop, the ex-mug was swept into the bin. "Sorry," I mumbled as I set the bin back in its place. "I-I'd better get going."

"Okay," Carrie said in a forcibly calm way.

I ducked my head and sped from the kitchen to grab my belongings from the sofa before storming to the front door. Even before I'd pulled my coat on or shouldered my bag properly, my guilt was readying itself to drag me right back into the kitchen to where Carrie was still standing. I shouldn't be angry at Carrie. She'd done nothing wrong. She was perfect.