fuck buddies don't act like this (Gojo x Reader)

Chapter 74

Pain as fierce as the raging storm flitters about inside your mind banging and colliding into all your thoughts and making them curdle together in a fit of frustration. There's no escape, no amount of tossing and turning nor scrunching your face up into many knots can subside the inexplicable pain gnawing through your brain. You've had migraines before but nothing quite like this one, this is as someone has brutally screwed your scalp off and began churning your brain into butter only realising halfway through that it became soiled.

But it's not just the pain that has you beaten down, after this morning Gojo had to leave early for work and you had some time to kill before your own day kickstarted off. What was once a lovely, but brief forty-minute nap has turned into an excruciating two-hour assault of being slammed into every crevice of your mind without reprieve.

The drilling of your phone startles you awake by the thunderous beats of your heart rattling off a sequence straight out from an opera house only the noise makes your eardrums weep and bleed in visceral pain as they are forcibly pulled apart. Your jaw grows tight, and teeth grind into dust as both snot and saliva hisses out from your bared teeth like a deranged rabid dog. The pain is travelling from your temple down into your forehead, congealing in your sinuses as your phone continues to ring.

Your world seems to shake blurrily, lashes crusted together hinder most of your vision as you aimlessly slap at your bedside table for the bastard that is seizing its opportunity to crush you. Breathing deeply in hopes to lessen the blow as a thousand bullets ping and bounce off within your skull before dribbling out of your bloody nose.

Bloody nose?

Pricking your finger at your nose and lip you find it moist not just from the snot but wet and slippery and only when you bring it above your head, sure enough you find deep crimson polishing your fingertips. Well, that is a new development and sorely unmissable as you finally get a hold of the damn thing and flip it open to find it's from the gallery.

Shit.

"Good afternoon, L/n-san we are just wondering when you are planning to deliver your pieces, I believe that we have an appointment for today but if you are unable to make it then we can get it delivered by the end of this week." The co-ordinator briskly greets you despite their tone feeling as if glass shards have scraped down your back.

"N-no," Hearing your mouth click as a lard lump of snot dribbles down your throat. "No, I'm coming in. I'll be there in half an hour." Your voice sounds rough and dry.

"Good. We'll see you then." They hang up.

Tears stream as you massage your eyes open to their full extent the crust turns into dust and a loose eyelash prick at your eyeball forcing you up and out of bed. It's as if you had drunk most of the day away and tumbled into bed without anything to eat and now you feel as groggy as someone who's not had a wink of sleep.

Feeling and looking like the dead is starting to become a reoccurring theme in your daily routine as you try to wake the remaining life force keeping you steady and plug your nostrils for the time being. You need to shower it's been a few days and your sweat clings to you like men's aftershave, constantly apparent and obnoxiously strong.

But you just told them you will be there in half an hour.

Before all this you would have managed to simply have a quick shower and be out of here within fifteen minutes but now the thought of stripping yourself bare and getting all cold to become hot and wet feels like a struggle and a half. Since last year you've enjoyed your leisurely time in the shower so much so that your water bill is suffering because of it, and you don't trust yourself to scrub your hair in the sink, shampoo and shit dexterity is a terrible combination.