She is a fever, longing still

chapter 1

( 1449 words :) note: this is the best translation i found (for the song)💀
anyway ayo???? enjoy🤭 (other note: read this book AFTER Atelophobia otherwise you won't understand you dip shits, it won't be worth it and it'll be your fault, I WARNED YOU)

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I don't remember exactly what happened. I have no clear memory of what I did after that Saturday. Did I cry or smile first? I genuinely have no idea.

I was in my apartment. I was actually thinking about her. Does it really surprise anyone here? Of course not. I had my arms crossed on my desk, staring at my wall. At the pictures of us—of her—that I didn't find the courage to avoid looking at. I think I was thinking about how beautiful she is. Or something like it. Once again, to exactly no one's surprise.

I was waiting for a call from my parents. It's hard to explain how my relationship with my parents was after her. I avoided them. I apprehended their calls and even ignored them for days—sometimes weeks—and later apologized and told them I had a lot of work.

They always called me to ask me how I was. That question made me so angry at first. Then, the anger quieted down. Because they don't mean to make me feel worse, they just care. They would ask me about the therapy sessions, about the medication, they would ask me if I ate, what I ate, if I drank my water, if I had any trouble sleeping. And I would lie. I would tell them I'm doing good. That things were going well. That the medication helped a lot, that I didn't miss her as much as I used to.

Well, they knew I was lying when I said that. Because I avoided talking about her with them. They knew it was still the same for me.

I looked away from the pictures and sighed. I looked down at the open book under my arms. A tear fell on it. I didn't even realize. I didn't even feel it. I thought to myself that it might have been because I always felt like crying. Maybe that was why I never felt it when I actually was.

I looked at my bookmark. My heart restricted in my chest. Her beautiful face. That gorgeous smile she only had with me. I hid my face in my hands, wiping the tears away and trying to cool my head down. Do I have a fever, I thought. Almost. Love should be considered some sort of sickness. An infection.

My phone rang and I breathed for three seconds before picking it up.

I cleared my throat. "Hello?"

Nothing. Nothing? Was this my parent's number?

I heard a sound coming from the other end. Like the phone fell from the person's hand. "Hello?" No response. I hung up. I threw my phone on the desk and ran my fingers through my hair.

"Ethen?"

I became rigid. I freezed in place. What. Was. That. My therapist had never mentioned hearing voices as a side effect of that stupid medication. Maybe I just imagined it. It was such a littl-

"Leave me alone!!" she yelled. She. She. I threw my arms over the phone and brought it to my ear as fast as I could.

"Hello??"

Another silence. And at this point, I almost got up to go take a serious look at myself in the mirror and reflect on my behavior and if it meant anything serious. If I should get professional help. And I mean more than a therapist. More than an anti-depressants prescription. Something like the mental hospital.

Until. "Ethen?"

My heart started beating in and out of my chest. I felt like my body was moving and moving without a single break, like I was convulsing in my seat.

"Andrea?"

I heard a little giggle. Holy fucking shit I was about to pass out. What was going on? I knew that giggle. I knew whose giggle it was. I had heard it many times. I used to be rewarded with it when I made a bad joke, when I was confused about something, when I kissed her face for too long at once, when I said something nerdy or when she tripped and fell in my arms or even when she read. I knew that sound by heart. And I knew it was a genuine giggle at first, until it slowly became a sob. And she was crying.