bleach ➸ cth

chapter four;

Now playing; All This Time by Louis Tomlinson

Getting a drunk Tasha up four flights of stairs at 2 o'clock in the morning is not an experience I'm willing to go through again anytime soon.

When I had finally got her inside, I'd shoved three glasses of water down her throat and she was out like a light once her head hit the pillow. I'd tried to take off some of her make up before hand, but it looks like she's just going to have to suffer the consequences in the morning.

It's around half past two now and I'm dressed in my Scooby Doo pyjamas, make-up off and face washed. Once I'm curled up in bed, I reach down and grab my sketch book and pencil from under my bed.

I've always loved drawing, even from a young age. I was always more creative and free than logical and factual. I loved books about dragons and princesses and preferred running around outside pretending to be a dinosaur than sitting inside doing my homework.

My sketchbook is old and worn; black fabric torn at the corners and faded with time and usage, and the spine is cracked and fragile. Some people think I'm just irresponsible and can't look after it; I think to be loved is to be changed.

I open it up and flick through the pages, sketches of faces and body parts leaping out at me. I find a page with some space left and start doodling, letting my mind run free.

I don't know how long I'm drawing for before I realise I've started sketching a pair of eyes that are a bit too familiar. I stop short, lifting my pencil off the page.

It's Calum's eyes, I realise. Or, as close to Calum's eyes as I can remember. I think I've managed to capture his essence quite well; quiet and thoughtful, a warm gaze lingering on my own.

I promptly shut the book and slide it back under my bed, tossing my pencil into my bedside drawer. Turning off my lamp and setting my alarm, I drift off to sleep with thoughts of blue hair and warm, golden skin.

Surprisingly it's not my alarm that wakes me in the morning, it's Tasha yelling at me from across the hall to turn my alarm off. I don't know how it brought her back from the dead and not me, but she always was the lighter sleeper.

As I come back into the real world, dread sets into my stomach and I let out a groan at the thought of going to work. I'm half tempted to call in sick, but I know we can't afford to, so I begrudgingly haul myself out from under my duvet, smacking my alarm clock as I do.

I make myself a coffee and a slice of toast and sit at our tiny table, looking at the pots of paints still sitting beside the sofa. After my shift today we'll probably start painting, unless Tash has other plans. I don't imagine she will, with the state she was in last night.

I change into a pair of black mom jeans and an old Bon Jovi t-shirt, tying my hair back into two low pigtails. Reluctantly, I grab my apron from the back of my door and stuff it into my tote bag.

"I'm off to work!" I shout as loud as I can whilst peeking my head through Tasha's door, just to annoy her. She responds with a loud groan and I end up with a pillow to the face.

As I'm walking down the road to the cafe, my phone pings and I frown, pulling it out my pocket. When I open it, I see it's from an unknown number.

Unknown Number;
8:56am: Hey Diana! It's me, Crystal. Ashton gave me your number last night, hope that's okay! ❤️

I feel the corner of my mouth tilt up as I add her to my contacts and type out a reply.

Diana
8:56am: Hey Crystal! Yeah that's totally okay :) I had a lot of fun last night!