Earth Can't Hold Us All

Hinge's POV: More Than Two Pearls

June 2nd, 2080
There's a knock on my bedroom door, several actually. My vision is unfocused, and my brain hurts of confusion. As I slowly sit up in my bed, trying to shake off the morning haze, memories of yesterday flow fast into my recognition. I had gulped too much Grit, and had an episode of losing control of my body from an overdose.

"Hinge??" the person who's knocking on my door shouts. "You awake yet?"

"Yeah, I'm awake now," I shout back, rubbing my eyelids. "Is that you, Clem?"

"Yep, it's me. Can I come in?" she asks, even though she's already opening the door.

I sigh and fall back down on my bed. I glance at the clock, it's late in the morning. Getting too close to the time I have to leave for work.

"I came to walk you to work today," Clementine says, sitting down on my bed. "When I heard about what happened yesterday, I freaked out with worry." She sets her hand on top of mine.

"I feel like crap," I grumble.

"Yeah, but honestly that's your own fault," Clementine shoots me a sharp look. "Look, you aren't just damaging yourself when you overdose, you're also damaging everyone else around you."

"I don't want to hear your nagging lecture right now," I moan, getting up off my bed.

"I am not lecturing you, Hinge! I am sick and tired of constantly worrying about you! Even when we weren't dating, I would still think about you and how dangerous this addiction is for you!"

"Just shut up, Clem." I fumble with pulling my jeans on.

"What??" Clem's face looks repulsed.

"Nothing," I try to take it back. My stomach drops a bit as she stands up, her finger twirling a strand of her white blonde hair. Her blue eyes sharp.

"Why don't you listen to me? Why don't you listen to anyone?" She asks quietly, her face an inch from mine. "It's almost like you don't want to get better."

"I can't get better," I whisper, meeting her piercing eyes with mine.

"If you let people help you, you would be able to."

"And if I don't want help from other people?"

"Then you simply don't want to get better, you prideful, stubborn bastard," she says. Then I grab her shoulders and pull her closer to erase that inch gap between us. Our lips press hard together, but she pulls away with an even more disgusted look on her face. To kiss her was my choice, not ours.

"Seriously, Hinge. Really is a great time for a romantic kiss," Clementine shouts in a heated tone. "Maybe we should throw rose peddles all over your bed and have some wine. Ugh. You're such an idiot."

And with that all said, she stomps out of my room and slams the door shut. I sit on the floor for a minute, waiting for her to cool down. I can hear her rummaging through our cupboards for something to eat. After I pull on my high-tops and red knitted sweater, I peak out the door at Clementine. She's munching on a piece of bread, playing around with the random scrap strings of yarn that lay all around the floor. My grandfather likes to decorate every single thing and place in our apartment with yarn. A lot of people assume he's crazy, and the people who love him make excuses for his craziness. I always say that he simply loves the cozy atmosphere yarn gives when everything in the house is knitted. And Grandpa's friends say that he loves to knit so much that he decided to knit everything in his home.

"Hey, Clem," I say in a low-key tone, as I sit down next to her on the couch. "Are you...chill right now?"

"If you mean chill as in 'had time to think about things', then yes, I'm chill."