Trying To Endure

Chapter Eleven

Quick, religious references. You can skim through them.

Please be respectful and mature and ignore them if you are a nonbeliever or are not fond of it. 

Thank you :)

🌺

April Levesque

Aashvi ran after Cami, was there for her, and never considered to check up on me. The former caused me to question her character, and it has done nothing but scar my mind with constant overthinking. 

To make matters worse, I sent a couple of of messages — the occasional, hey, hru. How it used to be. She aired my messages. It's abnormal, and she repeated it for days. It didn't take me long to find out she baffingly blocked me on socal media. I confronted her regarding it. 

She opened my chats and left me on read. I asked her again the second time, more toughly this time, and she was surprised at the tone and simply said, 'Fuck off.'

Oh, okay.

Fine.

I removed her number. Deleted all of our pictures together. All of our memories. The decisions brought tears to my eyes, because a friendship that last for roughly six years suddenly came to an end.

Ethan went out to be with some friends. Mum is at work, and Nanga is at Nana's house. I would go there, but I want to be alone for the whole day. 

I sniff, tossing onto my back and wiping my eyes, then groan as more threatens to surge in sync with the constant overthinking. I haul upright on the bed, and after a while, call Tanner. I wanted to talk to someone, to rant, to be listened to.

He answered, "What do you want?"

"Hello to you too."

He clicked on the video call. The screen revealed the familiar flamboyant ceiling of his room, marked by beautiful carvings and designs, the background a flutter of shuffling. I have never been to his house. He rarely comes to mine. He used to help me with Psychology and practically tutored me for free. Smart young man.

"Are you free to talk?" I ask, hearing a slight crack in my voice.

"Yes. I just finished studying for the Psychology exam." He sighs. "Tell me why I have to learn about fucking Freud again."

"Sons love their mothers because of their breasts," I summarise, not entirely answering his question. "And girls have penis envy."

"I don't understand the point of his existence," he mutters. "Nor why we have to learn theories of a bunch of middle-aged, white men. One of the reasons why the education system is so fucked up. Anyway, enough of that. What do you want to talk about?"

"Aasvhi and Camila."

A pause. Then the camera whips to his curious face, his hair veiled in a bonnet. His surprise is shrieking. "I see ... Is this tea? Gossiping?"

"More like bitching."

He must have heard the slight tremble in my voice. "My cup of tea, baby. Hang on. Let me get my Airpods for that eargasm." 

He swiftly searches his room, grumbling where they are. 

He leaves his room, opening a door to another one. "Have you seen my Airpods?"

Silence. 

Then, "Can you stop barging into my fucking room and knock, for fuck's sake," snaps a voice. Derek.