Hate | Love

Feverish (Part 1)

(Chapter 7 Part 1/2 of the Novel)

***

It was a restless night.

Tharn kept on tossing and turning in his bed. The image of Type's scared and panicky face kept on flashing in his head. He slept and woke up intermittently. Wakefulness not really giving him respite and sleep not really giving him rest.

"Get away from me ... I'd rather die..." Type's voice was playing in a loop, like a jammed iPod on repeat.

As daylight slowly brightened the room; transforming the dark gray shadows into bright patches of sunlit spaces, Tharn found himself looking at the ceiling. His thoughts still replaying the events of the night before, his mind still gloomy as if dawn has never really arrived; and everything was dark and bleak.

"Why should I care so much," Tharn mussed to himself. He could remember the look on Type's face. It was conflicted. There was fear, panic, anxiety but his eyes were screaming at Tharn, murderous as if he was capable of killing him right there and then.

But he did not. Instead, in brief moments, he clung to Tharn. And Tharn was confused. What was running inside Type's head that time.

He felt for his jaw. It was still a bit sore from the sudden punch that Type threw at him.

"Get away from me..." again the voice screamed in his head and. It was almost audible that Tharn had to glance sideways towards where Type was still huddled in his bed.

He was peaceful in sleep. Gone were the lines of tension that lines his face, gone was the hate, gone was the fright; at least in slumber.

"I should get dressed," Tharn muttered, his eyes back to the blank expanse of the ceiling above him, one arm behind his head. "He doesn't deserve the sleepless night I just had thinking about what the hell is wrong with him."

But the clock continued its digital tick tock until it burst into alarm. The blaring sound did not have a chance to ring long. Tharn had his hand on it to silence it once more. An inanimate object that could only keep its incessant tick tock tick tock, reminding Tharn that school was about to start.

He sighed. Pushed himself off his bed, haphazardly made up the covers and grabbed at the towel and his toiletries before going straight to the bathroom. He chanced a quick glance at Type, whose body was still inert in sleep.

As the hot water cascaded on Tharn's sleep deprived body, his eyes stinking from lack of rest, thoughts continued to course through his mind. Conflicting thoughts that made him stay under the shower longer than he should have.

"He's a brat," a part of his mind said, "He has not done anything to you except curse, throw hate and have kicked and punched you in the last 24 hours." It continued. "Something is wrong with him, and that frightened look on his face and the crying had to come from somewhere," came to reply from somewhere else in his mind.

"No!," Tharn swore, forced himself out of the cascade of water that has since gone cold. Dried his body and dressed for school.

He didn't want to think about Type further. Forcing himself to not even glance at the sleeping figure, he stormed out and closed the door.

He did not even get to the main door of the dormitory before he convinced himself that he left something in the room. A notebook perhaps.

"I'm not going back to see if he is alright," Tharn was telling himself, "I just need to get my notebook. It's not for him. Never for him."

He opened the door to the room, his eyes going straight to the still slumbering roommate, his legs going towards the direction of Type's bed.

"Is he alright?" Tharn thought.

"Get away from me..." the voice screamed in his head again.

And Tharn stopped his approach. Went the opposite direction and sat on his bed; his eyes lingering on the still figure that was deathly quiet.

"Why isn't he moving," Tharn thought aloud, "He must be okay, right?"

The digital clock continued to click.

7:30...

7:40...

7:50...

Still, Type was unmoving.

Tharn was about to be late. He wouldn't even have time to grab a bite to eat and he'd still be late for his 8:15 class. That is, if he left soon... like, right at that very instant.

"Type..." Tharn tentatively spoke, his voice unsure.

There was silence and there was no movement from the figure on the other bed.

"Type!" Tharn stood up, his voice much louder, if only he could get a response. Even an angry yell would be better than that unmoving silence. "Type is almost 8 in the morning!" Tharn called out again, as he took a step nearer.

"Mmmmm..."

A mumble. Soft and soaked with sleep but a response nonetheless. Tharn heaved a sigh of relief. Type was okay.

"Why should I care if he was okay, "Tharn whispered to himself, "Because I'm a decent human being and I know that he is hurting somewhere in the head of his otherwise he wouldn't have been that terrified." He answered back.

"Type wake up," Tharn said once more, "You're late. I'm not waking you up because I want too. It's just because I'm a good guy," he added.

"Mmmmm"

"C'mon, you're going to be late!"

"SHUT UP!" Type yelled, grabbing his blanket and covering his head. "Just, go away!"

Tharn looked at the figure on the bed. Shook his head. He felt his heart break a little. He was absolutely sure Type abhorred him. So he just walked away, closing the door to their room as the sound of Type's phone rang.

RRRIINNNGGG

The jarring sound of the mobile was like a drill that dug into Type's consciousness. It magnified the throbbing in his head and he knew that if it didn't stop soon, his head would explode.

Under the covers, his hands felt heavy and sluggish as he felt around for the phone. Finally finding it near his ears. He peered through sleep-laden eyes to see who it was.

Techno.

"Hello," Type croaked, his voice hoarse.

"Dude," his friend's voice was too loud. It was making his head feel as if it was trapped between a vise and the screw was turning tighter. "I'm already in school and was wondering where you were. Classes starts soon and I am fucking hungry. Where are you? Should we meet at the cafeteria?" Techno rambled, his voice enthusiastic and hyperactive as always but it seemed as if it was coming from somewhere else. Type could barely move his body. His muscles felt atrophied and he was feeling cold.

"Shut up," he mumbled, if only to silence the rambling voice from the other end of the line. It had the absolute opposite effect.

"Hey Ai'Type," Techno cried out in exasperation, "Where are you? Are you still in bed? Get up and come on, we are so going to be late."

"Ai'No!" Type snapped, a little louder, the strain sending jolts of pain running across his skull. "Shut up, I have a headache!"

"What? Are you sick? Are you coming to school? Are you skipping classes?"

"I'm going back to sleep," Type groaned. "My head is killing me."

"Hey, are you all right?" Techno sounded concerned, "Do you need me to go there or are you just skipping class?"

"I'll be alright," Type replied in exasperation, Techno was making his headache all the more painful, "I'm just going back to sleep." And he ended the call and closed his eyes. The day's brightness even filtered by the blanket that he used to cover his face, made his eyes throb. It felt so cold, he wanted to go back to the warmth of slumber; though he somehow knew that sleep would not be safe, there were shadows lurking among the avenues of his memory that were somehow opened.

...to be continued...