Laurence’s POV
Do you ever feel so emotionally exhausted that no matter how much you wish to cry, craving the warm tears to trickle down your cheeks and engulf you in warmth that you desperately need, you just can’t?
Do you ever feel so badly wounded, mentally and physically, that all you want is to hide under the covers of your bed and shield yourself from the daylight forever?
I do. Everyday. 24/7.
Now, don’t get me wrong; I’m not suicidal or anything, but sometimes I just feel like closing my eyes and allowing it to all be over. I don’t want to die; just cease to exist.
It’s even worse when you think of all those around you - alive and breathing so simply - while you’re stuck drowning in the pit of despair you somehow managed to create for yourself. Some days are surprisingly good. I’m standing (just about) and leaving my sty of a bedroom to shuffle downstairs to converse with my friends, but sometimes all it takes is a lightweight grin and I’m falling once more. It’s stupid, how just a laugh or a smile and cause me to make a 180 degree turn and retreat back into myself, but it happens… quite a lot actually.
Take yesterday morning, for example; I woke up feeling a little lighter than I had for the past week or so, meaning I replied to a few fans on twitter, ‘retweeted’ and ‘favourited’ a couple more before heading downstairs for my morning cup of coffee and slice of toast when Kier came down moments after me. He gave me his signature smirk/grin and began to wash up last nights dinner plates. Just like that; the switch turned and I was miserable once more. I’m not entirely sure what goes through my mind when I see smiles - his in particular - but something unfamiliar bubbles inside me; Envy.
Kier isn’t to blame for my unusual mood swings, I’m fully aware of that, but I can’t disagree when I say that when my mind wanders to his perfection and compares it with my own existence, that I don’t feel a little insecure; I can’t help but feel so down - sometimes even ashamed of myself, my body especially.
Kier has been my best friend since we were children, and although we haven’t always been glued to each others sides, I’d always felt this ache while I’m around him. It’s no question that the redhead is proud of his figure, flaunting it off whenever he’s able to but still manages to make it look as modest as humanely possible - It’s an art form, really - and admittedly, sometimes it can get a little overwhelming. The man is the human embodiment of perfection and it’s so difficult to not feel worthless while standing beside him at an award ceremony, on stage, in an interview, at a photoshoot, meeting fans, in Asda, getting petrol, doing the ironing, etc…
I’m so pathetic, it’s actually hilarious.
“What are you looking at, Beveridge?” Kier’s voice brought me from my gaze, my eyes blinking back into focus while I looked up from where I was subconsciously staring at the floor to the man on my mind.
“Oh, nothing.” I replied, voice hoarse from only waking up around twenty minutes ago. “Just tired.”
Kier hummed, giving me the usual look of uncertainty but dropped the conversation anyway and turned back to his laptop.
I inwardly sighed; I need to learn to hide it better.
