9:57 A.M
People say there's a moment in the morning.
That split second where everything is okay. When everything bad that's happened is forgotten. That's an amazing thing. Don't you think?
Is there a way I can make that last? Somehow that moment feels like nothing now. Because it's gone. It ended.
Imagine the perfect world. I personally perceive that nanosecond as the perfect world. Now that I juxtapose that split second from now I realize how much it feels like a hoax.
People say it's to give you a break from all that pain. And that you have to savor it. But you can't savor a moment in the past, only dwell on it.
To me, it feels like a malevolent or even possibly vitriolic wisecrack for someone to look down on me because I enjoy that feeling. To even fathom that I could want to be okay for more than just a forgettable second.
Today is the day I shower. I guess I should stop brooding over the impossible. I slowly stand up and walk to my bathroom.
My stomach grumbles and I smile over my newfound appetite. I open the door and flip the knob around the middle. My hand fumble around the hem of the hoodie to pull it over my head. I finally get it off and throw it to the floor.
I take off any residual clothing and step into the shower. I turn the thing down to cold after my body fully warms up to room temperature. I hear cold showers are good for you.
I run the body wash across myself and scratch the shampoo into my hair. It feels so good to just be clean again. I look forward straight-faced.
I squirt the conditioner onto my hands. There is a longing in the heart. For something. Someone. I need something that feels familiar. Something that makes me feel better.
Of course, my brain, as it does, trails off to Atlas. "No," I mutter. I run my hands through my hair and make sure that I get the conditioner in thoroughly. How incompetent do I have to be to think of Atlas?
I crouch down and hold my hands over my eyes. The water cold and soft, I know, but it feels like every droplet is a hundred pounds. Have some self-respect y/n.
My mind quickly washes the thought away as I cleanse myself. It's replaced with a notion I've had in my head for some time now. But the thought itself never took over. It'd only last a second or two. And it was always quiet.
Clay.
I had told him not to fly up. I said it was because it was stupid. Which it is and I'm pathetic for even thinking about backtracking now. But I know he'd make me feel better.
At this point, I don't feel as sad about her death as I'm sad that I've lost all the people that made me who I was.
I turn the knob down to where the water's off. I snatch the towel from the hook it's hanging on. Wrapping it around me I sit down on my shower edge. Now for my least favorite part of bathing.
11:06 A.M
Shaved, hair brushed, laundry in the washer, teeth brushed, breakfast eaten, showered, and I'm back in bed.
I'll stream tomorrow. I will. I'll stick to that. You know what, let me just.
Dweamy Wittle Pissbaby🤡
Make sure I stream
tomorrow
Is that what you think
is best?
Yeah
Okay I'll help you
I smile down at my phone and stare at his message. He doesn't have to help me like this. I just hope he doesn't feel like he is bound to helping me like it's an obligation. I can do this on my own, but him helping is incredibly sweet.
I hear a recognizable jingle as one of my washing machines. I groan and flip my comforter off me. I stand up and whine, knowing how long all this takes.
1:09 P.M
I fling the trash bag over my shoulder. God, it smells gross. I put my phone in my leggings pockets and begin to walk towards my front door.
Once I'm outside, my music stops. I roll my eyes and look down to see I've been added to a call. Oh god, from the looks of it, I've been added to the chaos.
I answer and continue walking towards the bottom of my driveway where my outdoor trash can resides. "Dream really had to call his m-" Sounds like someone from North Carolina.
"Are you outside?" Dream asks me. I open the lid and toss it to the back. "Yes." I dump the bag in. "Why?" He asks again. "I'm taking out my trash as normal people do." I drag the bin up the driveway.
George snorts. "Yeah Dream, do you hire people to take your trash out?" Karl asks him. I set the trash can at the top of my driveway for it to be picked up.
"Y/n, they are bullying me." Dream says. I open my front door and walk-in. "I'm sorry?" I scoff. Karl giggles at my reaction. "They are g- ganging up on me in gang beasts." He tells me.
I walk into my room and slip my shoes off my feet. "What do you want me to do?" Somehow, I already know where this is going. "Stop them?" He asks in a slightly babyish voice.
"Aww Dream needs his mommy!" Sapnap coos.
"Y/n on her mother arc." George laughs.
"When we tell Dream to go cry to his mom he goes to y/n." Karl teases. I roll my eyes and drop my head back. Dream groans in desperation. It's clear he's been dealing with this for a while now. "Now is when I bow out," I say.
"Please! Y/n!" I still don't get what he wants me to do. I sigh and lean back on my couch. "Stop bullying Dream. He's going through a lot, what with his graduation from preschool and all." I say.
George screams and practically congratulates me on my joke. Sapnap laughs and makes it known how much I destroyed him. Karl jumps in his chair. "I came to you for help." Dream says lowly. His tone is deep, but not husky, difficult to hear, but not impossibly so. Sort of intimate.
My focus goes to Dream, not the three screaming children. My cheeks turn a slight pink color. OH MY GOD, NO Y/N STOP.
You can't think like that. It's inappropriate and wrong. Isabelle just died. It's what she'd want, but it still feels wrong. And pushing feelings down is a lot easier than it seems.
I hope.
"Whatever. Fuck you. Leave." He says to me. I smile and look down at my lap. I just really hope he doesn't mean that. "Okay, bye," I say and leave the call so that they can get back to their stream.
I move my arms to the back of my couch and drop my head back. I groan and stare up at my ceiling. "Isabelle..." I sigh. The thought feels as though it runs through my mind at two miles an hour. A single word can cloud my thoughts.
I know we stopped talking soon after the funeral, but I still loved her. Her soft brown eyes or her perfectly straight jet black hair. She always was enviable on an obvious level, until you learned just how horrible her life would be.
Dying before she could drink. Living life as the 'cancer girl' who couldn't do anything for herself. The fragile girl whose brother killed himself. But she held herself up.
Shit, I gotta pack. I whine and begin standing.
5:23 P.M
I sit on my suitcase, completely exasperated. I need to call my mom. I don't think one suitcase will get all my stuff anyways. But I couldn't ask her to fly with me over there. That'd be horrible and impossible to ask.
I'm so fucking out of breath. I lean down and take a strong hold of the zipper again. I begin trying to close the thing. I begin to hum my frustration away with the slow process. I get it around the first corner.
There is an unbelievably loud blaring. I lose my grip and fall from the suitcase. Are you fucking kidding me? "This sucks." I grit my teeth.
I answer the call. "I didn't hurt your feelings, did I?" He asks me. "Huh?" I let out. It's so quiet considering my exhaustion.
"I really shouldn't have said that to you. I'm such an ass. I'm sorry y/n, listen, I didn't mean any of that stuff. I'm so stupid. I'm sorry, I just-"
"Oh, I don't care." He goes quiet. "You don't care that I hate you?" His pitch raises slightly. I roll my eyes and snicker in a low tone. "No, I figured you just wanted me to leave. I bet that was super embarrassing." I smile.
"Yeah..." He sighs. I scratch my ear and look down at my suitcase. I whine and flip to my stomach and lay down. "You okay?" He asks me.
I slap my face a few times and sit up. I stare at the wall in front of me. Fuck. "Suitcase won't close," I say.
He does his best to not laugh. "I'm flying across the country. I don't want to have to do it twice." He scoffs. "There are fees you-"
"Pointless fees that I don't need to pay." I point out. He goes quiet. I wait for him to say something. I continue to try and stuff the clothes down. He clears his throat.
I lift my head from the suitcase itself. I stare at the screen. "Y/n, you know you aren't supposed to make radical changes in your life after something big happens..." He says just loud enough for me to hear. I groan and put my hand back to the zipper.
Don't chastise me. "I was already moving. You know that." I say. I begin trying with the stupid suitcase again. When will I admit defeat?
"Clay?"
"Yeah?"
"I have to pay the fees." He just chuckles and listens to me mewl over my futile attempts at closing a bag. I stand up and look down at the bag. I was going to donate what I couldn't fit so this is probably what's best anyway.
The place is already going to be decorated when I arrive. I paid people to move the furniture I ordered for me. It's a nice house. It's not like millions or anything, but it'll suffice comfortably for me.
"Y/n?" Says Clay. I turn around and look at my phone. I kneel to meet the phone. "What's up?" I smile coyly. I just watch the green circle disappear.
"If you ever need help moving..." I grin broadly. I look down at my two hands. My eyelashes flutter, I don't even tell them to. "No, I'm alright. Thanks. You're sweet." He makes a slight choking noise.