Persephone
Flash after flash rebounds against my one open eye as my finger slams down against the shutter of my camera. Taking a break before I set up for the next shot, I rub my tired, aching eyes, completely and utterly drained. With today being the team's first media day, I've been run off my feet taking photos and getting interviews. It's definitely not the worst job to have, but today, my lovely brain decided it was the perfect time to get my weekly migraine, one which has been hanging around since I first got to work. With it nearing four o'clock, I'm more than ready to go home, and sink into a hot, lavender scented bath.
Adjusting my camera, I squint into the viewfinder and begin to take more photos. I try to compress my dizziness at the players whizz past me, trying my best to capture the best possible photos that I can.
I finished up with the players headshots, team photos, and personal interviews just over an hour ago, with my job criteria now demanding me to take action shots of their practice. Like I said, not worst job to have, but with my head thudding from behind my eyes, the last thing I feel like doing is watching a group of men race around an ice rink at high speed.
I don't know if it's mild hallucinations or simply my wishing, but before I know it, the guys have finished their training session. I drop my camera, blinking a few times to make sure I'm not dreaming. My line of sight travels from the bustling rink to the large, industrial door that encloses the staircase leading to the admin section of offices, my chest thumping with relief as I see my manager, Valentina walking towards it with haste. Taking a step back from the edge of the rink, I turn my camera off, and replace the lens with its large cap. I let the heavy weight of the device hang off of my neck as I too head towards the stair, a boost of energy going straight to my seemingly swollen brain at the thought of 'home'.
I really am a homebody. If there was only one person in the world that could claim that title, I'm sure I'd be in the running for first prize. In my mind, nothing, absolutely nothing can compare to being in my own home, where I know where things are, and I know how things work. When I can be myself, inside and out, and live exactly how I feel like living. That's why, in college, I always felt a little out of place. Although I loved living with Mel, our room didn't feel like home to me. I had to either go out to the dining hall or actually leave campus to eat a proper meal, and I had to leave my room to use the bathroom. Everything felt so discombobulated and impersonal, the exact opposite of my current home.
Soon enough, my feet find themselves perched on the topmost stair, and I make a right turn, pushing my way into the large, glass bound office building a few second later. Valentina, who's rifling through a pile of papers looks up, relief flashing over her face as she breathes out deeply.
"I really hate to do this Pers, but do you mind staying back for an hour or so to transfer over some photos? Liz was supposed to, but she had to go and pick her son up from school because her ex husband if off... somewhere," Valentine waves her hands around in the air, picking up a stray piece of paper and shoving it into my hands. "and I would stay, but I have to go to this recital thing my kids are doing . It's just, we're supposed to start working on the articles first thing Monday morning, and I'd hate to run behind schedule, so I thought because I didn't think you probably wouldn't be doing anything, you'd be able to cover it. You'll get payed overtime, so don't worry about being too scared to ask."
Look, I'm not a particularly mathematical person, but even I can work out that my ideologies of a perfect night = crushed. But, through that backhanded compliment (of sorts), I can't exactly just outright refuse the work. I mean, it is sort of my job.
Regardless of my inner loathing of the work ahead of me, I plastered on my best smile, pushing the slowly worsening migraine to the back of my head as I address Valentine.
"Yes, of course. I'd be happy to." Even more relieved than when she first begun speaking to me, Valentine lets out another deep breath, flashing me a smile.
"Oh, thanks so much love. Well, I'd better be off, but I'll see you on Monday, have a good weekend!" Without another word, Valentine brushes past me and towards the door quickly. I stay still where I am, squeezing my eyes shut.
Why.
Sometimes, the why is the only thing you can ask. Why why why why why.
Opening my eyes, I pull my camera off of my neck, laying it on the empty space of my desk. I sink into the desk chair, laying my head against the cool, flat surface in front of me.
One minute of self pity. That's all I'm allowing today. That's all I can afford to allow.
...
Why.
That's all I can think as I scull the last of my scalding hot tea, my burning, tired eyes struggling to stay alert. I finally turn off my laptop, stuffing it into my bag with my eyes closed. I've been here for just under two hours now, finalizing photos and stuff, and in that time, my killer headache has only progressed to the point where I fully believe it could literally kill me. Not even joking.
Taking another deep breath, I rise from my swivel chair, squeezing my eyes together tightly as a wave of nausea runs through my body. I've been lucky in the past few weeks. My headaches have usually hit me while I'm at home, meaning I've been able to function at work without too many hiccups. Until today, that is.
I pick my bag up from my desk, clutching my temple in an attempt to soothe my sputtering mind. Through a haze of half-blurred vision, I make my way towards the stairwell door, already cursing the absolute agony of a journey I know this will become.
The stairwell is dark, quiet and eerily gloomy, and if I wasn't seconds from falling asleep on my feet, I'd probably be paranoid about murderers. But right now, I barely have the ability to think, let alone act like I'm on an episode of Criminal Minds. I don't think there's many other people in this building apart from a few coaching staff or potentially the odd physio, so it's not like I expected my escape route to be packed like a rager, but it just seems... odd for this place to be quiet in the first place. I've never really been here after hours, and I guess my experience is showing in its most vulnerable stage, the thought process.
I clutch the handrail beside me tighter as another dose of nausea overwhelms me, and a second later, without another thought, I slump myself down on the step I'm standing on, laying my head in my hands. Usually, if I give myself a second to breathe and rest, my symptoms subside just enough so that I can function, or in this case, get down a flight of stairs.
My mind goes blank as my eyes fall closed, the relief of the darkness an instant comfort. Right now, even as I sit here on a freezing cold, probably germ-ridden slab of concrete, it feels almost as comfortable and generously pleasing as lying in a warm, fluffy bed. Like floating on a cloud almost.
As a side note, I've always found it comically amusing how our brains are wired. Like how when we're aching for something so much, for example a comfortable surface to sleep on, basically anything feels like a relief. Or when we're freezing cold, the thinnest of layers feels like the best thing ever, compared to a raging wind or thundering sky. Honestly, since my concussion, I almost feel as if my brain has been rewired a little. Especially now, seeing as I'm still getting migraines like this. As sad as it may sound, it almost feels like I lost a pivotal part of my personality that day. The epitome of my fun side, the carefree side even. Like a part of me had left, a part that was poisoned with the bruising. It could have just be growing up, and realizing that things aren't going to be all la-di-da forever. Things are going to change, things are going to happen, things that no one can control. But, if I think about it, at times like now, it seems a little sad. A lot has changed since I was first concussed, and I do miss the part of me that didn't stress as much. The part of me that wasn't anxious about potentially bailing on friends because of a migraine, or worrying that the alcohol I'm entitled to as an adult will make me feel loopier than normal. Even though I feel like a prehistoric dinosaur some days, I still feel like a little kid, at times. Persephone can't stay out past her bedtime. Persephone can't drink anything but warm tea and a couple of gallons of water a day, to prevent inconvenience. Persephone can't go out tonight, she's not feeling well. Persephone never has a date to anything, because who would want to deal with this?
I groan into my hands, my inner spiel doing nothing to help the pounding going on in another chamber of my complex mind, though I don't bother to condense the frightful sound. I don't care who or who doesn't hear, and honestly, whoever does can just go fuck themselves-
A loud creak cuts through my self-loathing, my eyes flying open. Oh for fucks sake, please don't tell me I summoned the ghost of the stairwell by pretending like I didn't care about who was-
"Are you okay?"
A voice floats from somewhere above my head, frightening me. My heart thuds against my chest, my throat growing tight and clammy, my mind running a million miles per second.
"Sorry, I don't mean to intrude, you just... look like you're not okay. Are you okay?" the deep voice continues, an echo bouncing off of the cold walls. Footsteps flood dangerously close to my ear, and figuring I can't escape this situation for much longer, I turn my head, my mouth almost falling open.
Okay, now I think I really must be dreaming.
I look up, Max Morin's ridiculously handsome figure wavering in a closer-by-the-second proximity to myself. His lips are set into a soft frown, his jawline somehow accentuated by the slowly disappearing light. When I don't reply to his overarching question, he leans himself against the stairs railing, his eyes softening as they fix themselves on mine.
There's comfort in his expression, and emotion I haven't seen portrayed in such a way before. The glint in his eye triggers something inside of me, making me feel at ease, somehow.
It only takes for him to slide down the wall until he's sitting, his body facing mine, for the floodgates to open, and for every last emotion filled thought to race from my mind and out into the open.
A/n
hello everyone
oop cliffhanger lolz ⛰
thanks to everyone for reading today's latest chapter!
as i'm on a 2 week break from school (celebrating rn) i'm hoping to update most days, so hopefully stay tuned for a few updates over the weeks 😎🤞
lots of love, and i'll see you all soooon,
em, xx