I woke up late.
As a result of my weird compassionate episode where I tried to calm down Alex by talking to him, I missed my morning run and my rooftop escapade. I glanced over at his bed. The sheets were in disarray, but he wasn't there. For the first time in the few weeks that I'd been his roommate, he woke before I did.
I put on a pair of jeans and my sneakers and went outside for a walk to wake myself up before classes. I didn't have an appetite after yesterday's group therapy session.
Down a deserted corridor, not far from where I met Tristan, I saw Alex. His eyes were bloodshot, dark bags that I'd barely ever noticed accentuating his pale colored eyes, dark hair tousled in every direction, and a weary stance. He brought his shaky fingers, though better than yesterday's, up to his pale lips.
A cigarette. I scowled in distaste.
"Save me the lecture, Gracie." I looked up at Alex, who had noticed me for the first time that morning. "I know what it does to me." He puffed out a cloud of toxic smoke. "I just don't care."
I took a sharp turn heading towards a different corridor, but not before catching a whisper of thanks directed to me being carried down the echoing halls.
"Forget about it." Was my own reply back. Because that was a one time thing. I don't feel. Emotions are dead inside me. At least that's what I tell myself.
Alex has so many hidden away. That's why he falls apart.
That's why I fall apart.