“You should probably try and sleep,” Chris said to me absent mindedly as we sat on the floor together before the TV at two o’clock on Thursday morning. We were playing the ‘Scott Pilgrim Vs. The World’ video game now and I was enjoying every second of it.
“I bet you’re only saying that because you’re scared I’m going to take your last backup life,” I grumbled as I smashed my fingers on the buttons of my controller repeatedly in the hopes of creating some form of fighting combo.
“What, like the last time you did that?”
I scoffed and tried to whack one of the bad guys over the head with a baseball bat. “Why. Would. I. Ever. Do. That?” I spat with each strike of the bat as the pixelated enemy fizzed out of existence.
Earlier on, probably around half an hour ago, I’d accidentally gotten myself killed in the game, making Chris yell "GODDAMMIT HOW'D YOU DIE? IF YOU FUCKING TAKE MY LAST BACKUP LIFE I WILL END YOU!" at me in an authoritative and dynamic tone. I’d purposely killed my character just to see his reaction after that. He’d told me that he wanted to pour a cup of scolding tea over my head he was that angry, but he only restarted the game after giving me a lecture about not wasting his lives. Since then, I really felt like I’d improved in this game, nay, I’d improved with my gaming skill generally over the time I’d been living with Chris for. I kind of loved that.
“You’ve got work tomorrow,” he continued coolly as if I hadn’t said anything at all.
“So?”
“So, you’ve been working flat out for three days now and you look dead. I don’t think your boss or tutor person will appreciate you collapsing from sleep deprivation tomorrow.”
“I’m absolutely fine.”
“You’ve been yawning since you got in.”
“I’m not tired.”
“Take some sleeping tablets then.”
“I’m fine, I swear.”
“You work full time. You need to sleep.”
“…can we play Scott Pilgrim again soon?”
“You mean when you get home tonight or something? Yeah, okay. Want me to stop playing so you don’t miss anything?”
“Thanks. You should sleep too.”
“Alright.”
Why did such a mundane and boring conversation set my heart aflutter? Anything to do with Chris nowadays reduced me to a heart flailing, tongue tied, mess of a person who could scarcely knit a sentence together coherently around him. It was humiliating and I dreaded to think that anyone would ever find out about it.
Chris switched off the console and gathered up the two empty beer bottles that were resting against the sofa alongside an empty pack of peanut M&Ms that the two of us had shared whilst gaming. The two brown glass bottles clinked together as they swung between Chris’ fingers and he took them out to the small recycling boxes in the kitchen. Whilst he did that, I picked the cushion I’d been sat on up from the floor and briskly brushed off some of the dirt which was on it before setting it down neatly on the sofa. With a stretch of my sore muscles and the groan of a sleep deprived zombie, I stumbled from the lounge in the direction of the hallway to find Chris.
My body felt exhausted, ready to collapse on a feather soft mattress and just pass out until seven. My mind, however, was alert and attentive to any small details that arose in my surroundings, such as how Chris was making a small racket of noise in the bathroom as he got the sleeping pills out from the medicine cabinet.
My flatmate stood before the bathroom sink and filled the two small glasses we kept there with water, then handing me a glass and taking a sleeping pill himself. I too swallowed one of the pills which would potentially calm my mind enough to let me sleep fully for a few hours.
I poured the remnants of my glass down the plughole and set this glass back in its rightful place on the side of the sink. I then looked up at Chris with a weak smile. “Night,” I said as I stepped back towards the doorway, which Chris followed me to as we both moved to part to our separate rooms.
“I’ll probably still be asleep when you leave, so good luck tomorrow,” he told me. ‘Good luck’? He probably means good luck with surviving work. “And g’night.” He lifted one arm up and wrapped it around my shoulders briefly before he retreated through the lounge to his room, the motion lasting less than a second but feeling like a lifetime for me.
With bated and tense breaths, I slowly walked to my own room. It was a simple thing, but that was the first time that Chris and I had had any form of physical contact like that without it having some form of purpose (like how he’d stopped me from falling off the lion statue in Trafalgar Square or how he’d sheltered me from the rain afterwards, which each had a purpose). I’d relished the weight of his arm across my shoulders, my side being pressed to his in comfort. I’d felt conscious of how I’d been so close to just snuggling up against his chest and sleeping against him tonight in a completely non-sexual way. My heart had raced, my guts had squirmed with various crawling insects, and my brain had felt all fuzzy and blank. I’d been able to sense the position of his chin just millimetres away from resting atop my head because I was at perfect chin resting height for him.
How I’d ever been able to sleep after feeling such an intense physical reaction to him was a mystery to me, but nonetheless, I fell asleep with little effort in the lonely frame of my own bed.
When I next awoke, it was at the hands of my alarm. The bad thing about taking those sleeping pills is that they leave me feeling that little bit drowsy and disorientated for at least an hour after waking up, which isn’t exactly ideal when I really need to pay attention to which train I’m getting on in the morning to get to work. It’s also difficult to remind myself that I still need to go to Starbucks each morning to get everyone’s drinks as a form of the payment I was still doing for when I broke those cogs long ago.
So with blurry vision, messy hair, half-assed makeup which I’d probably touch up later, and wearing at least four layers of clothing to combat the British weather, I left my cosy flat and the snoring Chris to go to work.
On my walk to my station, I watched passers-by giving me dirty looks and squinting at the rarely sighted sun which was climbing above the city at this hour. I’d tune out these people by putting my headphones on and playing my music as my backing track instead of the negative comments of these people as they traversed their lives and went to those jobs of theirs which they hated so dearly. These people acted as an obstacle course for me as they made me weave around them like I was slalom skiing to work. It was just like every morning I’d had this week. The overall picture of each day was just as simple and meaningless as the last and it was beginning to bore me.
So far this week, I’d risen early in a daze of sleep deprivation from the previous night to purchase my co-worker’s drinks from Starbucks on the company debit card, worked with Max and her assistant on the final touches of the set and overview of the costumes, music, and tech for the stage, did one hour of singing practice with Liss at lunch, did more work with Max, and then did another three hours of practice before I could leave the theatre eleven hours after I’d entered it that morning at nine am. It was exhausting and draining, but I enjoyed it. It was the tiny differences, the seemingly insignificant details of my day which were different, that kept me going.
But any spare time I had at work was filled with spending extra time on stage under Liss’ supervision and careful guidance. By the evening, I’d always feel exhausted and battered both physically and mentally by the conflicting struggle of mind and body I’d been through in that day. By now, I’d vaguely accepted that I was doing this extra work to get better in my career and therefore have a greater chance of landing my dream role next year. This was of course my decision despite the turmoil and internal struggle that I fought with concern for my jealousy, anger, and competitive streak. I was barely accepting that part of my life but I was still going. Just barely.
“Morning, Janice,” I attempted to say sweetly as I entered the theatre with four 2x2 carry trays of drinks in my arms. The people at Starbucks knew who I was by now and they knew that I’d come in and make the same bulk order every morning. Because of this, they’d helped me to fix together four carry trays to make a reinforced, ultimate tray that I could put all sixteen of the drinks I needed to buy into. It was lucky that the theatre was only just around the corner from a Starbucks so I didn’t have to take the drinks onto the Tube or anything. Why anyone working at the theatre couldn’t stop in at Starbucks in the morning themselves I didn’t know. All I knew was that it was my job to do the drinks errands in the morning and that I looked a right sight balancing so many steaming drinks in my arms.
“Morning,” the receptionist said in an equally forced tone. “My, you’re a little early today!”
Only because I’ve been a late for every other day so far… “I guess so. Coffee?”
Janice pursed her lips in what I’d taken to be her smile and selected the cup with her name on it from my collection with a claw like hand. “Thank you. Did you know that Mary-Anne and Tony are in today? They wanted a herbal tea and a double Espresso.”
“Yeah, I got your message,” I said with a pained expression. I knew that the musical director and director himself were in today to set up and prepare for the Elphaba and Glinda final call backs tomorrow. I’d heard from Max that they were apparently doing final checks for the schedules whilst also sitting in on some of the practice sessions that each group of Elphaba and Glinda girls were doing later today. I wished that I was among them.
“They’re in the meeting room now so you’d better hurry along and give them their drinks first. See you later.” Janice looked away from me and took a sip of her drink whilst scribbling something down on the papers before her. I honestly thought that Janice probably had the most power in this place apart from Tony, and that was only a bit terrifying.
I did as I was instructed and walked off round the back of Janice’s desk to the workers only door which was masked in the wall it was set in by being the same colour as said wall. I pushed this door open and slid into the stairway which led off to every part of the theatre from there. This staircase doubled back on itself with each level of the theatre it went up or down onto, meaning that I’d suffered from feeling dizzy after having ran up or down these stairs on numerous occasions due to the chaotic spinning motion I’d been put through. From here, going down a floor would take you under the stage to where the majority of props were stored, the floor I was on led to behind the stage, the dressing rooms and my old workroom, and the next two floors up were the balcony for the theatre seating and also the set of small office rooms where meetings were held. I still got lost sometimes even now.
With a map of the theatre layout in my head, I began the steady climb up two floors to where the meeting rooms were and where I’d hopefully find Tony and Mary-Anne amongst other important individuals. The halls and stairwells were all painted a similar shade of off-white and each detail of these places, from the handrails to the doors, were black, making me feel like I was in a black and white film with every step I took in these surroundings. Everything smelt crisp and new, much like the wet paint smell which still lingered on the stage two floors below me.
Doors in monochrome colours passed me by as I walked those halls until I came to the one room at the end which seemed to ooze and emit a sense of importance just by having it at the very end of an unreasonably long corridor. I could hear muttered comments and hushed words through the buffer of a door so I proceeded to knock on the black painted wood. I listened tentatively for permission to enter, and eventually heard a clear voice say ‘come in’ after lots of shushing.
The door eased open as I pushed up against it and attempted to climb through the gap between wall and door whilst still carrying that excessively large 4x4 Starbucks drink tray of mine through. I looked around the room as I entered and smiled brightly at the six people there, masking my unease. Not only were Tony and Mary-Anne in here in all of their sublime glory, but Dexter, Max, Liss, and Carrie were also seated around the circular table. This must have been some important meeting if all of these people had been invited.
I set my tray down on the table and started to relieve my tray of six drinks and set those drinks down before each corresponding individual. I could feel the gentle heat of the sun outside falling on my back through the large window panes as I wandered around the room, which only left me feeling unsettled and even more uncomfortable in my work and how I looked. I was eager to leave the room and just continue with my normal work to try and bring back some of that mundane activity that I’d been complaining about earlier. There was something comforting about the ordinary acts of everyday life to me now.
Just as I was gathering up the remaining ten drinks to give out to each of the three Elphaba and Glinda girls as well as one for me, Max’s assistant and the head of special effects, Liss spoke up:
“Oh, Jamie, I’m sorry but I won’t be able to make our practice at lunch. Is that okay? I should still be able to work with you tonight,” she said innocently as she sipped her latte.
My heart twitched a little in surprise as I tried to hide this emotion by forcing a smile at her. Everyone else in the room was looking at me but I just tried to fade them out of my vision like I did when I was on stage with the audience. “It’s fine. I’ll see you then,” I replied stiffly as I backed out of the room and shut the door firmly behind me after balancing the tray in one hand.
As I speed walked back along the corridor and the stairs to get to the other drinks owners, my heart began to beat threateningly fast in my chest, causing my breathing to hasten and my thoughts to become irrational. I hadn’t wanted Dexter, Tony and Mary-Anne to know about my extra work. They’d think that I was desperate (which I was, but I had to hide it anyway) and that I was only working here to manipulate and take advantage of the people here (which I wasn’t, so I had to make that noticeable). As much as it disheartened me to think that they could think of me in that way, my only vague hope of an equally vague saviour would be if Liss or Carrie stood up for me and explained how I only wanted to improve. If it was something I was being offered as an extra for my job, then of course I was thrilled to do it. I wasn’t doing anything wrong in doing that, was I?
As if I need more stupid questions to answer, I grumbled to myself as I started to descend down the spiral network of stairs to the stage floor, ready to meet the actresses who I could only dream of becoming. Today was bound to be just as long and boring as the last in essence.
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A/N: Hello peoples *waves*
I know that this update could be considered a filler but there are some aspects of it which I think are important to the story line. Plus, I wanted to include some more Chamie moments :3
Even if I feel like I keep on going on about it, I want to ask everyone to go and watch Emma Blackery's new music video for one of her new songs 'Perfect'. For one, I adore Emma as both a musical artist, YouTuber, and as a person so I'd like to direct you guys over there for that purpose, but I also kind of want to mention how a drawing I did is featured in the top right of the screen at 1:56 or so. Quite a lot of you probably won't care, but it's a big thing for me and I wanted to share this with you all...
I'm also trying my hardest to write as much as I can for this story at the moment as I'd love to have it completed by early in the New Year, especially as I've been writing this story since last December and been thinking about the story line since last November (happy birthday POS!)
Please comment and vote if you do so please :)
*salutes*
Em >^-^<