Zelda pulled into the male’s driveway, her eyes heavy and weak feeling. It probably wasn’t the smartest thing for her to be driving with as exhausted as she was, but she’d made it without fault and was now sitting in his driveway staring at herself in the mirror. Sleep wasn’t Zelda’s friend right now, no matter how tired she was it continued to slip from beneath her just as she started to get comfortable enough to feel as though she were floating under her covers. She’d been surviving on catnaps and coffee for the past few days, even missing class because she just couldn’t be bothered.
None of it mattered though, she could tell something was wrong with Mik, the tone of his texts was off and she immediately disregarded any kind of selfishness on her own behalf to make sure he was going to be okay. She inhaled a deep breath, pushing herself to get out the car and walked to the door, knocking on it. After a moment she pushed the door open slowly.
“Mik?” she called out slowly, her eyes darting around the empty space, catching a glimpse of the painting he’d done of her, leaning against the far wall and it made her smile. She moved throughout the house, hearing the faint sound of rushing water and made her way towards it. Steam flowed from behind the door as she opened it “Mik” she said stepping into the bathroom, she leaned back sitting against the edge of the counter and looked at the shower.
Everything feels very heavy today. From the moment Remik had woken up today, he’s had it settled on his chest, thick and suffocating and constricting his lungs fiercely; he doesn’t know what to do with it, how to deal with it, where to put it. All he knows is that he needs something, anything, but even exerting the energy required to get that something, anything is too much now that he’s not moving anymore. He stands in the shower with his cheek resting against the wet tiles of the wall, the normally clear glass that encases the space long since having fogged over. He rubs the tips of his fingers together absently, the wrinkles on them a testament to the amount of time he’s been standing here. His knees are locked, muscles tight despite the near scalding temperature of the water, tense from working out too much, and tense from being stood here.
Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knows that he should do something. He knows that he should move, get out, dry off, get dressed, take something. Take something to make him feel better. His body is getting ill on top of his mind, escalating at an alarming rate from the lack of everything that he’s usually got settling his insides, but it seems...wrong. All of the things about him that usually seem right are wrong right now, and it makes him want to cry, a little. Or maybe it’s just the complete lack of anything that makes him feel like crying. How numb he is. How little he’s compelled to function, even at regular levels.
Hearing Zelda enter is a bit like a crack in the glass that’s surrounding him, thicker than the walls of the shower. Her voice spiderwebs through his mind, and he turns his head a little bit, drawing in a wet breath of humidity and steam. Yeah. He’s supposed to be ready right now, for sure. They’re supposed to go out together. That’ll make things better...right? “Yes.” He says, like it’s supposed to communicate something. Then, after a long pause: “yes, I am in here. Not much longer.” He sounds terribly numb, even to himself. He still doesn’t reach to turn the water off. Not yet.
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