Hey there, lovely readers. Title of the fic is from the song Desolate by Woe, Is Me. (Good song, btw.) Hopefully please enjoy and review because they make me happy. :D
A smile crept across my lips as I spotted a jet black head of hair among the crowd of students, and I quickly pushed my way through the clumps of teenagers excited for the weekend ahead of them. My grin grew as I strode closer to him, his messy hair rustling in soft twirls as the breeze let it flow through its airy fingers. His thumbs skillfully hooked into his pockets as he leaned his back against the wall, observing the rushes of yellow, purple, red, and blue among the crowds with a plain face. The collar of his blue polo was popped lazily, his shirt had creases and wasn't tucked in all the way from what was visible under his dark gray sweatshirt. Our eyes met briefly, and I smiled softly before lightly waving my fingers, feeling the cool pre-winter breeze rush through them. He was still until he forced a doubtedly convincing smile, pushing himself away from the wall to meet me halfway. He weaved through some straggling students, and as he got closer, I couldn't help but notice the dark shadows under his eyes and the unkept look that the surface of his skin held. My brows furrowed as he began to walk with me, not saying a word.
"Hey." I spoke softly to him.
"Hi." A faint smirk adorned his face, but it was blatantly forced.
"How are you?" I asked hesitantly, letting my hand hang between us until he grabbed it, intertwining our fingers and making the tips of them tingle.
"I'm okay." He replied, swinging our hands between us playfully, trying to show me that he was fine. It alluded in his eyes that he wasn't, but it he quickly put up his wall and the look disappeared.
"You can tell me, you know." I remind him, and he nodded thoughtfully.
"I know." He teased my palm with his fingers while we luxed down the steps. He sighed. "But I won't bore you with all the details of my mental illness." He said smartly while casting a look in my direction, his gaze lingering.
"I did score an internship at the Toronto Tribune, I practically live for details." I teased, watching him chuckle as I spotted his dimple.
"It's not the same thing." He substituted.
"Enlighten me?" I challenged, and he rolled his eyes.
"You, my lady, are stubborn." He admitted heartily, earning a look from me. "If you must know, I am currently going through a low swing." I nodded, expecting an answer such as that, as it related to his depression disorder.
"And what does a low swing entail?" I asked him curiously. He shrugged vaguely, glancing the other way. I accepted his answer and didn't prod any farther.
We approached his newly-purchased car, an old-fashioned, sleek, light gray car that had a fresh coat of paint on it as of last weekend. He let go of my hand to get the passenger side door for me, smirking lightly when I climbed in and he did soon after. He didn't move to start the car and we sat in silence until he spoke quietly. "Low swings are like being in a bad mood. Except, being bipolar, it's more extreme than that in a lot of ways." He twiddled his thumbs while gripping the steering wheel softly. "You feel unusually sad, worthless, angry, unloved, etcetera etcetera." He explained, and I frowned, scooting closer to him on the long front seat that stretched across the entire interior of the car. I leaned my forehead on his shoulder, lightly pecking it before I laid my cheek against it. I felt his temple lean down to lean on mine, and I felt him grip my hand, his thumb rubbing my knuckles.
"I'm sorry." I answered simply, and I felt him sigh softly above my head.
"You have nothing to be sorry about." He pressed a lingering kiss into my hair, my heart doing cartwheels. I shivered.
"Cold?" He questioned quietly, and I shrugged. He leaned forward to turn his car keys, and the engine roared quietly and smoothly before he turned the aged heat dial and warm air seethed through the vents. He pulled back and wrapped his arm around me, popping the right side of my red polo collar and rubbing my shoulder lightly, warming me up. I melted into his side, letting my eyes drift closed contentedly.
"So you're sad right now?" I asked softly like a child.
"Sort of. It just feels like seeing the world through a sheet, you know? You don't see anything how you want to." He described, and I nodded. "Things you haven't thought about in ages just pop up and then you feel pain all over again." He was still. My heart ached for him, I just wished for once that he could be happy. He cleared his throat quietly, unwrapping his arm from around me and sitting up straight. "CeCe scheduled a session with my therapist in about an hour. Do you want me to drop you off at your house or mine? You could stay at my humble abode and chat it up with CeCe while I'm gone." He teased, and I laughed.
"Your house sounds good." I chose, and he smirked before backing out of the school parking space and slowly weaving out into the street in the direction of his house.
X
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X
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X
"Adieu, my love." He joked, and I rolled my eyes at his knowledge of romantic-age literature, especially Shakespeare. We stood in the entryway of his living room as he put his arms through the sleeves of his jacket, my arms crossed as I watched him a hint of a smile.
"Hurt you not, I shall be here when you return, Romeo." I played along with a smirk of my own. He chuckled lightly as he put on a pair of black sneakers and came to stand in front of me. "Be safe." I said as my fingers found themselves fixing the collar of his jacket. He feigned annoyance at my reminder and I giggled. His eyes narrowed playfully.
"You're lucky you're pretty." A blush invaded my cheeks from his compliment and a throaty chuckle erupted from his throat. "Oh look, another one of my many charming attributes: Making you blush on cue." I wrapped my arms around his neck in an embrace and laughed into his shoulder. He completed it by wrapping his hands around my hips and my stomach was tickled from the inside by invisible butterflies.
"You're so modest." I retorted sarcastically into his jacket, inhaling his scent.
"It's just another chivalrous attribute." He replied wittily, burying his face in my neck as he squeezed me a bit tighter before he turned to begin to leave. He quickly turned around and pecked my cheek and flashed me a smile. I reeled in surprise, a smile finding its way onto my lips as I muttered a quiet goodbye. He stepped through the door and I watched it close with a soft click. My sensitive fingertips touched the now tingling spot on my left cheek, and I spread apart the curtains to observe him strutting down the driveway and to his car. As he sat down in the driver's side, I saw his smile disappear and the wall he had put up while in my presence went with it. I frowned and my eyes pricked until I heard a throat clear quietly somewhere from the large expanse of the Goldsworthy living room behind me. I let the curtains drop while I turned to see a red-haired CeCe smiling at me sadly.
"He hates therapy." She explained, and I kept my surprise contained at the new information that he had never told me himself. "But he knows that he needs it, especially now." She leaned herself against the archway between the kitchen and the living room and crossed her arms over her chest, emotion splaying across her face.
"He told me he was in the midst of a low swing." I confided, and she nodded.
"He hides it well, doesn't he?"
X
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X
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X
My head sank onto Eli's pillow, inhaling the warm, woodsy smell that was mixture of laundry detergent and his scent. I curled up on top of his sheets and gazed at his boyishly messy room, his red polo shirt and khaki pants strewn carelessly on the floor. A few notebooks were stacked on top of his small oak desk along with his laptop. Several Vonnegut, Palahniuk, and a couple straggling authors were sitting in mis-array on the surface of a large dark green papasan chair in the far corner. I couldn't help but notice that his skull bed sheets and comforter were missing and replaced with a black comforter and red sheets and pillows. I smiled at how much of himself he put inside his room, with the band posters and the many pictures tucked into odd crevices and corners of things.
All of these things brought me back to Eli; His smile, the way he fixes his hair, how he walks. At the beginning of the school year, I had no idea that I would begin to fall in love with him again. But, here I am, falling for his sarcasm and his smile for the second time, and I don't wish to take anything back.
But it kills me that he pretends to be happy around me during these low periods in his depression. He described it as always having a pale sheet over his head, not letting him see the world clearly and how he desired to. When he's under that sheet, I want to go under with him.
CeCe's right, he's excellent at hiding how he feels. He's dedicated to keeping up that wall.
A low buzzing came from my pocket, and my brows pulled together as I unlocked my phone and gazed at the name on the screen.
"ClareIcan'tdriverightnow." Eli's voice trembled and slurred together quickly before I could even spit out a greeting. I heard car engines and cars honking in the background. His breath catched as he tried to inhale and my heart sped up. "Ijust-" He couldn't finish, gasping for air.
"E-Eli." I stuttered. "Breathe." His breath wooshed out of him and he coughed. Then realization hit me in the gut and it dawned on me that he was having a panic attack. "Are you hurt?" I asked, trying to come off as calm.
"N-no." He breathed. And so did I.
"Ok-kay, are you able to pull over?" I muttered into the phone, a stutter breaking through and ruining my calm and collected cover.
"Ican't- I can't right now. There are… too many-y people." He said softly, sounding panicked. "I c-can barely-" His breath caught. "-See. Or breathe." More cars honked their horns. "Can you. Can y-you, um, come help. Me?" I heard him step onto the gas harder. My hands shook as I racked my brain for a reply.
"Just slow down, people can pass you-u. And of course, do you know where you are?" I stuttered. It was about half a minute before he replied.
"I-I'm near that busy intersection… by your house. I c-can't make it- make it home…" I was on my feet in a flash. His breathing quickened and it was blatant that he was trying to slow it down but failed. "I'." He spit out. "I'll have to start again soon."
"O-okay, just stay on the phone with me until I get there. You're okay. Just breathe." His quivering breaths were high pitched through the receiver, which prompted me to move faster, darting down the stairs and sliding my sneakers on carelessly. I glanced around, and it appeared that CeCe had left. I threw on my jacket as I flew through the door and slammed it. "Can you tell me what happened?" I rushed, trying to keep talking to him as I looked around desperately for my bike, only to realize that Eli had driven me here and that I had to run. I panicked and sprinted in the direction of the intersection.
"M-my, my um-" He swallowed. "-therapy session was sort of… intense." He wimpered as he was forced to begin to drive again. My breath hitched as I forced my feet to move faster. "I didn't realize- didn't realize that I was having an, um, attack until I was on the r-road." His voice was full of misery.
"Okay. I'm… halfway there." I panted, my legs burning as I yet again forced myself to move even faster against the pavement. He hiccupped and his breath quickened again, panicked.
"JUSTPLEASEHURRY." He shouted. I ran even faster. "I-I can barely see…"
"I'm almost there." I miraculously spit out. "Just try… to stop again." I turned a corner as I neared the intersection.
"I'm trying, o-okay?" He said, slightly angered, but he caught himself. "There are too- too many fucking cars-" His sentence was cut off by deafening screeching, and my heart stopped. Loud thumping came from the other end of the line and the noise sounded far away but close at the same time. I heard Eli scream and tears sprang from my eyes, soon cut off by the sound of metal colliding that I could hear from both the receiver of my phone and in the distance ahead of me. My breath caught as Eli was wimpering and mumbling, breathing heavily while glass shattered on top of where I assumed his phone had been thrown onto the dashboard. I started crying harder as I called his name but there was no answer. I heard sobs and at first I couldn't tell if they were from the other end of the line or from me, but when I listened as close as I could while sprinting down the street, they were from him. They were loud and his breath hiccupped, a loud cry following after.
And since you know not yourself,
So well as by reflection, I, your glass,
Will modestly discover to yourself,
That of yourself which you yet know not of.
End.
Okay, so this might be a two-shot, I don't know. Ending quote was that of the amazing William Shakespeare, probably my favorite quote of all time, yo. So yeah, please review if you want this to be a TWO-SHOT? Thanks for reading.