He had ruined it. He wasn't sure how he'd ruined it yet, but it felt like he had. She had ran away, rather slowly albeit but still she had ran away from him; something she hadn't done in a long, long time. It stung and panicked him.
'I shouldn't have said anything.' Tiredly, Ciaran rubbed his face. 'Should have just let it go. Should have known better for fucks sake.'
Gnawing at his lip Ciaran twitched as he sat, almost ripping out the little ring on numerous occasions, and started to count. He was tired; his whole body shook with fatigue as he tried to calm his heart. It had been so long. Feet firmly planted to his living-room floor he laid back on the sofa and started to bite his nails. The wind outside had begun to mount and swell tearing into the houses and whistling in under the doors; excitedly gorging itself on the heat, leaving inhabitants like Ciaran shivering. 'Summer' it may be, and it may be August but it was still Scotland.
'What if she doesn't come back?' Bouncing his knee in time to a phantom melody in his head Ciaran tugged at his fuzz. 'She's going to go off to this fucking school and not come back. She's going to leave. That fucking world is going to steal her.'
Sucking in a breath Ciaran held his head in his hands and tugged roughly on his hair. The taut muscles in his shoulders rippled and spasmed in fatigue as he fought tears and attempted to bottle this whirlwind that was beginning to claw away at him again.
Looking like a desperate man to the phantom onlooker, Ciaran sat hunched over with his head in his hands. His knee bouncing more vigorously he attempted to drag in deep breaths into his sore chest but it was like trying to haul back a rising tide. He felt like he was drowning. It was stupid and it was irrational but he felt like he was spiralling out of control again. He was spilling out of the dams he'd built, leaving the off-balanced feeling he'd started to experience since this whole revelation more room to grow. The drafts whistled through the house and snaked around his bare toes making goose-bumps rise up his arms. The onlooker gazed inquisitively at him, their sentry post being the small patch of carpet behind the sofa, providing a perfect vantage point for their watch. Releasing his head only with his left hand he began to chew at his nails again drawing blood from a hangnail.
Fuck he wanted some.
It wouldn't hurt anyone; just settle his nerves a little bit. Calm him down and sober him up, make him sharp as a tack. He'd only do one. Just one and he'd pour it all down the sink the very moment he was done with it; it wouldn't even be hard to do it.
'It wouldn't make a big difference, one's hardly going to kill me and it's not like I'm going back to that.' Standing up he walked into the kitchen, bare feet slapping against the floor he only made it to the hall way before he stopped. Leaning against the wall he tugged at the hem of his T-Shirt. 'This is stupid. She said she'd never leave, that this was her home." Biting his nails once more Ciaran bounced his leg as he stood. 'And she said she'd keep in touch, it isn't like I'll never speak to her while she's there.'
His house was cold, ridiculously cold in fact and it brought him out of his thoughts for a brief second. There was frost creeping up his windows racing competitively against the condensation that was rapidly sheeting the glass. It was strange. August was rarely this cold, even for Scotland's deranged weather, it never got this bone chillingly cold so why was it so damned frosty in his home? Sliding down the bare wall of his hallway Ciaran let out a hiss as his skin scraped against the chilled drywall, settling rather awkwardly Ciaran drew his knees up to his chest- his foot now tapping in an erratic rhythm. The onlooker moved through the sofa to peer at Ciaran from the doorway, their hazy shape almost blurring into the colours behind them.
'I need it, just this once. Only this once.'
His skin itched; it was like there was thousands of little electric ants doing circuits under his skin making it crawl. Fingers twitching Ciaran clambered to his feet, an unearthly chill lapping at his heels, and dragged himself to the kitchen. His jars were strewn haphazardly and randomly, small mounds of herbs and leaves were stationed across the counter tops and table like sentinels. Leopards bane. Arrowroot. Death-nettle. Black Cohosh. None of them were what he was looking for. They weren't what he needed.
Gazing at the mounds of herbs passively the onlooker cocked their head, trying to interpret what he was doing. Why he was doing it. Jars were being smashed as the boys shaking hands couldn't grip them, contents being spilled; some spilling to form puddles, others formed dusty coverings. The boy's shoulders shook now. The onlooker was confused, the boy shook and shuttered as he knocked over jars but he still didn't stall. He was looking for something.
'It's here. I know it is. I left some, hid it away. Where is it?'
His eyes prickled as he searched for the little jar with a tin foil cap unsuccessfully. It was just this once.
Hands circling a petit glass jar Ciaran almost let out a hysterical laugh as he slid down the cabinet door. Resting on his kitchen floor Ciaran gripped the little jar with such ferocity his knuckles almost matched the face of the onlooker. Even resting his back against the cabinet he couldn't gather the strength to hold himself. Letting his head fall onto his knees Ciaran lifted his arms and cradled his head, the room was spinning, his chest seared and his stomach roiled. He was so tired.
'Just this once.' he sobbed, his face glistening unknowingly to the onlooker, 'It's only this fucking once.'
I know this is only a wee tote of a chapter but I felt that by lumping this in with the next chapter made it seem insignificant, which isn't my goal. I'm working steadily on the next chapter, and if anyone is readying this- Thank you. The next chapter will be up soon enough if all goes well.
Just a warning, this story will contain really, really colourful language because of where my character is from. Just a heads up!