Chapter 5: Falter
TRIGGER WARNING: Slight suicidal ideation via pills referenced. It's not dwelled on for too long but it's there.
It took three days before Uma felt vaguely human again. Which wasn't saying much when it was difficult remembering how that felt exactly, again. Didn't most people wake with a pressing weight on their chest that they just got used to?
She slept through most of the first day, waking up only twice to shuffle her way to the bathroom. By the time she had tucked herself back into bed, an exhausted sleep coming quickly, the sun was setting and the shop below was mostly quiet.
When she woke again, mouth parched and the stars and the moon her only company, Uma grabbed a glass of water and a granola bar from one of the bags that CJ had brought. She stared contemplatively at the bottle of ibuprofen also bought, dark curling tendrils of weariness curling and caressing her mind like the smoke of her mother's favorite cigarettes curled into the air. She opened the bottle, careful to take one pill, only one, before shoving the rest of the bottle somewhere down deep with the rest of the groceries she had still yet to unpack. She took a long swig of water before swallowing the pill and crawling back into bed.
The second day, Uma found herself in and out of wakefulness, a strange limbo of fever induced tiredness and bed ridden restlessness. She forced herself to stay awake long enough to heat up a container of soup, despite her stomach clenching at the thought of being forced to hold something. She had been surprised to see that CJ hadn't just gotten her a bag full of canned soup like any sane person but had instead apparently gone to the diner from the other day, Granny's, and ordered several sealed containers of chicken noodle soup to go.
When the soup was warmed and Uma took her first sip, she nearly burned her tongue trying to get a second taste of the delicious soup. In just a few minutes, despite her usually low appetite and her stomach's earlier protest, she had eaten nearly a container and a half of soup.
Feeling slightly better and not having to reach for a tissue in the last ten minutes, Uma returned to bed. She attempted to read a random book that had been left behind by a customer weeks ago, a tale about a knight and a pirate falling in love but two pages in had her dozing off, sleeping the rest of the day away.
The third day, Uma awoke sometime during the morning rush. A muffled buzz of conversation rose from the shop below. The coffee shop's noise a sharp contrast to her hard disorientated breathing.
The night before her dreams had pushed through her cold medicine fogged mind, demanding to be acknowledged. She dreamt of her dead mother with legs that split into dark tentacles that wrapped and wrapped around her, not letting her go. She dreamt of storms and waves and drowning, pulling her deeper and deeper into inky waters. She dreamt of bright blue eyes and a smile tinged with brokenness that stirred emotions she wished would stay dead to life.
Waking up feeling like her thin sheets were too suffocating and like a rhino had been tap dancing on the back of her eyes, Uma knew that going back to sleep seemed the furthest thing from her mind.
The thermometer that CJ had tossed into the bag of things she had brought days ago beeped actively after Uma placed it in her mouth. She tapped her finger anxiously against her thigh, feeling her mind slowly drift from her body. Her gaze turned towards where she knew the bottle of pills were hidden before she pinched herself, hard, mind sluggishly returning back to focus.
Fuck no, she reminded herself, albeit it weakly. You're not like her.
The thermometer beeped with a finish chirp, pulling her away from thoughts better not dived into.
Higher than normal, but not a fever. Good enough, she thought, already reaching for her still unpacked bag of clothes.
Uma forced herself to swallow the bile that rose to her throat when her hand accidentally brushed against her mother's urn or when changing her shirt, Ursula's necklace glinted mockingly in the dim light until it was covered again by that same shirt that girl, Melody, had given her days ago.
It only took a few minutes for her to pull on some clothes and rush down the stairs from her apartment, anything to pretend to put space between her and her nightmares and the temptation her mother had never been strong enough to leave.
Uma was almost off the stairs, almost close to her freedom beyond the back door, when she heard a voice from the front of the shop, causing her to falter on the last step.
"I'm gonna take off now, Ettie. Tell the little rugrat I'll be back before the next crowd when she comes in," a familiar voice smoothly caressed her ears like the milk she had watched him pour into his coffee just a few nights before. He pushed past the swinging doors to the back of the shop, black leather jacket half way on and a wry smile on his lips like fucking Michelangelo himself carved it there.
Guyliner really had no right to be that pretty, her unhelpful mind thought as his forget-me-not blue eyes landed on her.
Harriet shouted something in response back to him from the front but neither really heard as he stood just as frozen as she was at the sight of her.
"How is your face so pretty again?," rushed out of her mouth before she could stop them. Smooth, she mentally berated herself taking in the way that the bruises on his face seemed almost unnoticeable in such a short period of time.
He took her words in stride as he shrugged his jacket completely on. "Wonders of makeup, lass," he answered, ego stroked but her unintentional compliment. He almost seemed to preen in a way at her praise that wasn't totally unbearable for her to witness. "Don't wanna give the gossips something new to squawk over. Now," he swaggered his way towards her, all tall, dark, and mischief as he was still able to look down at her even from her place one step up.
Uma unintentional breathed in the smell of coffee and old leather off of him. It worked for him, she thought watching him.
"Why aren't you in bed, darling?" he asked just a hint of genuine concern before he teasingly leaned in, eyes briefly flicking down towards her shirt, seemingly preening even more for reasons beyond Uma's understanding. He tilted his head down slightly so they were eye level and asked in a tone that felt all too intimate for Uma, "Lookin' for someone to warm your bed? I'd be willin' to volunteer as your cuddle buddy." He wiggled his eyebrows flirtatiously.
Idiot, she thought with very little bite.
Rolling her eyes (something she seemed to be doing a lot in his presence), Uma pushed him back with one hand against the middle of his chest to regain her personal space. "What are you doing here, Guyliner?"
"Well, I'm trying to be a little spoon in this little cuddle party we're planning," he easily answered placing his much larger hand over hers that still rested on his chest, thumb seemingly stroking the back of hers unconsciously. "That is, unless ye wanted to be the little but I have a feelin' yer a big spoon kind of lass."
Uma snatched her hand away, ignoring the way the warmth from his hand annoyingly seemed to warm her cheeks hot or the wink that he sent her. She crossed her arms, silent and expectant.
Sighing, Guyliner's flirty expression slipped away. "Just giving Ettie and Callie a hand," he jammed his hands in his pockets looking uncomfortably off to the side.
He gave no further explanation and something buzzed at the back of Uma's mind, nagging her to remember some bit of information that it seemed she was forgetting. But like a sneeze that just wouldn't happen, whatever it was felt just out of her grasp. Besides, his flirting turned off so suddenly revealed the same awkwardness and guarded vulnerability she felt when she asked how he had gotten beat up days ago.
She needed to leave. She didn't know him. Didn't owe him anything. He wasn't her problem.
"Well...Uh...thanks for helping Flotsam and Jetsam," she said awkwardly, moving around him and closer to the back door.
She hated the way his bright blue eyes followed her like spotlights, curiosity and humor bright and magnified by slightly smudged black eyeliner that made his stare on her even more intense.
On the heels of the fading but still jarring dreams that had forced her out of her bed, Uma just wanted to disappear. To not feel his stare like a blanket smothering her. To fade quietly out of awareness. To continue to be numb…
She didn't owe anyone anything. Not him. Not Killian. Not Harriet or CJ. Not her mother...
"I can't be here," she said quickly, taking the last few steps out of the door and not looking back before sprinting out, ignoring his call after her, ignoring the boy with the blue eyes that reflected back the same easy to identify sadness and detachment within herself that rose and broke like waves ready to knock her over like a lone toy ship trying to survive a storm at sea.
Thanks to LeafFic for this chapter's word, "falter".
Not much to say for this one but I hope you enjoyed this update. Let me know what you think and if you have a word or theme let me know in an ask on Tumblr (edream93) or put it with your review on here.
Until next time...