~ Chapter Seven ~
Miserable Monday
You awoke to the sound of your alarm buzzing annoyingly, as you laid bundled up in a giant heap of blankets. You had somehow, in the middle of the night, wrapped yourself up into a big burrito. You don't remember being cold…actually, you don't even remember going to bed. The last thing that comes to your mind was you, sitting on the couch, watching Game of Thrones as you pulled your way through your hangover.
You think you had a nightmare last night….but you aren't sure.
Normally, you would remember your nightmares…..
You lazily unwrapped yourself from the blanket burrito and reached over to the bedside table for your phone. It was already 7:45. You were late for work.
Fuck.
You really need to stop being late for everything.
You quickly showered and threw on the first pair of clothes you could find, before shoving yourself out of the door. You stopped by your favorite coffee shop, on the way to the subway. The smell of freshly brewed coffee was your own personal high, and (you were convinced ) it was the only thing keeping you sane. As you waited on the small wooden bench for the subway to come, an old women (you assumed homeless, judging by her appearance ) came up to you with wide green eyes.
"Such a young, pretty face. " she said stumbling to sit next to you. "I remember those days...It seems like forever ago. "
You gave the women a patient smile as you sipped your coffee, gingerly. You didn't want to be rude, but you also didn't want to further the conversation. Sure, she seemed nice, but you knew what she was doing. The homeless that hung around the subway, didn't just decide to 'chat' you up. No, the only thing they're looking for was spare change.
"So where are you off too, this fine mornin'?" she ask curiously. You thought for a second, that she was eying your wallet.
"Work." You kept your answer short and sweet. You really hoped that the train would just get here already.
"Oh, really ? You don't seem very happy about that ."
"Yeah- well , uh. You know, work is... work ."
God, you are so awkward when it came to strangers.
"Oh I hear ya. I remember having to work. It's hard when you're all alone. When you can't afford to pay your bills. That's how I ended up here -"
Oh, here we go with the life- mother fuckin'-story.
Just as the women began, thankfully for you, the subway had pulled up.
"Sorry, uh, this my train. Uh- nice talking with you!"
Whew. Socialization averted.
The rest of the train ride was smooth and you were at work in no time. You rushed into the building, desperately hoping your boss didn't realize you were almost 15 minutes late. You were on thin ice with her lately, and you really couldn't afford to get written up. Especially not with rent due next week.
As you pushed open the doors to the small office, you caught a glimpse of Nicole sitting at her desk (which was coincidentally, right next to yours ) with a shit eating grin, as you trailed in late.
"Mornin' pumpkin ." She said as you sat down. The two of you currently had a bet going, on how many times you would be late this month.
She was currently winning.
"Fuck Mondays. " You responded with (probably ) the bitchiest tone.
Nicole took no offence and instead just laughed at your tone. "I agree dude, and it's probably only gonna get worse. It's busy as fuck, so far."
"Lovely ." You turned on your computer and quickly logged in. You worked in a Call Center, for the local medical center in town. Basically, you sat all day long, and listened to people bitch and moan when they didn't get their oxys. It wasn't all that hard, just more of an annoyance. It was a job. It paid your bills, and put food in your cupboards. So, really, you couldn't complain.
Plus, you worked with your best friend, and had an amazing boss. Dani has always been super, easy going. Sometimes, she was even more than 'just your boss'. She was a friend. Sure, at the end of the day she still signed your paychecks, but afterward she would also take the whole crew out for drinks. You were fortunate to have such an easy going boss. Sometimes, you felt guilty taking her for granted, by being late all the time.
They day began as it always did. Your first call was easy. Just a patient looking to confirm their appointment. But then, of course, as more calls came in, you started dealing with the prescription issues .
"My doctor never sent in my medication to the pharmacy!"
"I'm all out of my diabetes medicine. What am I supposed to do now?!"
"I lost my Adderall prescription. Can I have another?"
"You don't understand! I NEED my Suboxone! I don't know how my urine came back dirty!"
"I WANNA SPEAK TO THE MANAGER!"
It was always the same old shit. Before you knew it, the first half of the day had flown by and it was already lunch time. You sat down at the small, wooden lunch table with your (very poorly made ) ham sandwich. The bread was all squashed and the meat and cheese were falling off. If anyone can fuck up making something as simple as a sandwich, it was you.
Nicole sat beside you with her bowl of freshly, hot soup. It smelled delicious.
You were jealous.
"Dude what the fuck happened to your sandwich?" she asked bluntly. Nicole was many things, but subtle was not one of them.
"Hey, I'm a call center agent, not a fucking master chef." You bit into your sandwich. It actually wasn't that bad. It looked worse then it was.
Nicole laughed and returned her attention back to her soup. The lunch room fell silent as the two of you stuffed your faces. It wasn't until your break was coming to a close, before Nicole spoke again.
"So, I wanted to ask earlier, but I got distracted. Did you text him?"
You scoffed in her direction. "Text him ?"
"Yeah ya know, your bone-boy? I'm assuming it was his number he left you."
"First of all, he is not my 'bone-boy'. And no, I did not text him, nor do I plan too ."
Nicole looked disappointed at your response. "Oh come on! Why not! You two looked so cute together the other night!"
"Oh yeah," you chuckled. "I'm sure we looked real cute between his magic and my throw up ."
"Magic?! " Nicole's face lit up like she was told she just won the lottery. "You never said anything about magic!"
You got up and threw out the rest of your sandwich and began to gather your things, before heading back out to the main office. "It-It was nothing. He just showed me a little bit of what he could do." You thought back to the transparent butterfly and how beautiful it was. You thought back to how Sans's left eye ignited with an electric blue flame, and how a part of you really (really ) wanted to see it again.
…..Maybe you should text him…..
"It doesn't matter anyway," Nicole followed you out of the lunch room and back to your desk. "I ruined the moment and completely humiliated myself by vomiting everywhere."
"But- "
"No," you cut Nicole off. " I'm not texting him. I'm never, ever, ever, ever, seeing or speaking to him ever again."
Nicole sighed but still had a hinted smile across her lips. "Alright . Whatever you say. But just so you know, I ship it. "
You laughed and rolled your eyes as the two of you sat back down to your desks. "Ship it ? What, is my life a fucking television show now?"
"Dude, if your life was a TV show, I'd watch the fuck out of it."
"Why?! My life is boring !"
"Not anymore. Especially now that you got boneee-booooy. " Nicole said as she smiled and sing-songed to you.
"I'm literally going to kill you."
"No you won't. "
"Yes I will. "
The rest of the day consisted of really annoying patients, and Nicole teasing you at every turn about your bone -NO. About Sans. Not your 'bone-boy', because he wasn't your bone-boy, and he never will be.
You were never ever, eeeeeever going to see him again. Regardless of still having his hoodie.
ANYYYYYYYWAYYYY …...You had gotten home about an hour ago, and had made yourself a cheesy, microwave dinner as you sat on your couch, continuing your Game of Thrones binge. You were on Season Four, and you just couldn't get enough of this show. Sometimes you wondered what character you would be. Your personality was so all over the place , those Facebook quizzes never sorted you right. You were sassy like Sansa, but fierce like Daenerys. You felt like an outcast like Jon, and disappointment like Tyrion.
A lot of times you would just call it a day and say you were Sansa, but that was partly just because the two of you had the same hair color….
….even if your's was darker and unnatural….
As you cuddled on the couch and finish your food, you started to get chilly. You went to grab a blanket nearby, but you had (apparently) brought all of them into your bedroom last night. The only thing that was close and didn't require much effort to move was-
…
That blue hoodie.
His blue hoodie.
The one he gave you, so you weren't covered in your own vomit.
You sat there for a second, and wondered if you should put it on.
…
A part of you really, (really) wanted to. Not just because you were cold, but-
….
….maybe you could text him….
NO- No. You were not going to text him.
…..
But….that doesn't mean you couldn't wear his hoodie….
And you were -really- cold…
Fuck it.
With a frustrated sigh, you leaned over and grabbed the soft, blue material and pulled it over your goosebumped body. It was big and baggy, but super comfortable. The outside of the hoodie was sweatshirt material, but the inside was all lined with white, soft fur. It was probably one of the most comfortable hoodies you had ever worn.
You leaned back into the couch and pulled your legs up, so you were sitting indian style.
Yessss, much better ....This hoodie was better than any of the blankets in the house.
As you unpaused the TV, you reached back and pulled up the fuzzy hood, for maximum heat. It took you a minute to realize that the hoodie had a particular smell. It smelled like….cigarettes and…..was that-ketchup ?
You hated to admit that you liked the smell a little too much .
As you shook your head from budding thoughts, you returned your attention back to your favorite show, desperate to find a distraction. A few hours had passed before you even realized that the day had completely gone to a close, and that the sun had dipped behind the horizon. You then found yourself staring out of the window, rather than at the television. It was a new moon tonight, so the stars that filtered throughout the night sky, were especially bright. Even for the inner city.
A high-pitched curdling scream then came from the TV, snapping your attention from the stars, back to the show. You were kinda confused on what was happening, as for the past fifteen minutes you had completely zoned out of the episode. There was some kind of battle going on, (which wasn't uncommon for Game of Thrones. There was always a battle going on) and there was a lot of blood…(again, this is Game of Thrones….not really uncommon to see blood and/or death ) but for some reason, you just couldn't comprehend what was happening.
Instead of rewinding the episode, you turned your head downward to fiddle with your fingernails. You always did that when you were nervous. A bad habit your mother always called it. It was part of the reason you could never keep them long, or painted. Because every time they were , you always bit them back down or peeled off the paint.
But... why were you nervous?
Why was your anxiety climbing?…
You looked up from your bitten fingernails, to the coffee table in front of you, and spotted the small piece of white paper, surrounded by trash, a few dirty plates and numerous empty bottles of soda.
Oh.
Right…..You threw it there, the other night, after Nicole had left.
Why didn't you just throw it out?
You started to fiddle with the sleeves of the comforting, blue hoodie.
You….You could text him…. Just to let him know that you were ok , and that you still had his hoodie…
He left his number for a reason, There's...nothing wrong with letting him know that everything is fine...Right?...
You….didn't have to face him in person... a simple text wouldn't hurt….
Before you lost your drive and ambition, you reached over to the coffee table and grabbed the piece of paper.
You pulled your phone out of the deep pockets of his hoodie.
Monday, September 17
8:45 PM
You punched in the number and began to type out a message.
Then you erased it.
Then you typed again…
….then you erased it again….
You did this for about 10 minutes before finally settling on a message. And even then, you sat there for a little while longer, your thumb hovering just over the backspace.
Another scream from the TV, (which was still playing Game of Thrones ) and you felt your head snap up to see the source. You were expecting to see more blood, death, the same old same old, but instead were met with sex scene (Which, once again, is also not uncommon for this show ).
Disregarding the television and returning your attention back to your phone, you felt your stomach drop at the words that were now presented in front of you.
Your thumb must have slipped when you weren't looking.
Today 9:01 PM
Message Sent
