TW: mention of anxiety symptoms
SEVENTEEN
Tuesday morning
Edward glances occasionally at the clock that hangs on the wall. It is plain and looks cheap; he suspects that it didn't cost the university that much. He thinks that, with the fees they are charging for the course, they could have purchased some decent ornaments.
"What do you think, Edward?"
His cheeks start to flush as every student turns to look at him. Thirty pairs of eyes linger, waiting for his answer. It feels as though a rock is lodged in his throat.
"Uhm," He croaks. "I really enjoyed this week's readings. I thought they were extremely informative and offered some interesting perspectives. They were good."
The room falls silent. He knows that they are waiting for him to carry on, to pull some philosophical bullshit from his arse, but merely smiles awkwardly. The seminar leader sighs.
"Anyone else?"
Edward is grateful when a flame-haired girl starts talking and the attention is taken away from him. He mentally kicks himself. He feels nauseous, but he isn't hungover. His stomach bubbles. His leg bounces underneath the table.
He spends the rest of the day in the campus library but doesn't quite find the same comfort there as he did at home. There is no Esme to greet him at the door when he walks in, no Isabella to steal magical glances at across the table. He sits in silence, reading, barely understanding the theories that are set out on his laptop screen.
He wants to scream.
Going back to his flat is no more reassuring. Leah has already gone home for reading week and Edward isn't as comfortable with the rest of his housemates. He tends to cook dinner or make a drink awkwardly while they laugh and joke together in the communal area.
He doesn't feel like himself. He feels as though he is in a bubble, floating across campus, barely aware of the world that unfolds around him.
He feels lonely. It's not that he doesn't have any friends – alongside Leah, he has his football friends and a few girls that he has shared a night with after a social. They are civil and friendly enough towards him, but it's not the same. He doesn't feel like part of a group yet, like he belongs.
He wants to scream.
In one of his breaks, Edwards stops to check his phone. There are a few messages on the screen. One from Esme, a couple from the group chat of his home friends. None from the girl he wants to talk to the most. Sending back swiftly written replies, he clicks on Instagram.
The first photo makes his stomach drop.
It's Emmett, laughing. Surrounded by a large group of guys, arms around each other. They are wearing football kits.
His face gets hot.
He can hear Emmett's voice in his head.
You look fucking sad, Cullen. Just like Swan. Why were we ever friends with you?
Edward sprints to the bathroom. He barely makes it in time to vomit into the ceramic bowl before him.
See, Edward isn't doing fantastic guys :(
Remember, if you're struggling with your mental health at all, please reach out and speak to someone! I've had my own struggles & it's scary as hell but don't think that you are alone!
Just be aware, things get pretty dark in terms of mental health from here on out.
Happy reading and stay safe x