Slowly allowing her gaze to focus on the unfamiliar side of the bed she had dreamt was occupied by her sister, Tegan let a groan escape her lips, lifting her head in alarm as she momentarily forgot that she'd stormed out of the bus and into a sketchy hotel room. As soon as the television across from her and the peeling wallpaper made sense, she was out of bed and moving into the bathroom, her palms tingling as the cold porcelain registered in her numbed senses. She hadn't been drinking and she hadn't taken anything. She knew the sluggish state she was in could only be blamed on a night spent drowning in depression, relishing in the naivete of her dreams and the pull back into reality when she'd opened her eyes. However, she wasn't ready to come to terms with the real world, so she turned back to the bed and crawled under the sandpaper excuses for sheets, pulling them over her head and whining as her phone rang out into the early morning air. She turned on her side and squinted at the screen, mouthing a single word before her groggy voice let out another sound of annoyance, her finger tapping the 'decline' option before she rolled onto her stomach and slipped her arms under the pillow, her head resting on the cardboard-like cushioner.
She spent more than twenty minutes with her eyes closed, watching images of her sister fade and renew, their timeline starting over as she witnessed, in vivid detail, the smiles, tears, gut-wrenching sobs, and delighted squeals accompanied with the features to match until she couldn't anymore, and pushed her weight off of the weakened mattress visited by countless others, positioning herself at the bottom of the bed with her head in her hands, too afraid to shut her eyes again. Her head was swimming with two raging sides of a losing battle - anger and sadness, denial and the sting of a neglected, wounded heart. She knew that she wasn't ready to face the consequences of returning to the inescapable close quarters that came with sharing a tour bus with her band mate, but the fact that she would eventually have to go back was relentlessly nagging at her, pushing at the boundaries of her mind, forcing its way into the circle of anxiety that overwhelmed her to the point of distressed tears.
Tegan's hands grew clammy with apprehension, her stomach tightening into knots of panic and insecurity while her brain argued with the sensation, combatting the vulnerability with a self-justified point of the finger towards Sara, who wasn't there to defend herself. She didn't care if it was childish of her to figuratively stick out her tongue and run with her tail between her legs, she felt as if it were reasonable. It was her right to do whatever she wanted for as long as she was grieving - that's what this was. She was losing the woman she grew up with, learnt from, and led through the harshness life presented them with, she had been the proud bystander of a young girl beautifully developing into a confident, worthy young woman, she had been the first to envelope Sara in her arms and spin her through the air upon the announcement of their victory in the Garage Warz contest that had been the catalyst to their whole career together, and what was all that now?
She could remember the times when things were much simpler and their love hadn't been an object of consideration. She could remember waking her twin in the middle of the night, requesting an escort through the darkness in a hushed tone. She could remember when a momentous interview meant sitting under the protection of a white tent in capris and sleeveless shirts with only one microphone.
The sudden rush of nostalgia was like a punch to the gut as things were, and Tegan couldn't fight the want of an easier period as she contemplated her next move, though the effort was quickly interrupted by the ringing of her phone. She pulled the device from her pocket, checking the contact picture before accepting the call.
"Sara."