'Holy shiz I should not have eaten breakfast.' Idina takes a deep breath and swallows hard, trying to calm her churning stomach. Shifting from foot to foot she waits by the front door for James to finish his...business. 'I swear, that man takes longer to pee than anyone else I know.' Idina's thoughts are halted as the bathroom door opens and James joins her in the entryway.
"Your place then the theatre?" James confirms the plan, reaching to the door knob.
"Yes." Idina gulps in another breath after answering, her voice breathy and anxious. James' head turns to look her in the eye, brows furling in concern.
"You okay?" Idina inwardly curses his attentiveness as she nods and looks away. He brings her gaze back to front with the back of a gentle finger to her cheek. She meets his gaze, trying to project as much strength as she can and hide her inner turmoil.
"We need to go. We don't want to risk being late." Idina nods to the door and James draws back his hand. 'Oh honey, don't do this again. Please.' He swallows and opens the door, holding it open for Idina. He watches her subtle breath in before stepping confidently into the hallway. Together they walk outside to the parking lot. The car ride to Idina's apartment is silent, Idina sitting with her back ramrod stiff and staring straight ahead out the window and James glancing over at her often enough to border on edge of dangerous. He turns onto her street and hears her breath quicken. Why is she so afraid of going home? As they pull into the parking lot, Idina whispers a quiet thank you. James shuts the driver's side door behind him and walks around the truck. He stifles a giggle as Idina dangles her legs, reaching for the ground. Her toes finally make contact with the pavement and she lowers herself out of the truck. She glances at James, hoping he didn't see her struggle. Her cheeks flush with embarrassment when she sees his grin.
"Oh, shut up," she mutters as she leads him to her apartment. The slight moment of relaxed amusement fades as Idina's tension builds again up the many flights of stairs. Her hands shake as she reaches in her purse, all but sprinting down the final hallway. Stopping in front of her door she struggles to get the key in the lock. A large set of warm, comforting hands appear in her blurring vision, one taking her key and the other taking her hand. Idina blinks and takes a step back, though remaining holding James's hand as he unlocks the door to let them both in. Her tremors intensify and James does his best to counteract them. She releases his hand and steps powerfully into her apartment.
"I'll get changed and ready and grab a few things and then we can take off again. I shouldn't be more than a few minutes." Idina's voice wobbles and her words are hurried as she runs a shaky hand through her hair before turning and leaving James in the living room. He looks around. The room is clean almost to a fault. A bookshelf stands in the corner, three shelves filled with books alphabetized meticulously by author's last name, one shelf peculiarly filled with worn notebooks. Only one thing seems out of place. He walks over the the small, wooden table beside the couch. A notebook lays open, worn to match all the others on the bookshelf. He moves a thin tip, red, washable marker off the top of the notebook and picks it up. All but the last few pages are filled with words going every direction, all written in red marker. Fat. Ugly. Hopeless. Fool. Useless. Idiot. Stupid. Insignificant. Not good enough. Weak. Never enough. Worthless. James runs his finger over the spots where drops of water have blurred the writing. Despite his efforts against it, a single tear rolls down his face, falling to land on the notebook in the same spot once wet by one of Idina's tears. All of these words she wrote about herself, not a single one of them true. He wishes he knew how to show her how wrong all these words are.