Who else low-key destroys themselves by staying up late even though they have to get up early and also knows that the odds of actually sleeping through the entire night are slim, and that less sleep causes more hyperactivity and less attention, and the strong urge to drink caffeine which only makes that even worse?
I am old enough to admit that if I saw literally any actress from any version of Six, or even if I walked past one of the theatres, I would most definitely be sobbing.
Nobody cares and I havenāt even posted anything in a good month, but Iām in such a good mood right now i feel like crying and screaming at the same time out of happiness and I also feel hella inspired to write and just :) ahahfnwodhwbdlwogwdbwkfi
I feel like Parr and Boleyn would be dating in secret until Boleyn did something stupid while the two were out and had to go the the emergency room and the other queens would show up and be like, what were you two even doing? and Parr and Boleyn would suddenly get super awkward and someone would make a joke about them being dating in secret and then it gets even worse and Parr starts blushing and then everyoneās like, wait a minute, you arenāt, right? but they are and its just mind blowing for the other queens, because it explains so much like why Parr and Boleyn keep disappearing and why Boleyn keeps showing up in Parrās room, and Parr has actually slept recently
Itās something and itās Parrlyn, but I donāt even know what exactly it is...
Anne Boleyn thrashed in her sleep, the sheets tangling around her legs as her hands clutched her head, holding it, keeping it attached to her neck. Sweat soaked her pajamas, and Anne suddenly sat straight up, awake in an instant, her breathing far too rapid. It was the same dream sheād been having for months, ever since sheād come back, and every time it happened, which seemed to be getting more and more frequently, she could swear the blade of the sword got farther through her neck.
As Anne caught her breath, she glanced at the clock, itās 4:32 glowing brightly in the dark room. She untwisted her blankets and laid down, but she could tell that falling asleep again wasnāt an option. A dim glow leaked in from under her door as Anne shifted, so she decided to investigate.
With a gentle creak, Anne opened the door to reveal the familiar hallway outside, accompanied by a single door silhouetted with a white light. It lead to Catherine Parrās room, and Anne knew that Parr had a tendency to work far too late into the night. Shaking her head slightly, Anne knocked quietly on her door.
āHm?ā A voice hummed in response, the exhaustion slightly noticeable.
āCan I come in?ā Anne asked softly, hand resting on the door handle, waiting for a positive response. She was met by Catherine, hair up in a bun, clad in a big blue sweatshirt, one earbud snaking down from her ear into her pocket, eyes red from staring at text too long, turning the handle and opening the door for Anne.
āWhy are you still up?ā Anne spoke first, after a momentary pause.
āIāve got a lot to do. Why are you up?ā Anne closed her eyes to keep the tears from forming, a small frown taking over her lips.
āBad dream.ā Silence overcame the two queens, neither knowing what to say. They stood watching each otherās expressions in the halflight from Parrās lamp.
āCome in, Anne.ā Parr spoke suddenly, and Anne realized that she was still in the hallway. Parr sat down on her chair, while Anne stood awkwardly to the side.
āWhat are you working on?ā Anne asked, seeing paper and a pen lying discarded on the desk in front of Catherine.
āItās- an essay. About Henry. About how he manipulated people. Nobody seems to think about it like that, so I need to show the world. But Iām stuck.ā A flash of light, a small burst of energy, before it died down again, appeared in her eyes as she spoke. She changed the subject swiftly, no urge to discuss her writing, no longing for anyone to discover the obsession sheād developed. āWhat was your dream about?ā
Anne didnāt reply, but a hand slipped up to her neck, as she choked back tears. It was too much. Parr noticed the subtle movements, and stood.
āItās okay to cry sometimes, Anne.ā
Anne launched herself at Catherine, letting go of her facade for the night as she broke, tears paving paths down her cheeks, onto Parrās sweatshirt. She felt hands wrap around her gently, barely feeling the moisture that dampened her neck fall from a face that was not her own. Anne could hardly feel anything but the pain, the sting in her neck that never went away, the heartache, the stress, the headache, the exhaustion.
The two girls stood together, crying, each other offering the only comfort, and Parr quietly slipped her other earbud into Anneās ear. A tune that could only be described as tragic surrounded Anne and she broke into a round of fresh tears. The music suddenly got quieter, before getting louder, a quicker and more upbeat melody playing.
āThis song reminds me of you.ā A broken smile bloomed on Anneās face, tears still flowing slowly from red eyes that met Parrās.
āWeāre so messed up.ā
āTalk about it. Tell me.ā
āI wish that every night when I lie in bed, struggling to sleep, it could be because I drank too much caffeine before. I wish that when I wake up screaming, itās not because Iām reliving my death over and over and over again.ā Anneās voice broke, but she had no more tears left to cry, no more liquid pain available to dispose of. āWhat about you?ā
āI wish that I could escape the guilt that I feel anytime I take a break, because I could be working to help the others, to help you. I want to be able to relax without feeling like no matter what I do or say or write, itāll never be enough.ā Catherineās eyes flickered to the stacks of paper that lay scattered on her desk, before shooting back to Anne, whoās space buns were falling out, who was watching her face carefully, listening like no one had ever truly done before.
āForget Henry,ā she murmured, āForget him for just one night.ā
āForget the nightmares. ā A new song began to play after a moment, a song of infectious hope that spread like fire through both queensā hearts.
āDance with me.ā
āAnytime.ā As Anne and Catherine danced together in the early morning, clutching to each other as if letting go would end them both, Anne felt just a fraction of the ceaseless pain fade away.
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