#la13starter

[witheyeslikeafortuneteller]

Open Chat

Oi! You dropped your wallet.

[neverputhebottledown-blog]

Depression

Today was not a good day.

Grantaire lay in bed, wrapped in blankets. He hadn't moved since he woke up that morning. The paralyzing, painful sadness had returned, squeezing the air out of his chest. He felt it creeping up on him since he dropped taking his meds, leaving his apartment less and less. He missed coffee with a friend yesterday and couldn't remember who, turning off his phone to ignore the worried texts that he knew would be there. The only reason he hadn't relapsed today was he didn't feel he could leave bed. Grantaire didn't know how much time had passed, curling up into a tight ball. Sobs wracked his thin body as it finally overwhelmed him. He threw the covers over his head, sobbing so hard he couldn't see our breathe. This is why he didn't hear the knock at his door, not someone everything his room.

[hypochondriac-revolutionary]

Open para

Joly had just finished work. It had been a good day for him, that meaning he wasn't around as many sick people as he usually is. This allowed for Joly to be in a better mood than normal. On his way back home Joly decided to stop by the Musian. It wasn't too far from the hospital plus the traffic didn't seem too bad. The parking however was insane. Once he had finally found a spot he hopped out and was ready to go. Joly walked up to the bar and tried ordering a beer. He wasn't one for drinking but figured why not? Once he got his drink and sat in his usual booth and pulled out some paperwork.

[lover-and-fighter-marius-blog]

Text || enjolras

Marius: hey, enjolras. I know this is sort of out of the blue, I think, but, we haven't really spoken since you got kind if mad at me for that thing, and I wasn't sure if we were um, still cool, for lack of better words? You know what I mean. I guess if you don't hate me or anything, it would be nice to hear from you.

[neverputhebottledown-blog]

Apologies and Alcoholism

Grantaire stood nervously outside of Jehan’s door, shifting from foot to foot with a box of tea in his hands. It had been a month and a half since he had seen the poet, having made the decision to drop completely off the map when going through the beginning of his withdrawal. He hadn’t seen or heard from anyone at all in his self made solitude. The only people he had had contact with was Combeferre and Musichetta. Who he couldn’t believe convinced him to do this. They said it was trade of four having them not tell anyone where and how sick he was. Grantaire really hadn’t gotten out much, having been violently ill and weak from quitting drinking so suddenly. He still felt sick and had to be on medication, and would for a long time. The psychological damage had also taken it’s toll on Grantaire. Dark circles hung under his eyes from the nightmares and he was painfully skinny. Connecting with friends was part of his back-to-normal-life acclamation. God, he missed them so much it ached. For the fifth time, Grantaire raised his hand to knock, but lowered it again. He was so scared of what Jehan might say. If he would reject him, laugh at him, get him to relapse. He knew it was foolish, but the familiar anxiety was clutching at his heart again. He didn’t think he’d be able to live if Jehan was cruel. Gathering up his courage before his could regret it, Grantaire raised his hand and knocked quickly, wincing at the sound.

[neverputhebottledown-blog]

Open Starter

Grantaire walked cautiously into the cafe. It had been over a month since he had gone to a meeting our seen anyone besides Combeferre. Nervously he sat in his usual spot, trying to hide a black eye and split lip. Ordering a cherry coke, he sat back lost in thought.

[hypochondriac-revolutionary]

Open Chat//

Wh-Why?

[hypochondriac-revolutionary]

Open chat//

Isn't c-college l-life a r-rollarcoster?!