#vm.i

[asravenous]

early morning (6.52AM) in the great room september 6th 2005 with @nurturercelia

The morning air in Woodrow felt unfamiliar like this: ruffling through his messed up curls, nipping at his face as he ran around the estate. One foot forward, then the other. Jogging, on the other hand… Its rhythm didn’t change no matter where he was.

The conversation with Natalia last night had left him with more thoughts than ever, which put him off sleeping. Instead, he had agonized over every word he said and scrutinized hers. When that led him nowhere, he had turned to exercise. A pretty recent addition to the long list of stress coping mechanisms, all things considered, but he liked how it made him feel after. Dopamine was one hell of a high.

No prizes for catching the sunrise but Vikram knew if Richard were here, he would certainly appreciate its beauty with him. And wasn’t that a prize in and of itself? He waved at Donnie as he passed the guard house; the older man having arrived earlier for his shift. Really should start heading back to the House and getting ready for the event of the day.

As he pushed the French door gingerly, entering from the terrace and into the Great Room, he was a little surprised to see Celia. He didn’t think anyone would be milling around here so early in the morning. “Hi Celia,” Vikram greeted all the same. He’d hate to be told off for manners (of all things), and ignoring her never seemed to bode well for anyone.

[asravenous]

break time (12.20PM) outside the greenhouse september 6th 2005 with @sama-not-sam

Before the week had started, Vikram had called his research team twice during his time in Woodrow. Once, before he started writing his eulogy, and the second time after Richard had been buried. Both times his calls had been rejected despite him calling different people, the calls were probably screened and meticulously declined. The lead researcher had told him to take this time to properly grieve and make sure his family business was settled — and the rest of the team, it seemed like. Just his luck. 

Still, it wasn’t for lack of trying. Taking advantage of one of the breaks, Vikram slipped away from the group as they were busy eating, attempting to call anyone who would pick up. Fifteen minutes later, it was clear that they had all agreed to this, intent on making him not do any work while on this particular week off. Frustrated, Vikram trudged back toward the greenhouse with his phone in hand, occasionally checking it. It wasn’t a few steps before he bumped into Sama, and nodded in greeting. “Service here’s pretty bad, huh,” he laughed wryly, knowing she probably witnessed everything.

[asravenous]

late at night at the common area september 5th 2005 with @natcliachen

Vikram was still a little numb from the events of yesterday, staring blankly at his open notebook. In the wake of the indomitable truth, everything else that happened afterward seemed to be a blur in comparison. 

Not for the first time (and never the last), his mind was a jumble of thoughts all vying for his attention. It’s all a deluge of what-ifs and maybes, like what if he had gone back to Woodrow more frequently? Maybe if he had spent more time with Richard, the regret and guilt currently gnawing away at his heart would lessen.

Sentimentality had never been his strong suit but surrounded by familiar faces and thrust into his childhood home, his thoughts drifted back to old memories. His fingers traced letters carved into the table, brought back to a time less fraught with tension. He allowed himself a small smile when there’s a creak in the old, wooden floorboards and his head turned, snapping out of his thoughts.

Vikram’s eyes widened imperceptibly. Here came someone who had only existed in the back of his mind until recently. His voice was a little hoarse as “Natalia?” came out of his mouth unbidden, in disbelief at who he’s seeing.

It’s barely a whisper. She had done a marvelous job of avoiding him while they were both in Woodrow, occupying herself when she couldn’t. Vikram didn’t blame her. Not anymore, not after countless therapy sessions where he found it in himself to actually want the help. His Adam’s apple bobbed uncomfortably at the unexpected situation, swallowing down the words he’d always thought of saying to her. Things could never be that simple in this reality.

“Are you… going to sleep?”