@wcllflower, a continuation from here.
He’d spent the evening with his hands tangled tight in unkempt hair, writhing; crushing full cigarettes between shaking fingers, and boring white, hot, angry searing holes into the bare expanses of his dormitory walls. It’s not fair, it’s not fair, it’s not fair — like a mantra written for the unfortunate, his mind reeled with self-pitying repetition until the words had become shapeless sounds that didn’t mean much of anything anymore; a white noise that kept him company until it no longer did.
Her messages, left unanswered, had openly mocked him for hours — he’d contemplated returning the favor, to send something to ruin her day, but struggled in getting past the first few words. Because as much as he wanted to voice his feelings of being patronized and humiliated and betrayed, the need to say yeah, it’s cool and nothing has to change was just as prevalent; something too polarizing for the bout of anger and self-doubt he’d been flooded with to rationalize sensibly.
But by the time anger and exhaustion had finally burnt him down to a withered calm, the sky had bled night; the only light-source in his room being the dimmed-down illumination of his phone screen after swiping the pad of his thumb across the face of it. His tired eyes had burned with irritation from the suddenness of harsh blue light, but the feeling is something he’s not exactly foreign to, it’s easy enough to ignore.
Sam’s messages had been the last thing he’d opened before dismissing his phone, accessible the very instant he’d done away with his lock-screen. A notification from Victoria Chase reading ‘nate WTF’ appearing in a banner across the top of the screen tells him that she’s unimpressed with his absences today, but he simply uses the blade of his thumb to slide her concerns into obscurity. He’ll pay for being shitty later, but she’ll forgive him (as she always does — Vic is a good friend that way).
With priority in mind, the boy blinks tightly against the itchy sensation of his tired eyes, struggling to focus on the short string of words he brings together.
3:50:32am [Text: Samantha.] — u awake .
It was a little strange. Samantha had, admittedly, wished she could have
returned home from time to time, usually during times of isolation or hard
days, but she really didn't want this. Of course, she had argued and
begged, went to asking her mother for extra money toward keeping her
for another year, but she had simply told her there was nothing they could
do and that she could wait year or two and apply on scholarship when the
time comes. Her father seemed to be less optimistic about her returning,
just stating the time he'd be arriving and that she should be glad to have
an experience like this, even if she couldn't complete her time there.
At that point, she had just stopped replying and left her phone on the desk
in her increasingly bare dorm room, set on packing as the whole finality of
the situation had set in. It honestly just made her want to sit down, forget
what was happening. Apologize to Nathan for the texts, if he even wanted
to hear it—the more silence she got from him seemed to nail that idea
further into her head. Still, reality was that she needed to pack up her room
and say goodbye to a couple other people, which was what she spent
most of her day doing.
By the time her phone dinged again, she was pretty sure she was the only
one left in the girl's dorm who had their light still on. Her room was almost
completely bare now, her belongings packed in a couple boxes that sat in
the middle of the room, her bed, computer, and a change of clothing the
only things left out. Her body was aware that she really should have been
asleep, she knew she could feel it once her mind slowed down enough to
realize that, but she knew that she wouldn't be getting much of one anyway.
Upon seeing Nathan's name, she couldn't help the spike of anxiety. She
certainly hadn't forgotten about the texts, but she had started to come to
terms that she probably wasn't going to hear from him that day, or ever.
However, she stared down at the two word text, not too sure what to say,
but she opened it up anyway. As she typed, erased, and retyped, it really
occurred to her just how awkward this was. Still, she couldn't help but
wonder if there'd be a chance to leave things on a better note, or get
some closure if all else fails.
The thought sat heavy in her gut, but it was the reality of the situation.
3:52:25 am [Text: Nathan] For a while, yeah.
gummygunk
baratheonpilled
ellievsbear
prguitarman
discoholicmusic
