HIDDEN PAIN 𐦍 GarrothXReader

51| The steps to flying

     "(Y/N)," My name is called in the distance. The covers slip further down my body, only for me to drag them back even higher. "(Y/N)-"

     "Fuck off, Aaron. Just leave me alone." My voice is muffled by the sound of the pillow.

     "No. You've been in bed for a week straight: two days of which you haven't eaten, another two you haven't spoken, and three of which you haven't showered." I shove another pillow over my head. "I know the incident was tough on you-" The audacity of this man.

     "I almost died. I'm allowed to sit and mope."

     "Almost, but you didn't. Now, I'm preventing you from almost dying again by getting your ass out of bed!" With a sharp grunt from Aaron, I'm suddenly on the cold hardwood floor.

That didn't even hurt.

What the hell was in that Bronzeplum Karina made me?

     "Please," I say with a sigh. "Just give me another day. I'll be better tomorrow-"

     "You said that yesterday." His overgrown black locks fall into his face. "And the day before. And the day before that." He goes to grab my arm but I quickly yank it away.

He sighs.

With a thud, I hear him collapse into the desk chair beside the bed. I turn my head to look at him, my heart dropping when I see him running his hands through his hair.

Is he angry? Tired? Has he eaten? Maybe he's stressed out about his parents and Sierra leaving for three weeks- "Please do something, (Y/N)."

I pick my head up slightly at the sound of desperation in his voice. "Draw, paint, go for walk, check your damn phone- yell at me for all I care but just do something!" I flinch at the raise of voice.

Somehow, the cold hard-wood becomes even colder. I can't tell if it's my skin or the temperature of the room. Either way, it's not pleasant.

     "I'm fine," I try.

     "No, you're not,"

     "Yes, I am,"

     "People who are fine don't stay in bed for a week,"

     "It's called being tired,"

     "You're always tired," He scoffs.

A tense silence follows the statement.

     "I... I don't know why. I'm sorry." My arms feel weak as I push myself up onto my knees. Aaron peers out from his bush of hair.

     "Take a shower then come down for lunch." He finally says. "We're going to the mall later since you've spent enough time in this house." Then he leaves without another word.

꧁꧂

     Sometimes, I have these days where I can't leave the bed.

It started when I was nine. One day I couldn't find the strength to leave bed no matter how many times my foster mom screamed at me to wake up.

And it wasn't physical strength, no. My legs and arms worked perfectly fine so that wasn't it. But the thought of getting up and leaving the house- going to see people and interacting...

I couldn't get up.

There was no point in getting out of a bed only to face a cruel world that made me feel hopeless. I was tired enough as it was.

Sometime around twelve and thirteen, I didn't feel too much of those feelings anymore. I thought they had just gone away, but now that I realize it, I had just gone numb.