𝐋𝐨𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐅𝐚𝐢𝐭𝐡 | Dreamwastaken

7

This fic includes mature topics. [Self-harm + Emotionally/Physically abusive relationship + Smut/Fluff + Bulimia]

Tw// derealization/depersonalization

Last night. Last night I tried to give Clay his space considering the problems I've caused just from just stumbling into his life, so I tapped on his door and mouthed goodnight. His stream?..was still going and I didn't want to have to make him explain the random girl's voice twice.

___________

There was no particular noise, no interruption that woke me so suddenly I assume my dream had just come to its conclusion. The night movie had ended, credits had rolled. Now it was time to engage in the real world. My eyes flicker open and hit one especially blinding beam of sunlight. I don't remember leaving the blinds open?

I smile at the thought of Clay coming in here and opening the blinds, caring about me like that. Or maybe he just liked the blinds open.

I sit up and look around the room, taking in the tall glassy windows, the sad grey that painted way too many walls in this sterile house, the cute little green hanging clock on the wall directly across from the bed. Quiet ticking every minute. The only bit of character in here. As I continue to observe the room I feel my hand start to tingle, pulsing along with the ticks of the clock. Like...pins and needles, but just barely there. I look back up from my hand at the clock which seems to be making noise every second, rather than minute now. I notice it's actually a very nice sagey green. Somehow the grey walls look even more devoid of color. I feel sorta foggy?

My hand doesn't feel like my hand anymore. I feel...bad. Not good. I rest my head back down on the pillow, just laying. I can't move- I think I can. No, I don't want to.

So I lay

And I lay

Until Clay calls my name from the hallway, I hear him getting closer. Something about– something about food, lunch? How long had I been just laying? I hear the door open, I want to turn to look, but I don't. I stay put. He says my name again but it's loud. And he says it again. It's so loud it hurts. I try to move under the blanket, cover my head with a pillow. Something.

"It's like 1 you should wake up. We can get something to-"

A dip in the bed, and a hand on my shoulder.

"Sadie." He continues in a sing-songey tone.

I don't answer.

He starts again, shaking my shoulder, "Sadie?"

It's so loud.

Clay tugs the pillow off my head hard, but I don't move. 

If he wasn't yelling before he was for sure now, "Are you 5? Hello? "

I feel like he's in my head, buried in my eardrums, screaming at me and I won't move.

Jumping up from where I was stationary, I watch his expression contort from surprise to confusion, to absolutely nothing. "SHUT UP. SHUT UP PLEASE!" I shouted, so loudly I worried my head might just fly off. "WHY ARE SO LOUD, SHU-" I choked on my own words, trying to hide a sniffle, tears welling up in my eyes. "WHY- Why are you..." I inhaled deep, catching my breath from shouting. 

"Please, why are you so loud?" 

We stared. Just stared, the only noise was my heavy breathing and the ticking of the stupid fucking– The bed creaked as I hopped off, almost tripping. Knees a little weak. I walk across the room, and lean over the desk posted up against the same wall as the godawful clock. It was a bit of a struggle pulling it from the wall on my tipytoes, but the feeling of Clay staring daggers into my back was extremely comforting. 

Strangely enough I had felt better, well enough to sit back down on a bed with the guy I had just berated. As soon as my ass hit the bed our stares met, but he averted his eyes just as quick.

What should I say? Nothing seemed appropriate. 'Sorry for freaking out on you, you were really loud'?

Using the little voice I had left I made a fuitle attempt at explaining, "It was loud? It hurt- like..." Looking back up at him I trailed off realizing I was losing him. Don't think at any point I actually had  him honestly.

I gathered my thoughts in a second effort, but we both had the same idea. 

He backed down quickly, like he's used to being talked over, "You first." He smiled? A comforting smile, like what just happened didn't happen. "Ok. It-" I let out a noise of frustration, not knowing how to get my words out in the right way, that he countered with a pair of expectant eyes.

Third times a charm, "Alright so, my head was hurting, and I was... dizzy." I was struggling to explain myself without coming off crazy. "I was dizzy, and so everything was really loud." He looked like he wanted more out of me, like I wasn't finished even though I thought I was. 

"And I'm sorry." He followed my apology with a big sigh, and another smile. Maybe I did good. I think I apologized well.

Or maybe not.

He was smiling but it stayed at his mouth. It didn't carry over to his eyes. It definitely didn't. They looked blank. No expression whatsoever. 

His eyes were beautiful, almost identical to James's in color. Nothing alike though. James's eyes were just as pretty, the brown specks that littered his iris's, the way they would almost turn a light yellow in the sun. The brief dilation of his pupils that let me know I was good. I had made him happy. He was pleased. And the constriction when I had done the opposite. When I messed up. Needed to be better for him. 

James.

I think I need to go home.