Procrastinators on Stage (Chris Kendall/crabstickz fanfic) *unedited*

Parts 40- I Don't Like Anything

Like anyone else, there have been times where I've wanted the ground to swallow me up as a result of complete and utter humiliation. This was undoubtedly one of those times. I wanted nothing more than for the welcome mat on Carrie's doorstep to pull back like a trap door which would let me tumble down into eternal darkness. My body felt cold, like any warmth and kindness had been bleached from my system in response to the situation. I wanted nothing more than for this meeting with these people to go well, but the dread and sense of foreboding that nagged at me made doubt swim in my bloodstream.

Chris' eyes judged me as I hovered on the welcome mat and he blocked my entrance to Carrie's flat like a sublime dragon guarding its hoard.

His jaw set for a moment before he spun his head round to look over his shoulder. "I'm going home," he yelled back into the flat suddenly. Much to my horror, he reached out behind him and tugged a coat from the coat stand and stuffed his feet into a pair of shoes with his heels protruding over the shoe backs.

I heard hurried footsteps before Carrie popped up in the hallway behind Chris like an apparition and put a hand on his forearm. "Don't be an idiot," she said calmly as she stared him down, her eyes only briefly flicking to me. "You've no reason to leave."

Chris scowled at me from under his fringe. "But she does. We don't want her here."

My heart crumbled and yet I refused to drop my gaze. "I'm here to apologise," I stated boldly.

"Apologise? Fuck off, Jamie," he grumbled. He tugged at the collar of his jacket. "I've got script writing to do, Carrie, I need to go,” he said softly.

Carrie frowned. "Give her a chance, Chris." She said his name so tenderly, as if she were calming a child down from a tantrum.

Chris sighed and gently lifted Carrie's hand off his arm. "I did," he whispered to her.

I felt a pang in my chest as he looked away from Carrie and me, silent for a moment, before kicking off his shoes and slouching back into the flat. He then disappeared from sight whilst calling out: "Gather your tissues! Princess has got her sob story! Where's the popcorn?".

I dropped my gaze to my feet and resisted the urge to frantically toy with my thumb ring or to tug at my ear lobe. I shouldn't be here. I didn't belong here with them. Why had I agreed to come?

I felt Carrie's fingers pinch the fabric of my jacket sleeve and tug me to stand inside the door. "Come in when you're ready," she said in monotone after shutting the door firmly behind me. "Don't run." She then walked briskly away into her home towards the voices of protest that were fighting in the lounge. I really shouldn't be here.

I hung my coat on the stand and slowly removed my boots to reveal my Cookie Monster socks. I took my time to set my boots upright and to straighten the fabric of my coat all while the yelling persisted. How could I stay here? Their raised voices made my memory play with my supposedly suppressed memories of my parents fighting and yelling at each other, now making my whole body shiver in disgust. How could I walk into an argument about me? I'd have to.

I took a brave step towards the lounge as I bit on my courage to stop it from abandoning me.

The view I was greeted with looked homely at first glance, but shock was what I felt the most when my brain fully registered the scene. Carrie had moved from inviting me in to sit regally on the arm of the main sofa which was facing away from me as I entered. All three of the other seats on this sofa were occupied whilst the other chairs were abandoned. I'd expected to see everyone in the YouTube friendship group here and yet I was instead welcomed by the hostility of only Mia, Dan, Chris, and Carrie. Or at least, it looked like them judging by the backs of their heads.