Reclusive- s.r

six

In my haze last night, I must have forgotten to set an alarm, which led to me sleeping in this morning. If I were to get up, I wouldn't have made it to my first class anyways, so I decide to take the day off and give myself one single work day to recuperate. Tomorrow, I'd be up and running again, working on my normal schedule again, powering through until winter break comes, then two weeks of pure bliss, relaxation, and best of all, no Spencer Reid.

I shut my laptop off and set it in the corner of my room, on a chair covered in, you guessed it, books. When Celeste knocks on my door, I tell her I'm staying home today, and she asks me why, only to receive a vague response. If I told her about me fainting yesterday, she would put me on house arrest and that's the last thing I need right now. The only other person there to see it was Spencer, and I doubt he'll go blabbing about it to her.

Of all the people it had to be, of course it was him who happened to be right there, having to nurse me back into a semi-normal state. He even went as far as to buy me dinner, which was nice, but unnecessary. When I get like that, I'm in one of the worst, most vulnerable positions I could ever be in. The only people who know about it are my roommates, family, and a few selected friends whom I'm very close with.

It makes me weak. It lets people get a glimpse into my life, that I'm not as strong or as smart as I try to be. It shows people that no matter how hard I work, no matter how high the number is on the paper, that I'll still never feel good enough. That's a part of me I never want anyone to have to see, and especially not him. He's been my rival for most of my university career, and if it were up to me, I'd never let him see that vulnerable part of me, because around him my walls are higher than ever, my facade the strongest.

As a woman in STEM, the pressure to prove myself is higher than ever. In a predominantly male class, I'm already at a disadvantage as it is, and I make no apologies for the ways I've had to claw my way up to the top. Countless nights up in the library, crying over my textbooks and contemplating whether to give up completely. But I never did, and I'm still here, and I'm going to do all that I can to make sure I succeed.

My phone rings on the nightstand and I pick it up to see my mother's name on the screen. I had texted her earlier to let her know what was going on, assuring her not to worry about me, which was stupid because I should have known she would do the exact opposite. I answer the phone and hear her voice come through, making me feel instantly homesick.

I can practically smell the fresh bread in the oven, or walking into the kitchen to see my father making pasta from scratch on the kitchen counter, my mother scolding him for the mess. I can practically see my baby photos plastered wherever you look, and the fact that although the house is small, it's still my home and I love it. And right now, I'm missing it more than ever.

"Vega, ma petite étoile, how are you? Are you alright, dear?"

Ma petite étoile. My little star.

The nickname I acquired when I was a baby, the very same one that still follows me around to this day. My father had a knack for astronomy, so when he suggested that I be named after the brightest star in the northern constellation, Lyra, my mother loved it. It's why I have a tattoo of the Lyra constellation on my ankle, Vega being the largest star there. It hurt like a bitch, but I don't regret it whatsoever.

"I'm doing fine, Ma. Just tired," I admit. It's true, I've been so tired lately, but I've tried to push through it all, sleep and basic self care being on the bottom of my priority list as of late.

Now that I'm sure the house is empty, I grab the phone and make my way downstairs into the kitchen, making myself two slices of toast and sitting on the counter while I wait.