𝐋𝐢𝐚𝐫, 𝐋𝐢𝐚𝐫 | 𝐉𝐉 𝐌𝐚𝐲𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐤

37. post-traumatic down syndrome.

T H I R T Y - S E V E N
post-traumatic down syndrome.

I'm pacing. Sarah is glaring.

"Are you not exhausted?" She asks, covering a yawn with her hand.

I must be looking like I just escaped a mental institution. My hair is undoubtedly knotty from the salty water I didn't wash out, instead of my shirt that got soaked by the theatrics of last night, I'm in one of Topper's shirts that smells too expensive. It also is so soft it feels like it's going to fall off and I'll flash the island.

It's not like they haven't seen it all before, although I'd like to keep some dignity.

Thinking about my answer, I realise no, I'm not tired. I'm far, far too wound up to even feel slightly tired. "Nope. Not tired. I need to find my idiot and tell him he's an idiot. Then, we need to figure out how to get your idiot out of prison. After that, I need to go back to my idiot and tell him we are now an actual couple, then promptly inform him he's sleeping on the sofa for one night because how fucking dare he!" I further annoy myself. "For one, he shouted at me. That's not okay. I'm not going to date someone who shouts at me instead of having a rational conversation. And secondly, I'm pretty sure I like him way more than I ever liked Rafe–"

"That, my dear Francesca, is called love. You love him, and that's okay," Sarah cuts off my ramblings.

My pacing stops. Slowly I turn on my heels to face her. "Nope. Not ready to entertain that thought. One thing at a time." Finally, I walk and sit next to Sarah. "You've seen Kie and me, have you noticed anything weird? Is it something I'm doing?"

I know my brain well, I've spent countless hours having it picked over by professional after professional. I have a few favourite methods to keep myself semi-sane, and most aren't healthy. I enjoy numbing the pain; whether that be with pills or alcohol or sex, anything that takes me out of the moment. I'll go full-on denial, refusing to even speak of whatever fucked up event happened. That was how most of my relationship with Rafe went, I just pretended it wasn't fucked up and kept it moving. Finally, I pretend that it just isn't a big deal.

Rafe tried to drown me? Not the first time he's done something insane; no reason to kick up a fuss!

This, of course, only works for so long. After it hits, I will then move on to either drugs or actually speaking about what happened. And, what's insane to think about, is that I wouldn't mind talking it out with JJ. Putting all my cards on the table, having him give awful advice I immediately discard, threats of killing Rafe I get closer and closer to accepting, and then watching Grey's Anatomy until I knock out.

"She's been... distant. I don't know if it's because of all that's unfolded, if it's because of the situation with Pope or what." She turns to face me, a croissant pinched between her fingers.

I stand up again, racking my brain to figure out a reason it's all gone so wrong so quickly. We've been friends for a decade, how has it all fallen apart so quickly? A relationship I've treasured, one I thought would last a lifetime is on the rocks. I fucking refuse to let it explode, enough in my life is changing, and I need my best friends to be my rocks. 

Me, Sarah and Kie are a triangle, which is obviously the strongest shape, therefore we need to stay like that.

Pope, JJ, and John B are their own triangle.