Same trigger warnings as for the first part: selfharm, selfdestructive behaviour, depression
And again pls don't read if you're not comfortable with that.
It was already noon, and you had spent the whole day doing absolutely nothing but try to get a hold of your mind, when your phone rang again.
Your body immediately went rigid, freezing where you were laying just on the edge of the bed.
It was probably just some random number trying to sell you a useless kitchen supply or something like that.
So why would you answer it, right?
After a few minutes the phone stopped ringing and you immediately turned it on silent so that in case whoever kept calling you would call again, you wouldn't hear it.
If it actually was work - it was the weekend, you deserved your free time.
"Well, no", you mumbled to yourself, "I don't deserve anything"
But it was whatever to you. If they fired you because you didn't pick up the phone on a Sunday then you would have no one but yourseld to blame. It didn't register in your mind how unrational that thought was.
Your mind was only filled with self hate. Images of the way you saw yourself, the way you thought you behaved around other people and talked filling your mind. All of them making you want to bend your head down over the toilet.
At least Ashton was free from that now. He had probably already forgotten about you anyway.
You hadn't talked in so long and he was busy. With more important things.
Better things.
Your tear stained face shot up from where you had burried it in the pillows on your bed suddenly.
The doorbell was ringing.
Why would someone ring at your door on a weekend night?
You didn't have many friends and definitely none that cared about you to - ever - come visit you, much less spontaniously.
Maybe you should just ingore it, yes, you would ignore it.
But the bell wouldn't stop ringing. The annoying noises stopped for half a minute after every three rings, before it started again. And again. And again.
Who was this??
"Probably some stupid drunk person", you grunted, huffing and angrily wiping tears from your face, as you swung your legs over the edge of your bed.
You probably looked horrible in that moment, you thought to yourself, but whoever was at the door would have to deal with this right now. Maybe they'd leave because you'd scare them off.
The ringing still continued, so you unlocked the door carefully and opened the door. Just a tiny bit, barely enough to peek through.
A tall figure stood in front of your door, half in the shadows of the dim lights in the hallway of the flat you lived in. The half of the face that was not in the shadows made you want to disappear into thin air.
His hazel eyes were glistening, almost like he had been crying, too. His lips parted to speak, but that was when your panic fuly took over and you slammed the door shut.
This couldn't be real.
He was supposed to be in another country. What was he doing here?
Were you just dreaming? But you knew you weren't. You had once read that time and numbers in general never made sense in dreams and the clock on the opposite wall calmly ticked second by second, closer to 10pm.
