ᴅᴏɴᴛ ʙʟɪɴᴋ // ...

// 𝒰𝓃𝑒𝓍𝓅𝑒𝒸𝓉𝑒𝒹 //

I plunged my head between the two decorative pilllows on my couch. My head felt a bizarre throbbing that made myself want to split in two. 

My mother, who was watching me with her unsympathetic eyes from the kitchen inferrred that I'd probably caught a cold.

"You were literally riding your bicycle for hours out in the rain, what did you expect?" She'd said, making annoying tsk noises. I lifted an eyebrow at her direction, seeing that she had busied herself with shaping together cookie-dough. The scent of them wafted in my direction and I lifted my head to watch her lay down the last of the dough on a tray. 

"Are those for me?"

"Bake-sale." She answered, washing her hands at the sink and drying them on her plaid-apron. Well her cookies tasted mawkish anyways.

I snaked my way between the pillows, raveling myself with a blanket, and digging my head as far as I could inside the cushions.

"I want a cat." I said robotically.

"And I want a helpful daughter." She answered back smoothly, not looking up from delivering the tray of cookies into the oven.

"I am."

She merely ambled over to me to ruffle the pillows in place, and pointed at the piling dishes.

"Ugh."

"You have no idea." She rolled her eyes, pinching my cheeks, to which I squirmed away furtively.

"No I'm seriously sick. I think I'm gonna - bleh." I displayed myself throwing up dramatically.

"We'll see what Corbin thinks."

"Don't call him over. He's the worst."

"Too late." 

I rolled over on the couch, falling face flat on the ground. My chin was buried underneath the turfy-length multicolored rug underneath me. I heaved myself up, feeling a sharp object prodding my stomach. One of my quarter read copies of Macbeth was wounded half-open on the ground, a few sentences catching my eyes. 

"Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player that struts and frets his hour upon stage-"

I knocked the script over, rolling myself with the blanket. Although mom said it had stopped raining a long time ago, I still felt a chill in my bones that I couldn't seem to get rid of.

My mind wandered to Corbin and I let out an audible groan. He had been my childhood friend ever since 3rd grade, no cheesy backstory there. Now that I thought about it, we had never started off as friends. 

He'd constantly bug me before and after class, even walking me to school each day to tease me about my clothes, or how thin I was. I'd constantly try to get rid of him, but he'd always be there awaiting for my presence so he could start babbling about his personal life. 

However in the 6th grade Corbin changed completely. He gained several inches, grew out his hair, and had a more muscular appearance. Even though he picked up in popularity, he would never stop coming to me.

It helped that I'd knew him for years. I knew all his secrets: that he was 4'11 in 5th grade, how he wore nerdy glasses, that he was a sucker for Debussy instead of standard rock like the other boys.

Even so, I'd always seen him as an annoying lanky brother that wouldn't get off my back.

I gazed back at the cover of 'MacBeth' furrowing my eyebrows.

"What are you looking at?"