CLOUDY \\\ B.E. imagines

out

TW- harsh language (r-word)

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You shiver as you step through the door, feeling the cold air coming from the fan in the living room against your already-cold cheeks.

You've just gotten back from a study-session in the school library with some classmates, feeling content at the progress you'd made today.

You're a student at Columbia University, a college ranked as the most rigorous in America— and for good reason.

It's December, meaning final exams have just begun.

To say you're stressed is an understatement.

You can't remember the last full night of sleep you've gotten in the past three weeks, and studying really helps to ease your nerves.

You can't say the same about Billie, though.

Your dorm-mate, Billie O'Connell, is an absolute beast academically. She's only 17, but she's already in her last year of college for a Master's degree, having skipped grades K-4, starting 5th grade at age 6, finishing middle school at age 10, and doing her full four years of highschool plus earning a Bachelor's degree at Columbia University simultaneously by age 15.

She even ended highschool with a 5.0 GPA!

She's in six classes per semester, each one the hardest possible for the subjects, and you've always been amazed at her ability to balance life with that much on her plate.

She's hard on herself, and expectedly, exams are when that tends to come out the most.

Walking down the hall, you grab some water and pain killers for Billie, as she's prone to migraines from grinding her teeth subconsciously as she works.

You open the door to her room, only to pause abruptly.

The usually clean and organized room looks like a tornado has been through it, papers littering the floor and textbooks sprawled across her bed.

Before you can begin searching for Billie, you hear gagging come from her bathroom, causing you to rush into the small space.

"Billie, oh my goodness—"

You bend down beside her crumpled frame, holding her hair as she vomits into the toilet before her.

Her cheeks are sunken in, with her face pale and eyelids heavy as she takes deep breaths, clutching the collar of her shirt.

You silently hand her the pills and water, nodding as she thanks you, before swinging her head back to swallow.

"What's up? Anxiety?"

She clears her throat before speaking,

"Yeah. I'm just fucking frustrated. I'm gonna fail, Addy."

You frown, scoffing, before standing up and reaching your hand out to her, which she gladly accepts.

"That's bullshit and you know it. You're being way too hard on yourself, B. I literally studied with you yesterday and you recited every single formula for organic chemistry word for word. What's got you so worried?"

Billie's lip trembles and she shakes her head before sighing.

"I'm just– I don't know."

"What? There's something you're not saying. Have you been taking your meds?"

As everyone knows, with high-level intelligence comes immense mental strain.

Billie experiences severe psychosis, which she has medication for. She can fall into a pit of auditory hallucinations very easily, so it's important that she stays on top of her medication and weekly therapy sessions.

"Yes, I have, but I just forgot today. They're just... ugh... nevermind."

You walk her to her bed, scooting books over to make room for you both to sit, before holding her hands in yours gently.

"What are they saying, Bil? It's bothering you– I can tell."

"It's... It's not them. I was saying it to myself, calling myself a name, and they just keep repeating it."

"...What were you saying?"

She looks at you sadly, before squeezing your hands.

"I was just calling myself a retard. It's just how I feel right now."

You're taken aback from the harshness of the word, frowning at Billie in confusion.

"Billie, you're kidding, right?"

She shakes her head harshly, squeezing your hands harder as she lets out a harsh breath.

"No, Addy– I'm not. I'm fucking retarded. I'm so fuckin' stupid, so dumb. I can't retain anything at all, and in all honestly, it's embarrassing. I'm gonna fail, and then everyone's gonna make fun of the 'genius-turned-retard who got kicked out of Columbia University'."

You drop Billie's hands, scoffing before standing up.

"I am not gonna sit here and listen to you bully yourself. Are you kidding me? I've never met someone like you. You're a prodigy. And you need a break."

Pushing the papers on the floor aside, you make a path to the door, before pointing out towards the hall.

"Out. You're not allowed near any schoolwork 'til tomorrow morning. You can sleep in my room."

"N-No, you can't! What am I supposed to do? Where do I go? How do I study? W-What?!"

Your heart breaks at the desperation in her voice, as her eyes look back to her room longingly.

"We're gonna go out to the party downstairs, and you're gonna get drunk. No 'buts' or 'ifs'. I'll stay sober and make sure you're okay. Now get out missy, I'll grab you a sweatshirt."

She whines, before reluctantly going to stand outside the dorm while you grab her sweatshirt.

Locking the door, you guide her down the hall to the elevator.

"Thank you, Addy. I appreciate it."

You both walk into the elevator, and you press the 4th floor.

"Of course. Don't thank me though— I'm the person that's about to get you absolutely wrecked."

She laughs at that, and the sound echos through the space delightfully.

"Oh, I'll get you back— I'm so beating your ass tomorrow."

You walk out the elevator, turning back to smirk at the younger girl.

"Mhm, we'll see how that hangover is, William."

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955 words