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Late Night Laundry

California angst to fluff? 

Yeah, it doesn't need another part, but I have a faint idea to make a part two with a ship added to it, but I don't know what ship I want to do. Ship suggestions are welcome. 

May be projecting a bit, but I liked this idea and I now head-cannon that Cali does laundry as a stress reliever. May be poorly written bc it's a bit late (Started at 11:27pm finished 12:42am) and I can't sleep.

Warnings! Brief mention of self-harm, self-deprecating thoughts (Let me know if I miss anything, please and thank you)

~~~~~

He sat on the hard wood floor in front of his mirror, silently watching his reflection as he picked at the loose threads on the bottom of his jeans. His left leg was pulled close to him as he used it to lean his head on his knee. Every little movement he made caused him to think of another thing wrong with himself, already losing count of everything he took a mental list of. 

His hair looked too messy, he had barely visible ache scars at the top of his forehead that his beany and hair covered, his skin was paler than he wanted it to be during the late winter early spring, his lips were chapped from biting and licking at them out of nervous habit, his fingers were too boney, he wasn't skinny or built enough, the list continued even as minor as they seemed it got to him. He let out a sigh. 

Gods Cali! Why can't you be better?! California moved his hands up to rub his eyes, doing so caused strange shapes and colors to move around behind his eye lids. He quickly stood up needing some sort of distraction, laundry... that always worked, didn't it? 

The nation state made his way towards the laundry room, three hampers full of clothes that belonged to a number of different states. No one ever did laundry until they physically had too, which meant he'd be able to distract himself for long enough he might tire himself out. 

The golden state slipped off his flannel, placing it onto the doorknob before deciding to put on quiet music and opened the two small windows in the room to let in some of the chill night air. The sight of the faded lines scattered across his arms made him pause for only a moment as the feeling of guilt rose to his throat, he swallowed it down and grabbed the first hamper and poured the mix of clothes into the washer. 

Soon enough, he was listening and swaying to the soft music as the night air kissed his skin so softly that goose bumps remained on his skin for what felt like forever, although he didn't mind the fresh feeling. California leaned into the window waiting patiently for the washer to ding signifying the clothes were done. 

He closed his eyes, enjoying the perfect feeling of peace that had spread through every joint in his body. The music played from song to song, time flying by faster and faster with nothing ever sticking to his brain. He didn't need to actually think during moments like these and it made everything that much better. 

The soft ding caused California to slowly open his eyes, quickly moving the wet clothes to the drier. Every movement made easily smooth with everything natural to him now; If any state were to see him, they would say his steps and turns all looked like a fluid dance of some sort. He loaded the drier, making sure it was running before turning and moving the second hamper of clothes into the washer. A smile naturally made its way to his face, not forced, just settled there like second nature. 

A sigh left his mouth, a content one where he felt like nothing was wrong. He didn't understand how life could be so harsh at moments yet so perfect in times like this. He wasn't going to wonder now, maybe it would cross his mind before going to bed when he usually wasn't able to sleep because of thoughts like such. 

Not wanting to wake up any of the states from the outside air, he moved and shut one of the windows, leaving the other one open for the fresh air and calm feeling it brought him. The drier dinged as he locked the window, the washer following suit after only a minute. 

Instead of just moving the warm clothes into a basket for people to dig through, California found himself sorting through and folding them. It wasn't like it was impossible to tell whose clothes were whose, but it was times like this he was glad DC made everyone label their clothes by their initials on the tags. 

Sorting and folding clothes was the most peaceful feeling of laundry, the warm fabrics in his hands as he made different piles for each state. It looked like these clothes were just from a few of the Northeast states. Well, the Northeast states that didn't just do their own laundry because of trust issues. He remembered the last argument the group had when clothes got sorted wrong. 

In all honesty, anyone else in the state house would've just talked it out or dealt with it. Not the Northeast though. Five of them had a few of their shirts switched around, and the fight got so bad DC made the labeling rule and the rule that Florida wasn't allowed to do the laundry without supervision that wasn't Louisiana. 

Before he knew it, the clothes were folded and sorted. California shook his head at the memory, he looked fondly on it because Florida had been doing laundry all that week just to mess with other people's clothes. At one point even turning all the south's white shirts, including Louisiana's and his own, to pink. Actually, he liked that one, it made Texas furious. He giggled remembering Texas's cherry red face while chasing Florida around with a pink shirt in hand. 

The next load of laundry was started by the time he finally let the thought go. This time just sitting crisscross on the floor letting his body relax while he waited. Just simple memories that reminded him of why he was staying in the statehouse in the first place floated around like bubbles in his head, occasionally one would metaphorically pop, and he'd fixate on it for a bit. This is what he continued to do even as he switched finished up the laundry. 

He thought about how he was glad that he had done this as he finished up the last of the folding before standing up and setting the hampers in one another, choosing to let someone else get it. Once in his room, he flopped onto his bed moving his beany off his head as he ran a hand through his hair. He groaned realizing he had left his flannel in the laundry room, "Fuck..." He mumbled to himself before just deciding he'd get it in the morning. 

What time even was it? He checked his watch, 4:07am. It was going to be a long day. He ignored that thought, pulling himself into the comfortable blankets. Changing was out of the question, he was already half asleep before the thought even crossed his mind. Eventually, in less than what must've been a few minutes, he was out cold. Finally asleep. 

Hope you enjoyed this read, have a wonderful day/night!

-August