tw: panic attacks, deep mentions of anxiety - if you can't read, message me: i'll let you know what went on. take care of yourselves everyone x
❀ J U L I A ❀
A feeling of comfort washed over me as soon as I stepped foot in the music store. In the last few months, it had quickly become the next best thing to the coffee shop I previously spent my hours in, and my sparse part-time job at the place had turned into a nearly full-time one. I wasn't complaining. Even if I had given up on writing music, I was at least surrounded by it, and that was enough.
The dark-haired figure at the counter glanced up at my arrival, and I knew from the willowy stature that it belonged to Aurora's younger sister, Aurelia. The girl in question was only a year younger than me, but her pale skin, natural flush and high, pronounced cheekbones gave her an ethereal sort of beauty that made her appear younger than she really was. She was the kind of person you wouldn't normally find beautiful but looked twice at nonetheless, and the only thing disrupting her delicacy were the dark purple bags that lay underneath her grey eyes.
I learned quickly that the heavy, contrasting circles were one of her more prominent features. In the few times I'd gotten to know her they always seemed to be a noticeably permanent resident on her face, and today seemed to be no exception. I tried to my best to ignore them, and the brunette greeted me with a simple smile before becoming immersed in the sketchbook in front of her.
"Aurora's got you working today?" I finally asked, settling my bag on the counter. A familiar song I quickly recognized to be Long Way Home drifted softly over the speakers, and I closed my eyes briefly. He seemed to be everywhere lately, appearing whenever I tried to erase him from my memory.
"Hmm?" Aurelia's head snapped up a few seconds too late as if she was finally registering that I had said something, and she blinked several times before placing her pencil down. "Sorry," She mumbled softly, seeming much more morose than she usually was. "Aura has her on babysitting duty, so I came here right after my class ended. "
She held her hands in the air by way of explanation. Looking closely, I then noticed the charcoal that streaked her fingertips, so black that it appeared as if she had dipped her finger into a pool of liquid darkness. Additionally, blotches of dried pastel coloured paint stained her palms and overall gave the impression that she had attempted an abstract art piece on her body. The sight didn't surprise me as much as it should've considering I'd seen familiar sights on Aurelia many times before, and I knew she was an art student at a nearby university.
"It's a mixed media project," She explained. I didn't quite understand what that was, but I had the growing feeling that the brunette wasn't up for discussing art terms with me. Instead, I simply nodded, moving to join her on the other side of the counter and occasionally struggling to peek a glance at her sketch from over her shoulder. She shifted her hands each time, and I finally settled for tracing abstract patterns into the scratched wooden counter.
The hours passed by in painful silence, people trickling in and out of the store every once in a while. I resisted the urge to tap my fingers on the counter for fear of disturbing Aurelia, but I couldn't seem to quell the sick, constant feeling of nerves in my gut and the noise in my head. I wondered if I'd done something to make her upset at me, was I being nosy? The thoughts were an all-too familiar occurrence, but it didn't make it any less bearable.
"Look, I'm sorry."
Aurelia's voice jarred the mess of thoughts that resided in my brain, and I was grateful for the distraction. I searched my mind and couldn't fathom why she would have anything to be sorry for, and my confusion must have reflected on my features for she further explained.
"If I'm being rude or sullen, I don't mean to. I'm just..." She trailed off shakily, and for once I didn't see Aurelia as the ethereal being I'd previously described her as. Instead, I simply saw her, and she looked-
"Tired." I finished, finally noticing the severity of the dark circles that seemed to envelop her entire face, the red underneath her eyes that made it appear as if she hadn't slept soundly for years. And then the familiar, churning, restless fear that had made a home in my brain reminded me that maybe I wasn't the only one dealing with inner demons that made everything seem so ugly and dark and kept you awake with burning eyes wishing so bad you could close.
"Yeah," The slight waver in her voice led me to believe that the source of her exhaustion wasn't simply a result of going to bed too late. "That's exactly it."
No more words were spoken between us, and I didn't fail to notice how her hands shook when she picked up her pencil again.
❀❀❀
The nerves followed me home. And then they followed me the day after that, and the day after that, until I became so overcome with them that they invaded my mind and I couldn't concentrate on anything else.
My brain felt like one of those crappy fluorescent lights that emitted that incessant buzzing noise, except the buzzing never ceased and instead grew stronger with each passing day. And then I found myself on the floor, listening to the voicemails Ashton had left me, clenching my hands together in between murmured apologies and breathing heavily every time his voice cracked.
Somehow I felt so much worse instead of better, because hearing him in pain didn't bring me any satisfaction; it only affirmed that I hadn't moved on like I'd hoped. And then I was sobbing, because everything I'd tried to put behind me had only succeeded in piling up until I couldn't ignore the crushing weight I was carrying on my shoulders.
I hated that I didn't know why I was like this - why I couldn't seem to turn my mind off and why the overwhelming fear that shadowed me never seemed to cease, and why even the most irrational of things could follow me around for days. I hated the constant nausea that came with it, the sleepless nights that were the result of my brain in overdrive, the feeling of always being out of control of my own life.
Most of all, I hated that I could never, ever escape this.
I barely heard Rachel's voice shouting my name, barely saw her figure rushing towards me. She sounded muffled, like I was underwater, which was fitting considering it felt like I was drowning again. The blurry image of her was broken up by black spots dotting my vision, and before I knew it, I was falling, falling, falling.
The dark abyss swallowed me whole.
❀❀❀
i hate to leave you all on this stereotypical cliffhanger, but it must be done. tbh, i haven't been feeling well lately; i'm currently sick as i type this + admittedly, i haven't been the best mentally either. school has been causing a lot of stress lately + i've been having these breakdowns and stuff so i apologize in advance because as of now, you won't be seeing many frequent updates from me.
i forced myself to at least finish this chapter bc tomorrow (in four hours if we're being precise) is my birthday!! i figured i should surprise you guys with a birthday update.
also, i cannot stress how important it is to not romanticize anxiety, + mental illness in general. it is not pretty, trust me. it is not cute. it is literally one of the most awful things you can live with + is not something to take lightly. please don't make it out to be this quirky thing to further your plot. dt to @taintedhood bc she actually messaged me and asked if i was alright, which really meant a lot to me. thank you.
i love you all, vote/comment/etc
-rach xo
YOU ARE READING
stutter » a. irwin
Fanfiction[one] in which a drummer and a songwriter find common interest in a coffee shop - along with something more that neither of them could have ever expected.
