Wake Up; Stay Awake

Tired and Drowsy

Warning on this chapter for:
- Mentions of past death
- Implied Self-Harm
- Self-hate talk

The irritating chirping of birds was all Mephone could hear as he buried his face in his pillow. The comforting weight of the covers over him being his only solice.
He couldn't move.
No matter how he moved his head, or changed position, he just couldn't muster the strength to get up. Which, was not only a bother,- but he couldn't even get to his phone.

What time even was it?

Mephone squinted, and lifted the cover partially off of his head slowly, peeking out to take a look at the window- or, the curtains that were drawn over said window.
Sunlight was shining through the gap in the fabric.
Grunting, Mephone pulled the navy blue cover back over him.
Squeezing his eyes shut, he attempted to drift off again; only to fail miserably.
He couldn't deal with being awake a second longer. His thoughts nagged at him, giving him a migraine.

What was he doing with his life right now?

What would he think..?

Mephone twitched at that, bringing his hands to cover his ears- his fingers getting entangled in his mess of brown-blue hair.
The pull hurt a little bit. When was the last time he'd brushed his hair?
He forgot.

Pathetic.

He sucked air in through his teeth.
Why was he thinking like that?
His thoughts weren't even his anymore. At times, they would just start to criticise him and his behaviour, even if he's doing something as little as laying in bed.
Like right now.

A buzz coming from his nightstand startled him, ripping him from the sea of dark thoughts.
His phone.

He only lifted his head, letting the cover fall, and he only caught a glimpse of the screen before it turned dark and he had no more strength to hold his head up.
Hitting back against the pillow, his eyes were barely open- but open enough to see that his door was ajar. A small line of light making it's way into his room- illuminating the mess.
The clothes piled up on the floor, his chair,- the countless empty bottles in the very corner of his room...

Disgusting.

He squeezed his eyes shut once more. He wasn't... disgusting, was he...?
Maybe he was.

Huffing in frustration, he made a weak attempt at sitting himself up. Only then did it come to mind.
How long had he been sleeping.. or.. well, in his bed for?

His hair was very tangled, and only thinking about how bad it was made him feel angered and upset. His hair was one of the only things he actually didn't mind about himself.

One of the only things left of his brother.

Through the brown and blue, some red streaks were noticeable. Most near his roots.

Just before his eyes shut completely again, he realised he lost track of thought.
His phone went off. A notification? From what?

Despite his curiosity, his body failed him- and he couldn't find any motivation to get up and check it.
It was probably just another random negative comment on the show, anyway.
And moving his left arm hurt a lot, anyway. He remembered what he did recently.
The dark blue oil stains were still visible on the sheets...

He let his eyes close. Maybe if he just slept it off, it'd be fine.

Then, another interruption. Except, this time he couldn't ignore it.

A creaking noise filled the stuffy silence of his room, and then a gentle, yet concerned voice replaced it.

"Hey... you in here?"