Disarm / Rafe Cameron

14. I'm A Giver, He's the Moon

I'm A Giver, He's the Moon
chapter xiv
warnings: self harm,
mentions of suicide

             
        LAYNE WAKES UP the next morning to hear the rain dripping off the roof right outside her window. Despite the fact that it had stormed so hard the night before, the sky was still bright, the sun high over the trees and clouds. Luna was still curled up in her bed, sound asleep, and Layne catches herself staring out the window. She could hear her parents rummaging around in the kitchen, and when she went to turn on the lamp beside her bed to see if the power was back on, it didn't click on. Her fans weren't oscillating and she was covered in a thick film of sweat, matting her hair to her forehead that had been pulled back into a messy ponytail.

Layne rested a hand on her forehead and groaned when she tried to lift it off the pillow. She had cried so much last night she wasn't sure if she had any liquids left in her body—it was almost like the rain pouring from the skies was equivalent to the tears that had cascaded down her cheeks the night before. For a moment yesterday, Layne felt OK. But it seemed like the weight of their break up was especially hard right now. Glancing down at her arm, there was dried blood from where she had bit down on herself the night before. The wimpy band aid she had to keep putting over that particular part of her body was brown with blood and she peeled it off with a hiss. There were red and painful teeth marks in the wake of it, that she tenderly touched.

"Fuck." she muttered to herself, pushing her head back down on the pillow and resting her hands over her face. The skin around her eyes was dry from wiping away her tears and she rubbed aggressively until some eyelashes came off. Layne wasn't even sure if she had cried that much during a good majority of the times that they had fought before. Part of her felt guilty, maybe—that she shouldn't have been talking and hanging out with Matty. But her and Rafe weren't together anymore. She shouldn't care, but she did. His voicemail only made her even more upset.

Rolling over with a groan, Layne tried to plug her phone into the charger, but nothing happened. There was still no power, and when she peeked out of the window to look outside, trees and branches were strewn all over the yard—the marsh was a mess littered with debris from the storm. Even with the sun peeking out and being as orange as ever, there was still thunder rumbling in the distance, as if the storm wasn't completely done yet and wanted to assert its dominance on the towns it was going to ravish next. Layne was shocked that their house hadn't flood.

Layne dragged her feet on the ground as she tried to leave her room—nearly tripping over some objects strewn on the ground that she must have knocked over in her feeble attempt to run onto her bed last night. Her head hurt as though she were hungover, and her whole body felt that way too—as though she had drank more than her body weight the night prior and was waiting to collapse. Her eyes weren't adjusting to the dimness of the house, as the windows were still boarded shut.

"You scared me." Rory jumped, and Layne only briefly smiled to herself. "Sorry." she whispered, leaning against the counter. Kurt was trying to pry the boards off the windows, letting the orange sunlight peek through the blinds. "Agatha was a bitch." he grunted, throwing the boards on the ground with a thump. Layne jumped and Rory handed her a granola bar. Layne looked at it with distaste.

"It's thing we have that didn't spoil." she shrugged, taking a sip out of a water bottle. Layne flickered a smile at her and nodded her head, gingerly peeling the wrapper off the sticky granola. The chocolate was halfway melted because the scalding conditions of the house, and Layne tried to redo the pony tail that was sticking to the nape of her neck. Luna stretched out across the kitchen counter, purring gently, and Layne reached out her hand to let her fur run underneath her fingers.