Diligence [H.S.]

TEN

Chapter Song: TV by Billie Eilish

...

ANDREA WILSON

"Andrea...Come on, you gotta get up."

Please, leave me alone. Just let me sleep.

"It's past noon," Oliver's voice causes a ringing in my ear once again after being met with silence the first time, "I have to go to the store. Maybe after you eat something, you could come with me?"

His offer is a mere attempt at a poor, useless distraction. As if that would help me in the slightest. As if walking around a fucking grocery store with him would stop the pounding in my head and the ache radiating throughout my entire body. As if being outside of this apartment is what will suddenly cure me in their eyes.

I don't want to eat anything. I just want peace and quiet. To be alone, purely alone for a moment. Just to keep my eyes closed for a little while longer.

Please let me stay here.

"Andrea," he states again, this time with a gentle shake of my shoulder.

The contact makes my eyes snap open and I push him away before his touch can linger any longer. He notices the anger behind the harsh glare I have aimed toward him and his eyes soften. Regret flashes across his face, and I can tell my defensive, and slightly instinctual, behavior acts as a reminder of the state I returned to the apartment in last night.

Another pitiful stare. Just what I need right now.

All of the scattered memories of last night flash through my mind, making me temporarily distracted from the matter at hand.

Last night. Harry. He knows. Not everything, but enough.

No. I'm not thinking about that right now. Not with an oncoming migraine and absolutely nothing in my system.

"You don't need me to hold your fucking hand at Target," I snap. The sudden movements only amplify the current pain I'm in, and the maddening vertigo immediately follows, as usual. My hand raises to my forehead, pushing away my messy hair before my fingers rub my temples,  "I feel shit, just go. I won't go anywhere."

This time I meant it, but he wouldn't believe me.

"You told Jo you wouldn't leave last night."

Told you.

"I don't want to talk about last night," I grumble and plop back down onto the mattress under me. I turn over so my back faces him, but I know this conversation isn't over.

I close my eyes, wishing that if I pulled the covers over my head, I would disappear from this room. Along with the inevitable talk Oliver and Jo will want to have with me. That Harry will want to have. Fuck me, I wish I didn't wake up this morning. Then, at least, I wouldn't have to deal with this. Or any of the messes I've made in the past eleven months. Well, almost eight months to Jo and Oliver.

Please leave. Don't make me talk about it.

"You know what I'm going to say to that," he sighs, and he sits on the edge of the pull-out bed by my feet. "I don't think it's good for you to keep this in...or anything else in anymore."

I roll my eyes despite them being shut. Anytime I have tried to talk about how I feel, or what's going on in my mind, I haven't been heard. Jo and Oliver listen, but there hasn't been much of a true conversation between me and either of them for a long time. Rather than voice that, I have just accepted it for what it is because they are the sole reason I have a roof over my head right now. My mood may not always reflect it, but I am grateful for that. That doesn't make it any easier though, to constantly feel misunderstood and unheard.