Helium Deflates REVAMPED

Regret and Remorse

All these useless notes won't save me anyhow, yet I still have hope that maybe you're still reading them.

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Warning, the following content you will be reading will contain these contents below.
Please read carefully to avoid triggers.

- Panic Attacks
- Alcohol
- Relapsing

If these topics make you uncomfortable, uneasy, or trigger you in any way, please remove/refrain yourself from reading any further.
Your mental health matters more than a book.

Also hey lol sorry for not posting any helium deflates content I've been struggling with a lot but you know that'll be ok I pull through in the end.

(Note: just know that a lot of us were taking turns on writing so it's sloppy. We also don't have art yet for this chapter. It's still in the makings. Expect that soon.)

This chapter was edited
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OJ stood in the kitchen, sitting at the island that was placed in the middle of the room. He had a stool to sit on. Papers scattering the surface area with red scribbles drawn over them. OJ hung his head into the palm of his hands and pinched the bridge of his nose, his glasses pushed his glasses on top of his head. Letting out a heavy sigh, he glanced over to his left, staring at the cabinets with slight hesitation before getting up and walking over. A hand moving to the handles before retreating them behind his back as he heard a familiar voice.

"Morning OJ." Baseball's drained and sleepy tone echoed slightly in the room.
OJ faced Baseball and slowly folded his arms.

"Oh, Hey Baseball. Sleep alright?"
Baseball let out a slight mocking chuckle at this.

"Hardly, I woke up to mutters and the door being wide open so the hallway light kept shining in my eyes. I also kept hearing thrashing and clanging." The red head grumbled, but shook his head and slightly smiled.
"But other than that I did sleep a little bit better than most nights. Probably because Nickel wasn't there to constantly wake me up with his sleep talking."
OJ gave Baseball a smile in return.

"Ah well, that's good to hear." OJ moved back to his sitting area, gathering his papers and stacked them neatly on top of each other.
"Is there a reason why Nickel wasn't in your guy's room?" He raised an eyebrow, not facing the man that now hovered over his shoulders. Baseball was silent.

"I was actually— gonna ask you that."

"What do you mean? He hasn't- returned?"
OJ suddenly faced Baseball with slight concern.
Baseball shook his head.

"No, he didn't even let me know why he did. All I remember was turning over and him talking to someone at the door before leaving it wide open."

OJ stared for a moment, "That's unlike him. He usually doesn't leave the hotel unless we bicker him for groceries."
Baseball only shrugged.

"I'm worried, I tried texting and calling but saw he didn't even bring his phone, left it on his bed."

"Why would he—"

Their conversation was suddenly put to a holt, Trophy walking in with a grouchy face.

"OJ what the hell man?! I thought you handled the raccoon situation!" He glared at the fruitful drink, standing infront of the two.
But all OJ could do was give a confused face, rubbing his face and shook his head.

"Trophy, what are you going on about I handled that several months ago."

"Apparently not! I walked into the weight lifting room only to see a punching bag ripped wide open! It was like a bear was trying to wrestle with the damn thing I had to pick up all the shit that was left behind!"