Seven Deadly Sins

Gluttony

Some might call it being 'selfish'. I just call it 'dealing with myself'.
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The wind is actually a bit cold way up here. I snuggle deeper into my only protection from the wind: my hoodie. My fingers are really cold as well; I cup my hands and blow my warm breath into them. There, that's a bit better.

I can feel the blood pumping through my body, rushing down my legs and to my feet. Swinging them, I'm able to keep my feet slightly warm, and keep from getting swollen from the blood rush.

Roofs are more quiet than everyone says. No one ever really goes into detail how serene they really are. The higher up you are, the quieter it is. More time to think. To process what you're doing up there.

I fall back against the cold concrete of the roof, pulling my legs up with me. I roll over and curl into a ball. Sleep comes quickly, like a tidal wave, washing over me, encompassing me wholly.
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I don't really know where I am. I know I'm in America; I came to visit for a few days after PAX Prime. It's cold up here in Seattle in late August; I never really payed attention to the coldness before, but now I feel every fluctuation in temperature.

I mean I don't know where I am as of right now. I had been wandering the streets late last night, not heading in any specific direction. My legs tingled with pain from the friction of my jeans, my arms feeling the same against my hoodie sleeves. Cutting is easy now. It's almost therapeutic or relaxing to me. It makes me feel sane.

I had been walking for quite some time when I suddenly came across a tall building; maybe a hotel, or an office building of some kind. I didn't know, and I didn't really care what it was. I also don't know why I decided I needed to see the view from the top. The front doors were locked; the building must've been closed. I went around to the side of the building. I found a ladder easily; I think it's supposed to be a fire escape, but I am escaping, in a way. From myself, that is. And life. And just... everyone.

I'm so tired. Tired of people. Of family. Of friends. Of myself. No one's really there for me; friends made themselves scarce, and I didn't live anywhere near my family anymore. Especially in America, so far away from my home country, I had no one. I hadn't told anyone in America how I was doing; I didn't think they'd care. I was alone.

I made my way up the ladder slowly, but at a steady pace. It was hard to climb with my arms in the state they were in, but I made it, somehow. I made it to the roof in some time (I never really kept time anymore, there wasn't any point; I knew my time was limited anyway).

My legs carried me over to the edge of the roof, immediately climbing up onto the ledge. Looking down only confirmed how high up I was; it also confirmed my fear of heights.

I don't know how long I stood there, but it was hours upon hours. Dawn has come and gone, along with all my fight. I stepped down from the ledge, replacing my feet with my butt. I sat there, and there I stayed until I fell asleep.
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I woke up on something soft. It definitely wasn't the hard concrete roof I fell asleep on. I could feel my heartbeat pick up as panic set in. Where am I? Am I dead? Is this Heaven? Hell?

No, I'm not dead. Cracking open my eyes, I realize where I am. I've never been here before, but I recognize the room from the vlog. The realization crashed down on me suddenly, and I had one thought: "I'm in Mark's hotel room, on his bed."

Fully opening my eyes now, blinking a few times to readjust to the light, I could make out some things in his room. For example, Mark himself was lying next to me on his belly, shirtless, legs tangled helplessly in the sheets. His room was mostly empty, save for a small bookshelf lined with a few books, a lounge chair; I think it's called a 'chaise'? Whatever that language is. There wasn't much else in the room except for a bathroom off to one side, a door presumably leading to the hallway, and a large walk-in closet across from the bathroom.

Flinging the sheet off of me, I sat up and swung my sore legs over the other side of the bed. I realized I wasn't wearing my jeans; Mark must've taken them off for me. He also must've taken off my hoodie as well; I can see them folded neatly on the chaise. I had so many questions, my main ones being: "How did I get here all the way from the roof?" and, "Did Mark see my sliced body?" He must've, I suppose.

Standing and making my way over to the bathroom, I thankfully didn't wake Mark, although I did earn a small snore from him. The sound brought a little grin to my face for some reason.

Finishing in the bathroom, I shuffled back to his bed, stopping at the window for a second. Peeking out the curtain, I saw the sky was dark; it was the next night. I wasn't hungry, and Mark was still asleep; I had no where to be, so I layed back down as softly as I could. I immediately curled into Mark's side; I didn't really have a choice, though. His large frame made a dip in the bed, causing my smaller body to roll towards him. I didn't mind, though. He was warm, and made me feel safe when I was with him. I fell asleep quickly and slept soundly.
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A/N - yay Markimoo! #warfstache