Get Up by NewJeans
***
"Get up."
My voice came out flatter, more weary than I intended.
Hanni didn't even stir, her face buried in the mountain of pillows on her bed. I knew I shouldn’t repeat myself, knew it would make me sound desperate, pathetic even.
But the silence that followed was heavy, suffocating, and I hated the way it mirrored the hollowness in my own chest.
"Hanni," I tried again, softer this time, but the only response I got was the gentle murmur of her breathing. "Come on, we were going to watch that movie."
It was a lie.
We hadn't made any plans, not really. It was more like I had mentioned wanting to see it and she had, in that distracted way of hers, mumbled something that sounded vaguely like agreement.
Pushing myself off the wall I'd been leaning against, I ran a hand through my hair, frustration tightening its grip.
"Why is this so hard?" I muttered to myself, the words echoing emptily in the quiet room.
The question hung in the air, unanswered, just like all the others I kept bottled up inside.
I don't wanna fight your shadow.
The thought materialized in my mind, unbidden, and it was like a punch to the gut.
It was exhausting, always feeling like I was competing with a ghost, a figment of my own imagination, for Hanni's attention.
"Meet me back in five if I matter to you."
The words left my lips before I could stop them, harsh and desperate in the stillness.
I knew I shouldn't have said them, knew they reeked of childish ultimatum, but the frustration had been simmering for weeks, threatening to boil over.
Leaving her room, I stalked down the hallway, each step echoing my growing anger and resentment.
It wasn't just about the movie, not really.
It was about everything.
The way her eyes would glaze over when I spoke about my day, the absent-minded nods when I tried to share something exciting, the constant need to fight for even a sliver of her attention.
I collapsed onto the worn-out cushions of the living room couch, my gaze fixed unseeingly on the TV screen.
Minutes ticked by, each one a hammer blow to my already bruised hope.
Was I really that invisible? That insignificant?
Just when I was about to resign myself to another night of silent disappointment, I heard the soft padding of footsteps.
My head snapped up, a flicker of hope igniting in my chest. Hanni stood at the entrance of the living room, her hair tousled from sleep, eyes still slightly blurry.
She was wearing my blue hoodie, the one that was two sizes too big and hung on her frame like a borrowed dream.
“Hey,” she mumbled, her voice thick with sleep. There was a flicker of something in her eyes, a question maybe, or perhaps even the tiniest hint of apology.
“You came,” I said, my voice betraying the relief that flooded me.
She shuffled into the room, collapsing onto the couch next to me. Her head found its familiar spot on my shoulder, her weight a comforting pressure against my side.
