breathe | r lewandowski

17

"Did you take your pills?"

"No."

"Then here," Jagger threw my box of pills at my chest with quite some force, telling me more than enough to know that she was pissed off, "Take them."

I'd expected someone of such a caring nature like Jagger to have completely fallen at my feet after I'd told her about my illness, however after her initial reaction and the first couple of days, my assumption couldn't have been more wrong.

She wasn't any different with me in the slightest, apart from it seemed like she was PMSing every single day since she kept having to remind me to take my pills, and that got her annoyed.

On a regular day, Jagger would wake up early, make her coffee, ask me if I'd taken my pills - and then throw them at me because I hadn't - and then leave for work.

However today was different. After throwing my pills at me, which evidently wasn't going to change whatever day it was, Jagger crawled back into bed by my side, dressed in just a silk slip.

Her dark hair was in second dark curls and her face was fresh, a few freckles dotted the area across her dainty nose and the centre of her forehead. I had noticed that they only appeared when the sun came out, making her skin seem a lot more pale, resembling that of a lily flower petal.

Still half asleep after swallowing my medicine with a glass of water, my eyes flickered open at the sensation of Jagger's fingers dancing with the waistband of my boxers. I drew in a sharp breath, the transition of sense below the sheets startling me, my mind still half in dreamland.

Coughing as I tried to get some words out, however failing because my morning voice didn't exist in the wintertime due to catching a cold every year without fail, I felt Jagger's fingertips delve deeper, gracing skin that made me feel horny at a time so early I wasn't even remotely interested in having sex.

"Jagger-"

I pushed her hand away from my boxers, a frown falling onto her lips. She stared at me for a few moments, so much emotion in her eyes that it was practically impossible to read what she was thinking in the moment.

"A-am I bad?"

"What?" I said, pushing myself up from my reclined position so I was sat up with my head against the backboard of my bed.

"You're never in the mood anymore and it makes me think like I'm bad. I'm sorry if I am, but you could at least tell me instead of keeping me in the dark about it."

The way she looked down at herself, the way her eyes glared at her own skin and the way she looked disgusted at her flesh and bone made me feel sick to the stomach. Sure, I hadn't been in the mood to have sex for about a month or so. I was constantly tired and my mind was weighed down with so much that sex wasn't ever on my radar.

"Are you not attracted to me anymore or something? What can I do? I can't help the way-"

"Jagger, shut up." I laughed, making her crack a smile at my change in mood since I was normally just scowling for most of the day, which she had most likely become accustomed to.

"You are beautiful, the most beautiful woman in the whole world. And on top of that, you're incredibly good in bed, so don't think that's the case, alright?"

I wrapped my arm around her shoulders, pulling her down into my chest and letting her hair fall across my bare torso as her hand rest against my body, rising and falling in time with my breaths.

"I just don't feel up to it, it's not you at all."

I heavily contemplated going into detail about exactly how I felt, but I realised that me emptying me thoughts into a silver platter for her so deeply would simply make her thing I was pulling some sort of lie just to make her feel better, when that wasn't the case at all, but that's women for you.

"Okay."

Her reply was more or less nonexistent and the way she pulled herself from my arms left me cold and bare. She wouldn't believe me, truth or a lie, I had no chance in getting through to her. I didn't bother trying to justify myself any further, I just watched her get dressed and listened to her mumble a goodbye before she left.

I assumed that she wouldn't be coming back to my house after work that evening, and as the day went on, I wasn't wrong.

As the days passed by, I'd realised that the person I was before had completely disappeared and I was now someone that I didn't recognise, both inside and out. Aside from my lacking sex drive that was usually very high, I had become numb to humour, happiness and any kind of emotion that wasn't sadness.

The days seemed darker and yes, it was slipping into winter but in my mind, hours seemed like days and I longed for the evening to come so I could get back into bed again and just sleep the hours away, only to wake up and feel the same emptiness yet heaviness all at the same time, before it slowly crushed me throughout the day as I sat and did nothing, questioning myself constantly.

Mario had been coming over to see me now and again, letting me know what people were saying about me. I never really listened, I just invited him over so it reminded me that I wasn't completely alone in the world, since Jagger had slowly been loosing interest in me because I wouldn't fuck her. Which, if you ask me, was incredibly shallow of her. I listened to Mario's voice, not his words. His words were those of other people that simply did not care for me anymore, but his voice was soothing and relaxing and it put me at ease for some reason.

I enjoyed his company and for those few hours every week, I smiled and laughed and forgot that I was mentally ill. I felt normal again, I felt like I was spending time with a friend like everybody else does without even thinking twice about it. Normal. Yes, I could be normal, but only around people who treated me like I was normal.

Granted, Jagger did, but changes in me meant changes for her and sometimes she forgot that her bitterness made me resent myself for being who I was even more than I already did. But each time it happened, I told myself that she didn't understand and she couldn't help it, it was my fault.

Mario, however, was different. He spoke to me like we used to when I we first met and even though I'd been nothing but rude and ignorant towards him for the years in between then and now, when I needed him, he was there more than anybody else was. Nobody else understood me like Mario. He knew when I was feeling worse than usual and he wouldn't try to cheer me up, he would just sit there in silence with me, watching a movie. He also knew when I was having a better day than usual and he would embrace it and make sure that I got some fresh air and actually left the house when I had the mental capacity to bring myself to.

Mario had been my rock, Mario was the only thing that I felt I had to keep me going, as sane as possible. And Mario had helped me, so when I got the call that he had been emitted into Munich ER, I knew I had to help him too.