Procrastinators on Stage (Chris Kendall/crabstickz fanfic) *unedited*

Part 13- I Don't Like Seeing Him Sad

The sound of a page turning is by far my favourite sound in the entire world. Perhaps the only time I don’t relish the sound is in an examination hall, where someone else turns the next questions page over before you. That was why I currently felt blissful as I curled up in bed with my book.

The book’s pages felt silken between my fingers, the musty scent of the new print calming me despite the high emotions of the day. The perfectly aligned text was aesthetically pleasing in its equal margins which split this portal to another world apart. This world was enthralling me in its pages, blinding me to the real world as if a filter had been constructed especially for me. How is it that the arrangement of twenty six letters could either leave you crying, laughing, punching the air for joy or any other emotion for that matter? They’re only paper, ink and glue, for fuck’s sake!

Still, the least I could do for myself as a break from relearning my monologues and music choices for my call back was to read a little…

A sound very much like the gurgling of water from a faucet slowly rose to my ears. My eyes halted in the midst of a sentence (something which I’d consider to be a pet hate of mine). Now that I’d stopped reading and my mind was no longer processing the printed word into a world for me to live in, the sound was more like echoes underwater than the drip of a tap; being distant and muffled.

I tipped my chin up, looking over the brim of my book to the reality of my room, which now appeared bleak and washed out in comparison to the vivid world of The Sugar Queen.

Chris was teetering round the door with an eyebrow raised and a full smirk lying on his mouth. Had I, unbeknown to me, done something to amuse him lately?

“What do you want?” I sniffed indignantly.

“Me? Nothing at all,” he replied innocently, apparently taking my words as an invitation to enter my room. Unfortunately, my attention could barely surpass how he’d left the door open by a hair’s breath. How can anybody do that without having a guilt cluttered conscience?

Chris sat himself down at my desk at the end of my bed, his body folding up as he seated himself with one ankle resting on his other knee. He braced his hands on that ankle as he leant back in my chair. “I was just curious as to why you haven’t told me about what happened today yet.”

I looked away from him then, unable to face the hinted hurt in his face. Why should he care? The only reason that he could care would be if he was wondering how much longer I’d be staying for. That seemed like the only logical explanation to me. “I got through to the next stage,” I muttered, my eyes no longer downcast.

“That’s good, but shouldn’t you be out celebrating in that case?” Chris said. “That’s what people normally do when they receive good news.”

I turned the page of my book loudly. “How do you know that I’m not celebrating? I like reading, you know.”

“Alright, alright, fair enough,” he responded grumpily. “But why aren’t Carrie and Lucy here ‘celebrating’ with you?”

“They have much better things to do,” I excused them. I’d called Lucy on my way out of the theatre, just like she’d asked me to. She had yelled down the phone at Carrie and I in celebration. When I’d offered that she could come and spend the day with me on set tomorrow, she’d jumped at the idea, saying that she’d come along after her lessons. But, both Carrie and Lucy had lives and things to do, unlike me. Carrie had to try and make her videos whenever she had the chance, especially as she never had any time off at the moment, and Lucy had a paper due in tomorrow. I couldn’t expect them to drop everything in their lives just for my benefit.