guilty of devotion - [dnp au]

9.:. indestructible // welshly arms

november 1st

En™ [4:12PM]: are u here yet

Me [4:12PM]: almost :)

En™ [4:12PM]: did you know that we can climb onto the school's roof????

Me [4:13PM]: no. that shouldn't be allowed

En™ [4:13PM]: technically, it isn't but you know how i'm in student council..well, i found out that there's a key to it so i borrowed it from someone

Me [4:14PM]: sounds fun, let's go

En™ [4:14PM]: yay

En™ [4:14PM]: tell me when you get here, i'm sick of waiting at the stop (and it stinks here) so i'm grabbing some coffee at that vegan place

Me [4:15PM]: let's meet there. see you

Shifting my eyes back to the scenery outside the coach's window, I let my phone fall on the seat beside me. An awfully depressing view, really. November's just arrived; if trees around Mullingar still grew leaves before my trip to Dublin, they've fallen to the ground entirely by now. The driving rain, which seems comforting and refreshing from my current location inside the pleasantly warm bus, is undeniably nasty to those forced to be outside.

Needless to say, the weather around here awoke my memories of all the rainy afternoons wasted on the window sill in my mother's office, playing the set of Xbox the company for some reason owned. Usually I'd be there with, uh, Chris.

I don't even know if he's still alive, he has me blocked on every social media account and my other acquaintances from Berkshire.. well, let's just say my well being is as important to them as Math classes.

I sometimes still accidentally call Chris my best friend to people around here, it's like a curse I can't get the hang of.

No matter how hard I attempt to neglect his existence, he somewhat reenters my mind again. How fantastic and absolutely painless, right?

Quickly, I fill it up with less toxic thoughts - ones about En and our on and off going friendship. We still haven't reached the next stage, there's not even a relationship thing anymore. It's just her and I awkwardly having feelings but never discussing them face to face.

Whenever anything romantic is about to happen between us, I bail out and stop it from escalating, fearing to screw up. It's tragic. And I wish I could fix it and step over my extraordinary consternation.

With the fairly forsaken bus stop near Tesco visible in distance, I pick up my luggage --which is so much emptier than it was on the day I appeared in Mullingar for the first time-- and clumsily step out of the bus seat. On the wobbly way to the front, I pass a couple of MAC students that I've spotted during the breaks between lectures. All of them, thankfully, don't seem to notice my uncoordinated movements.

I mumble a 'thanks' to the kind driver - he guided me to the right vehicle when I'd got lost in the confusing Dublin's coach station earlier - and wait for him to stop the car completely, before jumping out of it.

The surprisingly soft raindrops fall on my skin and rebound off in a millisecond, yet manage to moisten my clothes in moments. I take a few muddled steps to my right, struggling with my suitcase as its wheels have recently broken, my vision unclear from all the water pouring into my eyes.

As luck would have it, a puddle comes in the way and I happen to get one of my feet all wet. That and my hair curling up even more thanks to the drops of water surely is a great condition to be in before meeting someone I'm sort of romantically involved with.