guilty of devotion - [dnp au]

10.:. iceberg // børns

TW: alcohol

november 14th

on the t-shirt that i wear
pick the thorns out of my hair
i broke your heart so carelessly
but made the pieces part of me
and now it hurts what we've become
cause you taught me how to love

Conor Mason's unexpected singing wakes up not only my brain but the crows outside the room's for some reason open window. They're rather screaming as if their lives are in danger than chirping cutely like other, less terrifying birds that people don't associate with horror movies would.

Apparently, my phone's been put on do not disturb for so long, it's disabled automatically - in months I hadn't heard the painful song that's been my ringtone for at least a year, not that anyone rings me on the regular. Conveniently, all of my friends are close enough to storm into my room whenever they like. Besides, phone calls increase my anxiety levels.

Occupied with wondering about my lonely, mostly deserted calls list, I forget to pick up and the pleasant melody of Nothing But Thieves' Sorry cuts off.

A satisfying cuss leaves my mouth as I remove the warm blanket that had been helping with my fever for the past day and place my feet on the ground unwillingly. Before searching for my phone, I slam the window shut; I don't want to get any more ill than I already am.

When I, shaking due to the freezing room, squat down to the floor in hopes of finding my phone underneath it, someone knocks on the door.

Fuck, fuck, fuck repeats in my mind as I follow my first instinct and roll over to hide underneath the bed. I haven't warned anyone about my absence from school (caused by sudden sickness), it could be someone who's here to inform about the trouble I'm in.

I hold my breath and stay steady while the person, hadn't received a response, invites themselves in and stops right at the door.

- He's not here. What do we do? - by their voice, I discover the comer is Jack and breathe out in relief. It's not a staff member, yet I still refuse to reveal my location; it'd be far too embarrassing to face Phil's best friend now, so I remain in the same miserable position under the bed and hope the phone doesn't ring again.

And for a good cause when another pair of feet enter the room, following Jack further in. I should have expected that someone else.

- Just wait for him. - Phil declares wearily.

The feared spoken forces my eyes to fall shut in horror. The boy undoubtedly felt the need to bring up a plan of them staying here until I, presumably, show up. What's one supposed to do in circumstances like these? Come out and address the situation? Scream in agony? Eavesdrop?

Extreme guilt. It's what invades my curious guts yet I decide on the third, even though I could overhear anything.

- He couldn't have gone anywhere far, he was coughing like an 80 year old smoker this morning. The husky voice's so hot, though. - my roommate adds a chuckle to his last statement, stepping forward. My left ear's touching the ground so every noise they make is as loud as a nuclear explosion.

If my humiliating self could pull itself together to disclose my current whereabouts, I'd smack Phil's cheek for his words right about now. The husky voice's so hot?! He's not even thinking clearly at this point.

- The boy's in pain, don't talk about him that way. - Jack's voice is distant so I assume it's his best friend who had just landed on my squeaky bed so harshly that the mattress sank and almost touched my belly.