7 Minutes ✧ Syndisparklez

Orange Juice

Warm feet pressed against cold steps; my eyes stung from crying the majority of my night away. The therapy session took a toll on my sleep, creating nightmares that were never there before. Images of myself, Oliver, James...

It was hell.

But I'm awake now. I don't have to face nightmares while I'm awake.

My heart yearned for a warm cup of coffee, despite my distaste for harsh bitter flavors.

Morning birds sang their hearts out, serenading me as the steaming brew poured into a happy, yellow mug. The birds made a symphony of noise, but the house was oddly quiet. Peaceful, for once. The warm light pouring in through the windows actually gave me a feeling I haven't felt in a long time.

~~Hope~~
A feeling that maybe this could all work out. Maybe someday we'd go back to being happy.
We'd never go back to the way things were - the "normal" days.
But we'd be happy.

An ugly hurl interrupted my thoughts.

I accidentally slammed my mug on the counter harder than I meant to, slipping scorching hot coffee down the side of my hand. I ignored it, though.

The bathroom door was locked.

"What's going on?" I asked. No repsonse. "Open up!"

Still nothing.

"I'm coming in," I barked, holding in a shaky breath. I haven't had to kick a door down for a long time.

~~Quick Tip~~
When kicking down a door, don't aim for the center of the door. If anything, that snaps the wood and you get hurt. Not to mention the blunt force trauma damages your ankle, due to the fact the door gives no immediate give.
Instead, kick right next to the door handle. In most cases, the locking mechanism of the door is closest to the handle. Once you destroy the lock, that door is yours to open.

The door flung open, bouncing back against the wall. Tingles danced down my calf, numbing my senses.

Alice sat on the tiles, her arm resting on the toilet seat.

"What the hell, Ingrid?" she yelled. She was a mess. Her hair was disheveled, sticking to the edges of her sweating face. Smeared saliva painted the side of her face. She seemed furious with me for a split second, but her expression dropped as she leaned in to hurl.

"Shit- I'm sorry," I mumbled, rushing to her side. "I thought something was wrong." As I pulled her hair out of her face, the pungent smell of bile basically punched me in the face. "Was it something you ate?"

"Morning sickness," Alice groaned, resting her face against the side of the loo.

"Can I get you a pillow or something, that doesn't seem-"

"No, it's cold. It's nice... I might just stay here for a while."

"Can I get you a cup of coffee?"

"No, thanks. Can't have caffeine."

"Oh."

We sat in silence for a while. I flushed the toilet for her, seeing as she made no attempts to do so herself.

"Have you told Tom and Jordan yet?"

"God, no!" she exclaimed, lifting her face off the porcelain throne. "I don't want them to know, they'd freak."

"Okay, I'll keep it from them."

Alice shifted her weight, leaning against the wall. She swallowed, resting her eyes for a moment. "Thank you."

"Where are they, anyways?" I asked, noticing again how silent the house seemed today.

A half-smile tugged at Alice's lips. "They're on a date. They went to Village Inn for breakfast. Jordan said he was craving waffles and orange juice, and we're out of orange juice."

~~A Date~~
A social or romantic appointment or engagement.
"I'm back," the brunette smiled, sitting on his side of the booth after returning from the restroom.
"Welcome. I ordered you some OJ."
"How'd you know?"
"Lucky guess?"
Hands clasped over the table.
"Tom, I'm sorry about yesterday. I should've told you sooner."
"You think I'm still upset about that?" Tom asked, slightly shaking his head. "I'm sorry I couldn't be there for you."
"But you were. You always have been."
"Tom smiled slightly, gently rubbing his boyfriend's hand with the edge of his thumb.
"Despite how much of a shit-show that was, I kinda like therapy."
"Me too," Jordan whispered. "Maybe we could make this a regular thing."
"Make what a regular thing?"
"Go to breakfast the day after therapy. To kind of... continue the conversation, I guess."
"Yeah. I would like that."

"Fucking, god damn it," Alice grumbled, wiping the dribble of mucus off her chin after a fourth dry-heave.

"Are you sure you don't want breakfast or something? It might make your stomach feel better," I suggested.

"Then what? I'll throw it all up again in about ten minutes. Yeah, no thanks."

"You have to feed that baby, Alice. I think it would love some toast, maybe some scrambled eggs. I'd be happy to fix some up for you."

"She."

"She?"

"She. She'd maybe like some breakfast, yeah."

~~A Promise~~
A declaration or assurance that one will do a particular thing or that a particular thing will happen.
"Thank you, Tom," Jordan smiled, scarfing down one of his three waffles.
"You're welcome, baby."
Silence filled the air. But not an awkward silence; not an angry silence either. A good silence. A peaceful, happy silence. The kind of quiet that fills the room because the food is so good, and you're so comfortable in the situation you're currently in, joined by the person you love.
"I'm gonna have to marry you, ya know that?" Tom whispered under his breath. Jordan stopped his chewing, replaying the quick comment in his head to be sure what he heard was correct.
"Is that a promise?"
"You want a ring?"
Soft smiles were exchanged across the booth.
"A ring would be nice."
"Okay," Tom blushed, taking a sip of his tea. "We can go look this afternoon."