Playing With Fire || d.h

63. The Story of Tonight

A/N: Do people in other countries like Hamilton that much? Even though it probably doesn't make as much sense as it would with Americans? Idk I love it but I'm also super into history but it must be mainstream for a reason.

PS sorry for not posting yesterday as I had promised, I ended up having to paint my friends house all day, and was too exhausted by the time I was done. Sorry!

I climb out of the bath, wrapping a towel around me and leaving my old clothes where I had dropped them on the bathroom floor, except for my underwear. Walking to Dan's room, I pull on a sweatshirt that's even oversized for him, so it goes just past my knees.  I look in the mirror hanging by Dan's dresser. My eyes are swollen, and I look like a zombie.

I nearly jump out of my skin as I turn to the doorway, and see Dan standing there.

"Oh, shit, sorry. I didn't mean to scare you. I heard you get out of the bathroom and wanted to make sure you were okay, I..." He starts ranting, but I cut him off.

"Dan, you're fine," I say, giving him a small smile. His mouth gapes for a second, before giving me a small smile back. However, even with the corners of his mouth pointing up, there's no crinkle in the corners of his eyes. Instead, they're muddy puddles of sadness. I would continue to stare at him, but he turns into a watercolor as tears well up in the corners of my eyes. The room is now nothing more than a mass of colors blurred together, but I feel familiar arms wrap around me, shoving my face into his familiar chest and taking in his familiar scent. I try to focus on his heartbeat, but instead his chest trembles against me, and the small sobs I hear escaping him make my legs give out.

He slowly lowers me to the ground, and leans against the wall, me curling up and crawling into his lap. My face shoved into his chest, his own crying making me bawl even harder. We shake to the same rhythm, his face against my shoulder as my face stays on his chest.

I haven't seen Dan cry like this before, and it breaks me even more. I don't know how I'm going to hold myself together anymore, but part of me doesn't want to. I'm sick of pretending to be tough. I'm tired of acting like everything just bounces off of me. I just want to be able to get all this shit that I've been holding in out of my head.

~~~~

Of course, due to my history, The pain medication I'm prescribed isn't that strong, and doesn't really help with the screaming pain in my uterus. I spend the day curled in a ball, watching Netflix and crying occasionally. Whether it's from the physical or emotional pain, I don't know. Luckily, Dan had been able to pick up my prescription before I was even up this morning, and I slip in and out of consciousness, trying my best to escape from my life, even just for a little bit.

The week goes by as a blur, a mix of me falling in and out of consciousness as I spend the next seven days lying in bed, eating food, watching Netflix, and realizing I'm currently not doing anything with my life.

After that week, I am feeling better physically, but my mental health has begun to fall apart. However, instead of letting myself fall even deeper in that hole, I realize I'm gonna do what I can to put myself back together.

Monday morning, I crawl out of bed, pulling Dan's arm off me. I walk to the bathroom, pee, brush my teeth, and take my pain killers, then brush my hair and do my makeup for the first time in a week. Well, if one thing good has come out of this, my skin has definitely cleared up from not caking it every day.

I fumble through my things in Dan's room as quiet as I can, pulling out a pair of high waisted shorts, a black shirt, and a belt, quickly getting dressed. My lower stomach still hurts every time I move in a way that uses my lower abdomen muscles, but I do my best to ignore it, finally pulling on some socks and a couple bracelets. Luckily I had taken a shower last night, so I just put on some deodorant, and I'm good. Looking in the mirror, I know it's not my best, but after the last week, it's not like I could ask for more.