The Foreigner & The Pessimist (malexmale)

9. Lane

**TRIGGER WARNING**TRIGGER WARNING**

The end of this chapter contains depictions of self harm.   For anyone sensitive to this type of content who wishes to still read up to that point, I have put in a second warning just before the act takes place so you can click away.  

This was always something I knew was going to be part of Lane's story.  That's why it's in the tags, and that's why it's included in my note to you all at the very beginning.  Lane is a character who struggles with mental illness, and this chapter explores just how much he's struggling, and how poorly he's coping.  

My eyes flutter open, slightly sore, and squinting against the harsh morning rays of sun pouring in through the frosted window. I must have forgotten to close the curtains last night. And judging by the fact that I can still see clearly, I also forgot to take my contacts out.

Stupid...I groan; annoyed at myself. I know I should get up and take them out, but instead I burry my head back in the pillow, trying to give myself a few more minutes to wake up slowly before I have to start my day. After all, I left them in all night, so a little bit longer isn't going to hurt.

But the longer I lay there, the more I get to thinking, and the more a start to realize that I've actually got no memory of coming back home last night.

That's got to be a mistake. I say to myself, racking my brain.

The last thing I remember is sitting in the taxi with Zuuro after dinner. We were on our way back to the dorms, but...shit...I honestly don't remember coming back here. I know I was kind of tired, but was I really that bad that I blacked out coming all the way up here and putting myself to bed?

Maybe it was the pills...fuck, but I don't think memory loss is supposed to be one of the side effects, is it? Surely someone would have warned me about that? That's kinda fucking dangerous!

I flip over, pressing on the corners of my eyes to make them water, trying to get a little of the dryness to go away so I can get up and hopefully find some kind of a clue as to what happened last night.

And then I look up, and that's my first sign that something is wrong here. The ceiling is white. Pure, neutral, Unity High standard dormitory white.

My ceiling is black. I painted it that way the first year I moved in, and I tacked little strings of fairy lights to it to make it look like a mock night sky. But this room has none of that. It's just normal.

This is not my room... I realize as I sit up and look around.

I'm alone, and I'm definitely in someone else's room, but it's not Fallon's or Tallon's. Their rooms, like my own, are both painted and decorated far past the usual boring beige that this one is. And they're far, far, messier. This place is freaking spotless.

And then my eyes fall on the lone, crooked little plant sitting on the windowsill and the realization hits me like a brick; this is Zuuro's room!

Instantly, my anxiety spikes and my stomach leaps into my throat. What the hell am I doing in Zuuro's room?

I quickly flip back the blankets and let out a little sigh of relief when I find I'm still fully clothed – with the exception of my shoes and jacket, which are both down by the foot of the bed. But that's not a surprise. It makes sense that I wouldn't have slept with those on. It also doesn't look like anyone else has slept here besides me, so thankfully, I don't think I did anything too stupid last night.