Friends show their love in times of trouble, not in happiness.
~Euripides
Nik and I, tired from our early morning drama, just lay on my bed side by side. I close my eyes and soon drift off, my sleep plagued with various nightmares, all centered around one thing: Amara hurting Imogen. Sometimes, it's physical. Other times, it's psychological, or even emotional. Each time, I have to see Imogen cry. Each time, it breaks me apart inside. I couldn't bare to see Imogen hurting like that, but I don't know what to do. I don't think there's any way I could prevent it unless I make them break up somehow, but that would make Imogen sad too. I can tell she's really into Amara, and that breaks my heart, but there isn't anything I can do but watch and wait.
"Freya!" I hear someone shout my name, waking me up from my torturous sleep. I roll over onto my back and see Nik above me, looking down at me with concern filling his expression.
"Hey." I say, my voice croaky from sleep. Nik wipes his fingers across my cheeks, confusing me, until I realize I'm crying. Nik questions,
"What were you dreaming about, Freya? You were whimpering and crying." I notice the darkness under my brother's eyes and realize I must have woken him up with whatever noise I was making in my sleep due to the nightmares I was experiencing.
"I'm sorry I woke you up. I was just having a nightmare." I tell him, my voice quiet due to sadness and fear. I turn my head so instead of continuing to look into Nik's green eyes, I'm looking at the wall.
"Do you want to talk about it?" He hesitantly asks, placing his hand on my shoulder in a gentle and comforting manner. I consider not answering verbally and instead just shaking my head, but that'd probably make Nik even more concerned for me. So, I reply out loud,
"Not right now. I'm just going to try and get more sleep, you should do the same." Silence stretches between us before Nik's voice breaks it as he utters a single word,
"Okay." I hear Nik shuffle around on the bed. I stay completely still, slowing my breathing as much as I can to give the illusion that I'm asleep, even though I know I won't be able to fall back asleep with the type of dreams I had. Therefore, I stay in bed, staring at the wall and letting my mind wander for an hour or two. My thoughts are then interrupted by a knock on my bedroom door.
I slowly get out of bed, trying to jostle it as little as possible so Nik will hopefully stay asleep. I tiptoe across my bedroom floor over to my door, swinging it open to reveal Imogen on the other side. She smiles at me, simultaneously making me want to smile back and also shattering my heart. I shakily smile back, silently wondering why she's here.
"Want to watch some RPDR?" She questions quietly, guessing accurately that Nik is asleep. I hesitate, knowing it will hurt knowing she's now with another girl and moving out of the apartment we've shared for years tomorrow. But, I haven't been able to hang out with Imogen one on one in awhile, so I think watching RuPaul's Drag Race with her will be worth it.
"Sure." I answer, my smile now more sincere. I follow her to the living room after leaving my room and softly closing the door, doing anything I can to make as little noise as possible to let Nik sleep. It's the least I can do, I did unintentionally wake him up after all, and he travelled all night just for me.
Imogen and I settle on the couch on opposite sides. I'm not sitting right next to her like I usually would. If Amara saw, she might get suspicious or angry. Even though I hate her, I don't want to cause an argument between Imogen and her girlfriend. To me, Imogen's happiness comes first and if she's happy with Amara, then I'll do what I can to make sure it stays that way. Even if it hurts.
Since I left my phone in my room, Imogen uses hers to go on Netflix and turn on RuPaul's Drag Race. We sit in silence watching the drag queens, occasional laughs escaping our mouths. I feel Imogen look over at me occasionally, probably noticing how my natural eye bags are even worse due to my lack of decent sleep lately. I never look over at her though. However, the temptation to do so is extremely strong. That is why I shouldn't. She is in a serious relationship, and I won't purposely do anything to sabotage that. I'd rather be in pain myself than see Imogen hurting, especially if it's something I caused.
Once we're about halfway through the second episode, Imogen pauses it. I don't look over at her, thinking it was just a mistake or she wanted to pause it so she could go to the bathroom or something. After a few long, awkward minutes pass, it's clear this isn't the case. Yet, I still don't look at her. I'm scared of what she'll see in my eyes if I do. Imogen is quite good at reading me, and I'm too tired and too hurt to try and hide my emotions properly, so Imogen would be able to read me like a book.
"Freya, what's wrong?" Imogen gets impatient and asks.
"Nothing." I respond quickly, tangling and untangling my fingers together over and over again as my nervousness rises.
"You're lying," Imogen states, sounding a bit hurt, which makes me feel horrible. But, it's necessary, she can't know the truth "Why are you lying? To me, of all people! I'm your best friend, Freya! You can tell me everything! Why won't you talk to me?"
"This isn't something you should know. It's better for everyone if I keep it to myself." I tell her. I hope she'll drop it, but I don't think she will. Like I predicted, Imogen demands yet again,
"Freya, talk to me."
"I can't," I say, tears starting to fall from my eyes no matter how much I try to stop them, "I'm sorry Imogen. I'm so sorry."
"It's okay, you don't have to apologize. Just know I'm here for you." She replies, scooting across the couch to sit next to me. Imogen wraps her arms around me, embracing me tightly and providing me with a great sense of comfort. While she hugs me, I continue to cry and murmur in her ear,
"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."
YOU ARE READING
Prideful Shirts
AcakA tale of a place where you can go to meet people that you might be interested in and the only thing stopping people are their shirts.
