Happy pills

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Author's notes: Uggghh I'm sorry my three-part story is so spaced ouuut. Sometimes I have bursts of inspiration, then I don't.

I wish I was happy again.

I wish I could feel a real smile again.

I wish I could feel something.

.

.

.

.

and not be sad anymore.

.

.

.

.

.

Lance sat on his chair leaning against his desk, the room was dark and only a small lamp was on. Scattered photos of the team covered the desk, a screen propped up showed an old video of Lance giving a tour of the castle. In each photo, Lance's face was blurred out by a black sharpie. Lance stared at the photos, a puddle of salty tears formed underneath him, soaking some of the paper pictures. His glossy eyes peered at the screen, a happy Lance was there. A Lance that he didn't think existed anymore.

He sighed and paused the video, he opened a drawer and grabbed a mirror.

Puffy eyes.

Wet cheeks.

Red eyes.

Swollen lips.

Messy hair.

Pale skin.

And a plastered fake smile.

He closed his eyes, feeling his moist eyelashes touch his skin. Tears rolled down like a flowing waterfall. He opened his drawer again and took out a glass bottle filled with bright yellow pills. It had a cute coral ribbon tied around the neck of it. He held it in his cold hands, grazing the soft glass. He tapped it lightly, hearing a faint sound as the pills jostled in the bottle. He looked in the mirror one last time, and tried a smile. Then he placed the bottle back in his drawer and stood up from the desk. He sat on his bed for a while, listening to the imaginary rain to fill the silence. He missed the sound of the soothing rain. The cold droplets falling against the glass window pain, the colourful umbrellas facing the sky. He tucked his feet in and pulled his blanket up to his face, he closed his heavy eyelids and felt the warm tears stain the pillow.

.

.

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"Lance! Time to get up!" A voice called, it was probably Pidge's. 

"Okay..." I managed to croak in my unconscious morning state. I rubbed my stinging eyes and slowly sat up in my bed. I trudged to the bathroom and stared at the dust ridden mirror.

I looked like complete shit.

I felt my forehead and felt the searing skin.

I quickly splashed water on my skin. I looked in the mirror once more before opening the medicine cabinet and taking my concealer. I brushed and blended on under my eyes to hide the bags and on the cheeks and-well everywhere else. But it wasn't enough, I could still see bags under my eyes. I sighed and put the concealer away. I quickly got dressed and glanced at the mirror.

I smiled.

But my face immediately mushed into nothingness after.

As if I was a robot.

I glanced at drawer and fiddled with the handle. I opened it and found the small glass bottle right where I had left it. I picked it up and popped open the cork. I tilted it and a single yellow pill fell into the palm of my hand. I held it up to my mouth.

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