HEADACHES - corbyn

4.5K 82 117
                                    

Corbyn woke up and immediately wished his body would've let him sleep more.

Each time Corbyn woke up, his head shook with the relentless lapping of waves as they crashed against the shorelines of his skull.

But sometimes, especially like today—days when Corbyn slept in longer than he should have—the waves crashing down on him tripled in force, the debilitating headache forming behind his eyes even before they'd opened for the day.

Cursing under his breath, Corbyn could already feel a very evident headache as he dug around his sheets for his phone. Finally finding it, he sighed out in relief as the incessant noise of his alarm stopped blaring, resting back into his pillows, eyes falling shut again.

Silence filled the room once more, Corbyn actually believing he could get some more sleep.

Of course, this belief was gone almost as quick as it had come. Not two minutes later, a second alarm went off.

"Oh. My. God." Corbyn groaned as he angrily threw the sheets off himself, stumbling as he stood and grabbed his phone once more, glaring at it as the noise continued. "Fuck you. I'm up!"

Once Corbyn had succeeded in turning off his alarm and thoroughly cursed out an inanimate object, he dragged himself over to the bathroom to get ready.

Making his way down the stairs thirty minutes later, Corbyn slumped into a seat next Daniel, who raised his eyebrows at him in concern, shoving a spoonful of cereal into his mouth.

"You okay there, Corbyn?" He asked after he'd swallowed, frowning when Corbyn only nodded.

"Yeah, no, just a small headache. I'll be fine." He gave him a tight lipped smile, Daniel hesitantly nodding in return. Corbyn felt his lips curve down as soon as Daniel turned away, getting up to grab a water bottle from the fridge.

He decided to skip out on breakfast for now, finding himself sitting legs crossed sitting back against door of a cabinet on the floor. Corbyn closed his eyes, hoping to ease some of the pain in his head that way.

It was one of Corbyn's worse days. The feeling as if he'd just spent the night slamming his head repeatedly on a cement wall made his head pound as his thoughts bounced off the walls of his cranium—leaving him dazed and in desperate need of nap, despite the fact that he'd just woken up. The agonizing ache in his head only seemed to worsen as he closed his eyes, searching desperately for a relief that he couldn't grasp.

Corbyn felt tears prick the corners of his eyes as the pain grew to be unbearable. The excruciating feeling of it all spread across his forehead, traveling down to the backs of his eyes before turning into a sharp pain resting in his jaw.

Despite going through this everyday, he was becoming so physically exhausted from it all. The strain of doing shows and acting like he was okay was wearing down on him, the weights piled heavy and high upon his shoulders. Corbyn had resigned to a pathetic crawl, body no longer physically capable of anything more as he dragged himself along as to keep himself going.

His bones ached and his head became almost as distant a feeling as the last time Corbyn truly felt okay. The pain never left, headaches remaining at all times—whether it be a dull ache to a pounding so great he felt like his head would explode, leaving him no choice but to sleep as it hurt to keep his eyes open otherwise—it always remained.

And he was getting so tired of it.

Corbyn heard footsteps approaching him, two voices talking as Corbyn swallowed thickly, opening his eyes to see Daniel gazing at him in concern, moving aside to reveal Jonah.

DYING IN LA | WHY DON'T WE SICKFICSWhere stories live. Discover now