A high pitched beeping woke Zak up roughly, causing him to wince and press both the palms of his hands against his ears, trying to muffle the insistent sound.
Groaning, he pressed the top of the alarm, turning it off.
The raven haired boy let himself fall on his back, staring confusingly at the ceiling.
'Jesus Christ,' his hands massaged his temples in a vain attempt to reduce the nagging headache. 'I did it again, didn't I..?'
After taking a long, deep breath, he turned his head to the side, towards the nightstand, with the intent of discovering what time was it.
He found not only one, but two surprises instead, different colored sticky notes: a blue one attached on a slim cylinder of aspirin, while a yellow one on the alarm, unwillingly covering the time.
«U'll need these. -M» said the blue one, referring to the hungover.
Staring at it and rereading the message over and over for a few times, Zak groaned, grabbing the container.
"Guess you're right..." he murmured in reply to it, opening the cylinder and shaking it so that one of the the pills would fall on his palm.
Soon afterwards gulping it down without water, his eyes automatically fell on the other sticky note.
«Meet us @ my place asap. we sluffing the whole morning cuz of hoco. u better be there in ten. - :L»
"Oh, god..." Zak groaned, cupping his face with both his hands, elbows resting on his knees. "They're gonna be so fucking mad..."
Sighing, he forced himself to get up and, stumbling, he walked to the bathroom.
During his path, something grew in him, slowly becoming more and more heavy, pressing on his chest.
The short boy's boney hands grasped to the cold enamel of the sink. His head rose, watching himself in the mirror for the first time in weeks. Someone removed the towel.
Zak already saw it, that face, the one he hoped to never see again.
He stared at himself under that familiar but unknown, pitiless light.
The taste of blood filled his mouth, and his knuckles turned white for how hard his hands were clenching on the sink.
He was shaking. And for the first time, it wasn't for fear or sadness, but because of pure anger.
He never felt that angry at himself.
"Fuck you." he quietly growled tight lipped, narrowing his eyes at his reflection. "I" his right hand detached from the faucet, closing into a fist. "fucking..." he was ready to punch the mirror with all the forces in his body, but he didn't.
He just stared wearily at his thin figure, disgust and disappointment filling up his eyes.
"I fucking hate you." nothing more than a whisper came out of his shaky lips as fist weakly fell against the sink.
A deep breath. More deep breaths.
The naked feet of the short boy produced a quick thumping as he walked back in his room. With a rapid motion he grabbed his backpack at the foot of the bed, opening it with hectic movements.
A new transparent, orange container rose up in his hand from the inside of the bag. It was full of multiples colored pills.
His eyes were glued on it, unable to look away for a long moment.
Gritting his teeth, he frowned and ran back to the bathroom, unable to stop himself until slamming his shoulder against the cold white wall.
YOU ARE READING
Metanoia.「skephalo」
Fanfiction!!! H I A T U S !!! 「Metanoia.」 〚 Highschool AU 〛 /ˌmɛtəˈnɔɪə/ (n.) the journey of changing one's mind, heart, self or way of life. The wounded and the lost. ! This story contains and treats triggering topics such as severe m...
