Never Seen Anything Quite Like You Too (A The Script Fan-fiction)

19) Are You Serious?

Never Seen Anything Quite Like You Too

19) Are You Serious?

How does it feel to get something off of your chest? I tell you how it feels. It feels fucking awesome. It's like that tonne of bricks that was on your chest has now been lifted an you can finally breathe without the fear of trying to lift all of those bricks up with you when you inhale and back down when you exhale. It feels great that every time you open your mouth to speak you don't choke on particles that flood your nose and mouth then clot in your throat forming layer upon layer of guilt. You try to speak but you can't. You try to breath but you can't. You try to live but you can't. You don't try to die but you do.

Shall I tell you how it feels to have someone accept you for who you are despite the things you have done? It feels the same but even more awesome. It's a relief. Yes, that's what it is. One heck of relief. It's like having an ice lolly on a boiling got day when you're working non stop. I remember if I was working a long day in a stifling studio I would assign a ILBT - Ice Lolly Break Time - every couple of hours or so. I can tell you those were a real relief. The melted ice that was trickling down my throat and into my stomach was sure to put a smile on my face. It was sure to unclog all of those brick particles that were gathering in my throat. That's what relief is. A break from the pain that comes with every day life.

"OI! Siena? Where's my cuppa?" Came a shout from the Living room and I smiled. I'd been too busy thinking about what a relief if was to tell Glen what had been sitting on my chest and slowly strangling me to death.

"It's coming hang on Glen," I called back.

I finished stirring mine and Glen's cup of teas and rinsed the spoon off. It happens every single time and I never learn. Due to the unfortunate shaping of the spoon my t-shirt was now soaked. I chuckled slightly and dried the spoon which wasn't as wet as my t-shirt and placed it in it's rightful space. I picked up Glen's cup and carried it into him. He looked up as I came in and a smile came onto his face.

"Ah about time," he said sarcastically.

"Oh shut up you," I said.

"Where's yours?"

"Oh mine's out in the kitchen,"

"Aww you mean I don't have a second cup?"

"No Glen. I don't want you hyper,"

"Shame,"

I shook my head and went back out into the kitchen to grab my cup of tea in my plain white mug and brought it in. Glen was sat looking at his cup and when I came back in he stared at mine too.

"You're an artist," he stated.

"Well done ... " I said sarcastically.

"So why do you have plain mugs?"

"So I don't get distracted,"

"That don't really explain it,"

"Yes it does,"

"No it doesn't,"

"Uh yes it does,"

Uh it doesn't,"

"Uh it so does,"

"Uh it so doesn't,"

"Think you will find it does,"

"... How long can you keep that up?"

"Depends how long you can keep copying me for,"

"All day, Bubble," he said with a smug smile.

I put my cup down so I could cross my arms and I could tell he was grinning without needing to look at him. When I did turn I saw that he was grinning.