Duplicity [h.s]

38

buckle up ;)

Harry Styles

When my eyes snapped open, I felt my breath be robbed from my lungs. All I saw was darkness and all I felt was a mild vibration under my back, hearing a familiar subtle hum with it. The ceiling was close to my head, making me feel like I was in a coffin. It was very dark, my eyes couldn't adjust to any light around me. My clothes were stiff on my body, I felt suffocated in here.

I turned my head to the right and perceived the familiar red curtain, immediately my thoughts changed. I wasn't in a coffin, I was in a bunk on the tour bus.

How did I get here?

I reached my hand out and open the curtain in one quick motion, feeling a light breeze that came with it.  I had no clue how I got on this bus, I don't remember a thing about last night. What time was it even?

I pulled my legs out of the bunk, draping them to the floor. My jeans felt more uncomfortable than usual, they were really stiff and... cold. The second I sat up straight, my dizzy head pounded of mistreatment. I groaned and placed my palms over my eyes.

Fuck.

I slowly stood up with my eyes still shut, my brain feeling like it was free flying in my skull. I hated sober pain, everything would hurt when I wasn't on something.

With slight dizziness I stood up in the dark bunker area on the tour bus, I felt so weak. I needed insulin and a cigarette. My chest felt heavy and my stomach turned of emptiness, I just wanted to go back to sleep but I was so confused on how I got here. I had absolutely no recollection of last night.

Last thing I remember is tossing those pills back with whiskey, smoking a joint and stumbling toward the bathroom. After that, everything is wiped. But this wasn't the first time I woke up on a tour bus after a night like that. If I had a nickel for every time I arose from a dark sleep on the bus after a blacked out night, I'd have so much more profit.

I stumble painfully sober to the bus bathroom, opening the skinny door to slide it. Once in the stupidly small viscidity, I shut the door. Flicking on the warm light, I saw my hazy reflection before just wiring my eyes shut from the brightness.

Scuffling in annoyance, I rub my tired eyes and try to adjust to invasion of artificial light in this pain in the ass tiny washroom. Still with my eyes practically shut, I turned on the sink tap and dip my head down to the facet. My mouth barrels under the cold stream, gulping some of it back to my insanely dry mouth.

I pull up and wipe my mouth, looking in the mirror and gripping the sink counter. My eyes were strained red, under eyes dark and hollow. I was pale and washed out of any previous colour. Despite the water I could still taste the liquid on my tongue from the night before, it lingered a bitterness of expensive whisky I know I probably downed last night.

I opened the mirror that had a medicine cabinet behind, grabbing all the stuff I needed and piling it onto the sink counter. I shut the cabinet so I was seeing my reflection again.

Pills, eye drops, toothbrush, toothpaste, and insulin.

I grab my toothbrush and wet it with toothpaste, brushing my mouth of the aftermath taste of last nights regrets. I brush everywhere with the mint, getting the back of my tongue so I could really get the liquor taste out of my mouth.

I spit and rinse, grabbing the eye drops and popping the cap off. I toss my head back and pull my bottom lids open, splashing two medicated drops in each burning dry eye. I blink a few times to soak it in, titling my head back down and instantly feeling a bit better.