I Am Not Okay With This (Me Either)

Faces On My Ceiling

The phone rang quite loudly; loud enough to wake up Stanley, who was a reasonably heavy sleeper, hence why he didn't wake up when Leo came to get her stuff.

He picked up his phone.

Before he could even get in a Hello? or a Who are you and why are you calling me at two in the morning? the person on the other end spoke.

"Stan, it's Sydney."

She sounded panicked.

"I fucked up."

"Sydney? What happened? Are you two okay?" His brain forced to wake up faster than usual, he asked the basics of course.

"That's the thing —she's not here. I made her cry and I think she went home."

"You made her cry? Why?"

"It wasn't on purpose; I was being an asshole. Stanley, I think me and Leo are half-sisters."

"What the fuck," he breathed out. His tired mind was no where near ready to process this type of information. "How do you know?"

"I was talking about my dad, told her my dad's name, she recognized it I guess and she showed me an old picture of her mom and my dad. I was really upset, Stan."

"Why'd she end up crying?"

Shit. I was hoping he wouldn't ask.

"Let's just say I said some really fucked up shit in the heat of the moment."

"Sydney, what did you say?"

She sighed. No point in lying. "I told her that she shouldn't have been born, and that she was a mistake or something, but that's not what's important right now, Stanley."

"Okay, uh, let me call her. I'll call you back," he said in his I'm not awake yet voice.

One ring, two, three, then four. Suddenly the ringing stopped, but there was no voicemail.

Nothing but silence from the other end. Then a sniffle.

"Leo? Are you okay?"

She wiped her eyes and put the phone up to her ear. "No, I'm not."

"Listen, I talked to Sydney and she said—"

"Why the fuck did you call me. Just go talk to her; I don't feel great right now."

"Leo," he said, obviously annoyed.

"What Stanley?"

"I was trying to check up on you, Jesus Christ; You are so frustrating," he said without thinking, his irritated sleep brain still in control.

"Wow, thanks Stanley. I didn't realize I was bothering you. You could've just told me that from the start. Listen, I've gotta go."

"Go where? It's two in the morning, Leo."

"Sleep," she said, and hung up the phone.

"Hello?" he asked into the empty line. Stan looked at his cellphone screen. Black.

Shit. Way to go, Stan the Man.

Leo laid back on her bed and stared at the ceiling for what felt like hours. She stared until the darkness started swimming; disjointed faces and teeth surfacing above her —soon turning into her parents. The parents she never got to know.

She knew that there was more to that little "relationship" than her mother told her. She had heard her on the phone, drunk sobbing to an unknown person, about the love life she had stolen from her.

She looked at the faces in the ceiling and remembered the friends she'd make in the ceiling when she was a young child without any. She tried to recall the faces her eyes had made up to make the ceiling have personality.

Even the faces in the ceiling treated her like shit. Maybe it's because that was all she knew at that age. But one in particular stuck out in her memory. She hadn't names them, but this was the only nice one. It had the same personality as her third grade teacher, Mrs. McCauley. She was the only teacher who wasn't annoyed by her hyperactive-ness. She treated her nice, like an aunt would.

She liked that face.

She missed it.

The ceiling continued to swim, and faces spread all over, then all melted into one another. They became two bodies, dancing around. The couple was dancing, swaying as the ceiling melted, and Leo's mind melted into sleep.

~~~

a/n: sorry guys. this one was a bit short. i apologize