Fix You ,, Michael Clifford

Chapter Two

    Blinding sunlight shone at me through the curtains grogily waking me up. I fluttered my eyes a couple times to adjust to the brightness then looked around. V was sound asleep, snoring quietly beside me in her king size bed. With a bit of self motivation I pushed myself out of the sheets and stood up to stretch before heading into the bathroom to do my morning routine. I brushed my teeth and put a comb through my dark hair lazily before throwing it into a high ponytail. Washing the dried up left over makeup from last night off of my eyes felt amazing. I threw cold water on my face and got undressed and ready for the shower. I hopped in quietly hoping not to wake V. As I was washing my body flashbacks of last night went through my mind. Michaels' green eyes meeting mine and the sour taste of alcohol running down my throat and into my veins. Weird. I've never had after thoughts about anyone after meeting them. Every face I meet is another black and white portrait of someone I can't bring myself to open up to. Why would I? You can't trust anyone you meet, sometimes not even your self. The only person I've ever opened up to was Veronica. Somehow she knocked my walls around myself down and that's something I promised myself I would never let anyone else do ever again. I've learnt not to trust anyone, besides V. Everybody fucks you over in the end, my parents and high school friends taught me this. I shook my head hoping to shake the thoughts away. I turned the water off and wrapped a towel around myself. 
    Veronica soon woke up after my shower. She was fighting a hangover and dragged her self downstairs to eat some breakfast. As she picked at her cereal trying to keep it down I took my pills. Anti depressants. V finished her cereal, her spoon clanking against the bowl when she dropped it aggressively. 
   "Urgggg. I feel like complete shit." She said and pushed her bowl away from her, placing her head in her hands. I feel terrible because, I don't get hangovers anymore. I've been drinking a lot lately. I've become so tolerant to the morning-afters. 
    "Go back to bed for a bit and take an Advil." I thought for a minute. "I think I'm going to head home anyways. I have stuff to do around the house..." I trailed off feeling guilty about my lie. I really just wanted to go home and lay in bed with my thoughts and maybe get some of my writing done. I wrote when I was down, which was well, all the time. So I write as often as possible. She nodded her head and reached into the cupboard behind her searching for the Advil she desperately needed. I heard the pills rattle in her hand as she pulled off the top and took out two tablets. V swallowed the medicine and we walked back to the staircase up to her room. I grabbed my things, we said our goodbyes and said we'd call each other later tonight. I hopped down the staircase quietly closing the front door behind me knowing that she probably passed out the minute she hit the pillow. The ignition of my car revved and I pulled out of the driveway and made my way home.