𝐏𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐢𝐧' 𝐆𝐮𝐲 ➺ 𝐵𝓇𝒾𝒶𝓃 𝑀𝒶𝓎 & 𝒬𝓊𝑒𝑒𝓃

(45) 𝘘𝘶𝘦𝘦𝘯

A/N

Hiiii! Here's an update.

Hope you enjoy the fluffiness. Take advantage of it. Love it. Read past chapters. Because that fluffiness.... Does not live forever.

Enjoy, lovelies.

C x

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12th July 1973

I wasn't tired, I just didn't want to get out of bed.

I was laid on my stomach, completely limp, my eyes ghosting over the small amount of jewellery I owned on my nightstand. If anyone were to come in, they would've thought I was possessed or something else along those lines. I hardly blinked, nor did I move a single muscle.

I was having one of my off days – my painfully off days.

I felt nowhere and everywhere all at once, nothing and everything at the same time. The thought of getting up and doing something made me feel physically sick. It's one of those bizarre human responses that you can't explain. Depression will never be described as a disease; more of a condition that's managed by medicating yourself. But it is a disease.

Granted, my symptoms had lessened in that year of university, for obvious reasons, but it was never a guest I wanted to invite back. It always visited, and it was always unexpected.

I wasn't expecting to wake up and feel like this that day. I figured it was because I'd finished the work I had to do for university, and I didn't really have much else to do. My mind just wandered into unfriendly territories and it stayed there when I was left idle for long enough.

So, there I was, in bed at one in the afternoon, the flat silent other than the sound of my own heart beating in my chest. I couldn't decide if I wanted to talk to someone, or if that would just make me worse. But it seemed I had no choice when there was a firm knock on the front door, making me jump in my position.

Please just go away... I thought to myself, not up for being social. I'm sure whoever is at the door is lovely, but not today... I felt a pang of guilt when I decided not to get up – I was positive that they had left. But then another knock came.

"Ugh... Fuck... Off." I grumbled, forcing myself to get up. With a sigh, I ran my hand through my hair as I trudged down the corridor. I attempted to make myself look at least a little bit presentable before pulling the door open. "Oh, it's you."

"Lovely. Can I come in?"

"If I say no, will you go away?"

"No."

I rolled my eyes, pulling the door further open, letting Roger glide past me.

"Is Emma here?"

"I thought she was with you, actually." I closed the door, following him into the living room, where he plonked himself down on the sofa. I went over to the sink in the kitchenette and got myself a glass of water. "Do you want a drink?" I asked over my shoulder.

"Go on, then." Roger answered.

I turned with the glass in my hand, making my way towards the sofa. "You know where everything is."

He sighed, frustrated that I wasn't about to wait on him like other girls did. We gave each other a sour smile as we passed one another and I took his place on the sofa, resting my foot up on the coffee table.

"So, you haven't seen Emma at all?" I questioned after a couple of minutes. That morning, she'd told me she was going to see Roger and left without saying much else. It didn't matter that our relationship had soured somewhat, I was still concerned for her and what she was perhaps choosing to do in her spare time. In case my suspicions aren't clear enough... I was seventy-percent certain that she was doing drugs or something along those lines.