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oh boy do I like sadness. (mentioning of vomiting at the beginning)
♪ ┈┈┈┈┈┈┈ ♪
Esmeralda had dropped by that morning with some fast food, seeing if she could make Romeo feel any better, considering that Matías had informed her that he was feeling sick and wanted to be left alone for now. Consider her surprise when she arrived and Romeo seemed just fine, back to normal. He was making an effort to annunciate his words better and almost pushed her out the front door when they were done eating because he wanted to write. So, Esmeralda walked to her car with a smile, glad her friend was doing better now.
She would call Matías on the way home, let him know that Romeo was doing better. That he was eating, that he was starting to smile. She would tell him that Romeo was alright.
Back in the house, Romeo closed the door and let out a breath, shoulders sagging a little as he clutched the doorknob with an iron grip, his knuckles turning white. Why couldn't they just leave him alone? Couldn't they see that dropping by his home unannounced was stressing him out?
He just wanted to be alone.
He almost wanted to open the door and walk out. Just leave everything here and find somewhere where he didn't get in the way of others. Find a place where he wasn't a bother to his 'friends'.
Shaking those thoughts out of his mind, Romeo walked the distance back up to his room and layed back down on the bed he had been sitting on since Matías had left the day before. It had been almost four full days now since his hospital trip flicked on a switch in his mind, letting memories return to him like a slow trickle turning into a waterfall that crashed down on his jumbled mind, swirling around inside of his head, making him sick to the stomach. God, he felt so sick. His stomach was telling him to throw up what he had just eaten with Essie, but his head was yelling at him that it would make him feel worse. Eventually, the stomach won, and Romeo stumbled off his bed, crashing into the bathroom and almost throwing himself to the toilet to empty his stomach into the white bowl. The heaving of his stomach would have been accompanied by tears if he had any left in him to cry, most of the salty droplets of water-stained the pillow and duvet on his bed. His eyes ached, and now his body did two, his throat scratchy and rough.
He hated this, but he couldn't figure out how to make it any better. Whenever someone would try to talk to him, contact him, he felt guilty. He was taking up their time, he had somehow tricked them into caring about him.
Rory had called him last night.
He had watched the phone ring, waiting for it to turn to voicemail, watching the screen turn black once more. He had waited for the voicemail to come through, listening to the calm voice of his friend, who seemed happier then he had been as of recent days. Romeo knew that Rory had been going through some trouble with one of his friends, he wasn't aware of details because he didn't want to pry.
