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Wake up, Tori.
Wake up.
Tori, please, wake up.
Tori. You must wake up.
That is all that Tori Spring can possibly think of right now; the fact that she must wake up. The funny thing is she’s not even asleep. She’s awake and she’s trying to force herself up and it’s all so funny, isn’t it? Is it?
Her eyes are shut and they feel strange…unreal. Somehow her blankets aren’t nice and cozy like blankets should be in the morning. All of her limbs ache and her back is sore. Despite all of this, Tori wants nothing more than to stay in this uncomfortable pretend sleep.
She had many things to do. Oliver needs to be watched, her English literature essay needs to be finished, and the laundry had to get done. When or if Tori finds the motivation to open her eyes, she should stretch to relieve her aching body.
The things she ‘needed’ to do would probably never get done. She didn’t really want to do any of them. She didn’t really want to do anything today. She didn’t even want to pretend to sleep. Or real sleep. She didn’t want to do anything.
Tori’s brain shifted when she heard soft, light footsteps by her door. She didn’t open her eyes. She didn’t even breathe. She was praying Charlie or Oliver (she was certain it was one of the two) wouldn’t knock or call for her. If they called she would answer - whether she wanted to or not. Charlie and Oliver would probably call for her at some point, but she just didn’t want to do it right now. It was so early. Maybe. Tori didn’t exactly know the time.
After a few more seconds with a prevalent lack of footsteps, Tori let out a long, withstanding breath.
She opened her eyes and somehow it made her back hurt more.
Even with her blackout curtains, Tori could tell it was daytime. When she flipped her head over to her nightstand she saw it was 2:39 p.m. She briefly thinks about how she would be leaving school if it was a school day. Was it a school day? Tori couldn’t even remember. She looked back up to the ceiling.
She had opened her eyes. Tori opened her eyes. Her eyes were open! She just….couldn’t manage to do the next step. She wondered if it was even possible. Maybe…just maybe Tori would step out of bed and she would simply die from the stress it brought her.
The worst thing was…Tori had no excuse! She had no reason to want to do nothing. Tori Spring had been doing nothing for years and all she wants to do is less than nothing. Why was living so difficult for her? Couldn’t she just suck it up? Can’t she just wake up?
She needs to wake up. Tori Spring needs to wake up. The fact that she isn’t waking up is stressing her out. She can already feel her heartbeat quicken.
Her eyes are glued to the ceiling. Her body is glued to her bed.
She wonders when she’ll die. She wonders if it's today. She wonders whether or not she wants it to be today.
Tori shuts her eyes when she feels the stinging feeling of tears.
She wants to wake up. Or maybe she doesn’t. Tori wants to know what she wants.
For a few seconds, Tori stays still in her bed with her eyes shut again. She can feel her chest rise and fall and she hears her shallow, but shaky breathing. She is vaguely aware of her twitching hand beside her and she wants to be proud of herself for moving, but it was involuntary so it doesn’t really count for anything.
When her eyes open again and flicker back to the alarm clock, it’s 3:04. Tori wants to vomit at the twenty-five meaningless minutes wasted.
Tori rolls off the bed. She literally rolls off her bed because she cannot physically bring herself to stand. She knows if she tries to bring herself to step away she will have a psychotic breakdown. So she rolls off her bed and finds herself in a sitting position with a thick blanket wrapped around her like a cocoon.
She fumbles for her phone. Her fingers don’t feel real. She flexes them. They are real. She enters her phone password and clicks on Michael Holdens contact.
Tori: are you coming over today??
Tori has gotten better at reaching out first. Especially when it comes to Michael. She’s never been so open and honest with anyone before. Though Michael helps her through days like this, he doesn’t put an end to them entirely. That’s okay.
Michael: am i supposed to be coming over today?
Tori blinks wearily at the message. She thinks it’s stupid. She decides not to respond to the message; she turns the phone off. Her eyes are cast back up at the ceiling. She wants to scowl at the message, but her face doesn’t change from its vacant stare.
Maybe Tori should go back to sleep. She wishes she could go back to sleep. She wishes she could sleep and not wake up again. She doesn’t want to deal with texts. She hates texts! They are so ridiculously hard to read - not the words, but the tone. How does someone decipher what am I supposed to be coming over today means ?
Tori hates that she doesn’t get what Michael means especially because she normally would understand it at least somewhat. But today, her brain was so foggy and empty and she just couldn’t translate Michael’s foreign language.
And, Tori hates that Michael doesn’t just get what she means. She was asking him to come over! Why doesn’t he get that can’t he please just understand? And Tori hates that she knows that this is an unreasonable thought! Michael is not a mind reader or text decipherer! She can’t expect him to know her hidden messages, but she wishes he did.
Tori put her eyes on the heels of her wrists. She stays there. While she sits with her wrists pressed to her eyes, she wonders if another twenty-five minutes will be wasted on her bedroom floor. She wonders if she’ll make it out of her room by dinner time. Will she manage to eat dinner tonight? She doesn’t even think she could bother to lift a fork right now. She is so tired. Tori’s special kind of tired; bone-tired; soul-tired.
The footsteps are back in the corridor. Tori tries to ignore them, but it’s the only thing she can focus on other than her thoughts. They were heavy…and light. It was two pairs of footsteps. It was Nick and Charlie. She was sure of it. Of course! Of course, it was Nick and Charlie. Tori wants to click her tongue, but she doesn’t. She just slowly takes her eyes away from her hands and stares at her door. She ignores the little shapes dancing through her vision.
There’s a knock. A knock on her door. Tori’s door was right there and someone was knocking. She opens her mouth, but the words die in her throat. She can’t say anything. She wants to, but she feels sick.
Tori bites her lips and pushes herself over to the door. She doesn’t even stand to get there. She doesn’t want to. So she pushes herself along the wooden flooring of her bedroom and sits beside her door. She knocks in the same pattern that she just heard.
“Tori?” It’s Nick Nelson. “Everything okay, mate?”
Mate. Tori wants to laugh. She knocks on the door again, because she still doesn’t feel ready to speak.
She can hear faint whispering, but only briefly. She hears shuffling and pressure against the door. Somebody just sat beside it.
Charlie hesitates, “...Tori? You’ve been in your room all day. Do you feel alright?”
There’s a pause.
“One knock for no, two for yes,” Nick says softly.
Tori blinks. Her eyes hurt. She chews on her lip before she knocks twice. She knows it's a lie and she knows Charlie and Nick likely know it too. She doesn’t care.
Tori presses her head against the door. She wants to think Charlie was doing the same, but she can’t be sure. She closes her eyes. She’s thinking about how tired she is again.
Then, she thinks about how Charlie might be worried right now. Worried about her. Charlie might be worried about Tori. When really, he should be worried about himself. Tori doesn’t need him to worry. Not right now. Not ever.
“I’m fine,” Tori croaks out; she’s not sure if Charlie can hear it.
There’s another pause and Tori feels her stomach flip.
“Do you think you would like uh…a diet lemonade, Tori,” Nick asks and suddenly his voice is a little bit chipper than before. The positivity relieves Tori a little. It reminds her a little of Michael. Michael…
Tori crawls back to her phone that she had abandoned. There were several messages from Michael.
Michael: tori? Where’d u go?
Michael: im omw
Michael: toriiii
Michael: im quite confused right now but im excited to see u
Tori vaguely registers more knocking on her door, but she’s trying to think of something to say to Michael.
‘Oh, yeah, sorry Michael, I had to crawl around my floor like a toddler! My bad!’
She couldn’t say that.
She typed. She deleted it. She typed more. She deleted more. She wondered if typing a response was even worth it. By the time she figures out what she wants to say Michael would already be at her doorstep! Tori tries to think of something to say anyways. She wants to say something.
Tori: okay
She is such an idiot.
The second she sends the horrendous message, she realizes the knocking on her door got slightly more frantic. Oh…yes. Nick and Charlie. Tori crawls back over to the door.
“Sorry,” Tori rasps, “Michael will be over shortly.”
The knocking finally stops and Tori almost wants to open the door, but she doesn’t. Instead, she sinks, so she is laying on the floor of her bedroom. It’s not all too comfortable, but it does crack her back. She sticks her finger under the crack of the door. She feels Charlie’s finger poke it. She wishes she had enough emotional energy to smile, but she doesn’t.
“Sure you’re okay?”
Tori shuts her eyes. She thinks of jumping off of a really tall building and feeling the wind. She thinks of the beautiful, beautiful nothing that will hopefully come afterward.
Without opening her eyes or raising her voice, Tori Spring says, “I swear on my own life - I’m fine.”
She can feel her brother’s hesitation, but she hears the pitter-patter of his footsteps. Nick and Charlie both left and now Tori is just a lonely, miserable mess of a girl who is laying on the floor. She hopes Michael comes soon.
Tori shifts her position and curls into herself. She must look pathetic, but nobody sees her so it doesn’t really matter. She finds her eyes growing even heavier than usual and then she’s asleep. She dreams of Michael Holden and it makes her mind feel a little less fuzzy.
Tori is awoken by a door jamming into her. It’s not all too pleasant. She finally shows some emotion on her face when she lets it bloom into a scowl. Tori pushes herself up and opens the door all the way.
She’s still sitting on the floor and her hair is undoubtedly a mess. Her eyes are certainly bloodshot and she definitely has major, heavy eyebags. She doesn’t worry much about her appearance though. She just lets her scowl simmer.
Michael Holden is staring at her with mixed emotions.
Normally Tori would’ve allowed her mouth to be coaxed into a smile around Michael, but she was rudely awoken so she doesn’t.
Michael is holding a butter knife. He is wearing shorts and a t-shirt. He looks quite silly, but so does Tori so they are matching. Her eyes linger on the butterknife a little.
His eyes follow her gaze. He sets it down on a table in the corridor, quickly. He almost seems ashamed he got caught with it. I blink.
“I was worried and your door was locked…and I thought it was barricaded, but I guess it was just you,” Michael admits. He invites himself into Tori’s room. Tori doesn’t seem even slightly phased.
Her face goes straight and she pushes the door shut weakly. It clicks. She feels a bit of ease.
“Who says that I am not a barricade?”
Michael stares at her, with a small smile. He was sitting on the bare bed. It had been stripped of its blankets when Tori came down to the floor and the sheets must’ve been tossed around during a fitful sleep. Michael went to sit by Tori by the door. Tori leaned into him a little but didn’t touch him.
“Why are you on the floor? If you don’t mind sharing, that is.”
Tori tilts her head upwards. She can feel her frizzy hair brush against her face. She doesn’t pay any attention to it. She’s much too busy staring at Michael.
He looks so…so Michael. He has his curly Michael hair and his ridiculous Michael glasses. It’s all so Michael. The way his eyebrows crease up only slightly…the glimmer in his multi-colored eyes…the downward flick of his lips; all of it is something Tori knows. She’s familiar with Michael. She feels a little bit of happiness as she stares at him and all of his Michael features.
While she stares at him, she thinks about his question. Should she answer it? Could she answer it?
Tori looks away from Michael.
“I didn’t want to walk,” Tori says, “I don’t…I don’t think I can right now.”
She glances back at him and he’s in thought. She wishes she could get a glimpse inside his brain, just once. She wants to know what he’s thinking, especially right now.
So much time passes that Tori honestly thinks Michael just won’t respond. He hasn’t even opened his mouth. All he’s doing is looking at her with an almost pained curiosity right now. She tries to keep her gaze on the wall or the ceiling, but Michael is like a magnet pulling her in.
She glances over at him. He’s staring at her and then she starts to stare at him. It’s a very uncomfortable staring contest. They just stare. Tori wants him to say something, but he doesn’t so she continues to stare.
“What are you thinking right now,” she pokes.
Michael blinked, “Me?”
Tori frowns. Of course, she was talking about Michael. There is quite literally nobody else she could be talking to. The room is empty, only consisting of Michael and Tori.
Michael’s cheeks turn a little pink. He must’ve realized how positively stupid that question was.
“I don’t know,” he shrugs, “I think I’m thinking about what you’re thinking about, really.”
Tori shifts in her seat and her frown transforms into a scowl. She folds her arms across her chest.
“I’m thinking about what you’re thinking about,” Tori states.
Michael nods and he moves. He sits criss-cross-applesauce, the same way Ollie would, and he faces Tori. His wrists were hanging on his knees and his head was hanging forward.
Tori leans away and can’t help but furrow her eyebrows. What was Michael doing? She really wants to believe she can at least somewhat get him, but he works without logic and Tori can never, ever predict his next move. Maybe that’s why she likes him.
“Are we going to play patty cake?”
Michael smiles and his shoulders straighten, “would you like to?”
Tori blinks, “...No. No .”
She watches in abject horror as Michael slowly claps his hands together in the most exaggerated way he could. He looks like he’s supposed to be a kiddie influencer like Blippi. But he isn’t! He is an eighteen-year-old high schooler who is trying to pay patty cake with his almost-girlfriend-not-quite-girlfriend. He holds his hands up and waits patiently for Tori to clap them.
“This isn’t making me feel better, y’know,” She winces as she claps his hands.
She’s lying. Of course, she is. How could Michael Holden not make her feel a little better? She’s playing patty cake right now.
The two continue to go through the motions of the children’s game. Tori tries not to laugh when she hears Michael muttering the lyrics under his breath. He has a ridiculous amount of focus on the game.
While they are rolling their arms to ‘roll the dough,’ Tori hears Michael click his tongue. She continues to rotate her arms, as does Michael, but her attention isn’t sharpened on the dough-making.
“Did…do you want to talk about it, Tori?”
Tori suddenly feels her mood dim a little. She doesn’t really want to talk about it at all. She wants to just play patty cake - not that she would ever admit that.
They both write a ‘B’ in the air.
“Nothing happened.”
The two of them are sitting directly across from each other and when they motion to put the cake in the oven, their hands touch. Tori’s eyes flicker up to Michael and she expects to see a smile, but he isn’t. Something pulls at her chest.
“Tori, I won’t force you to talk about this, but I just…don’t bottle it up,” Michael says.
Michael and Tori both cradle invisible babies in their arms. They rock them carefully, as if there really, truly was a fragile infant resting.
“I’m just having a day,” Tori resists the urge to glare, “I don’t see why you car-”
Tori stops talking. She forgot she wasn’t supposed to say that anymore. She swallows and it feels dry. She suddenly wants to get a diet lemonade, but she still doesn’t have much motivation to stand. She wonders if she would even drink the diet lemonade if it was handed to her.
“I care because I like you and I don’t want you to treat yourself poorly, because…you don’t deserve that,” Michael grabs Tori’s hand as he speaks.
Tori let their fingers interlock and she feels her bones warm up a little.
She wants to treat herself better. She wants to get up on time and she wants to be able to get out of bed and grab herself a drink. She just cannot muster up enough energy. Everything in her screams and cries when she tries to be an actual fucking human being for once. She knows it’s not normal for most, but it’s normal for her. She could manage.
“Can we just…watch Lord of the Rings?” Tori suggested.
Michael nods firmly, but then he falters. Tori wants to ask whether he changed his mind, but his face shifts into this mischievous, imp-like grin. Tori feels dread and anticipation.
Michael holds out a pinky and he’s wearing a cocky smile, “we watch Lord of the Rings, and then…we watch The Little Mermaid.”
He already knows Tori will agree.
She grimaces, but all of a sudden her pinky is wrapped around Michael’s. She wants to think to herself ‘ I’m going to regret this’ but she knows she won’t. She’ll probably enjoy herself a little.
Michael stands up and places his hands on his hips. He’s so proud. He looks down at her with a flash of confusion when he notices she isn’t making any move to stand.
Tori is staring at her bed. She’s yearning. She wonders how long it’ll take to find the energy to move over there. She wonders how pathetic it would be if she asked Michael if they could watch the movie on the floor, by her door. Really pathetic probably.
Suddenly Michael is back down on the floor. She stares at him.
“I could carry you,” Michael offers.
Tori looks Michael up and down and raises her eyebrow.
He gasps and puts his hand over his heart, “ Tori !”
Tori holds both hands up, claiming innocence. She can feel the small smile spreading on her face as she does it. It feels nice…
She looks at Michael for a few seconds.
“You can try .”
They both knew that Michael was strong enough to lift Tori. She was only teasing, it was a lot easier than saying, “oh, yes, sweet lover-man please pick me up and carry me to my bed! You are so strong and I am oh-so weak and dainty!”
…Well Tori wouldn’t have worded it like that if there was a gun against her head. But if she were to ask, then that is definitely what it would sound like to her mind.
One of Michael’s arms is hooked under her legs and the other is up supporting her back. She feels embarrassed, but calm at the same time. Her arms are wrapped around his neck for extra support. And she’s so conflicted because…because well, it feels really good to be in someone’s arms like this, but at the same time, she feels like a pathetic idiot.
Her internal struggle needs no more time to dwell on because Michael tosses her onto the bed. He doesn’t gently rest her on the mattress at all! Tori wants to glare at him, but he’s flopping onto the bed and casting a shadow right over her. She rolls over quickly before Michael crushes her.
“That’s quite rude,” Tori glares at him, but there is a smile playing on her lips.
Michael grins, ear-to-ear, “is it?”
“Yes, it is.”
Tori twists her torso to grab her laptop which had been tucked between her nightstand and her bed. She doesn’t feel like doing anything else so she plops it onto Michael’s stomach. He makes a noise, but recovers quickly and enters the password. Of course, he knows her password. He’s so weird like that sometimes. Before he can open Netflix, he pauses and looks over at her.
For a minute the two of them are just staring at each other.
“Is there anything I can do to make you feel better?” He offers, just this one, last time.
Tori breathes in, “you’re making me feel better right now, Michael.”
He hesitates, but then he smiles. Tori can’t help but smile a little in return.