Chapter Text
I'm fading in and out of consciousness this morning, as if my brain is trying to tell me 'Hey, keep it together, you've got important things to be doing!' And it couldn't be more correct, I revel in the fact that I can push my body to it's limits, for I do not understand why there are millions of people willing to restrain themselves to the bare minimum.
I treated myself this morning to a warm mug of vanilla flavoured coffee, rather than my flavourless mixture I'd drink on an average day. It's best consumed black, drinking coffee without fats or sugars ensures the caffeine is delivered into my blood stream at a faster rate. Collectively throughout this recent night I've managed approximately 1 hour, 28 minutes and 3 seconds of sleep so you can trust me when I say I need this boost of energy in the mornings.
But I absolutely know who doesn't, my girlfriend Pencil bursts into the kitchen, she's looking a lot more giddy even for herself. Usually despite her energy she's about as groggy as me first thing in the morning. She's slowing her pace at my presence as I slurp my coffee, leaning on the kitchen island for support. My doctor told me recently that I'm anaemic, but I reassured him I'm just dedicated. I'd tell you what my therapist said but I quit attending 5 years ago after they told me my mental health could be more detrimental than I like to make it out as.
Pencil wraps her arms over my neck, pecking my forehead like a mother bird, our height difference is comical.
"You're sure looking, refreshed and energised." She cackles sarcastically, my shoulders slump.
"I'm just kidding baby, is the coffee helping?"
I let out a hoarse chuckle under my breath, "If it wasn't I think I'd be dead by now." She's not looking reassured by this, I sigh as the steam coming from the coffee fogs up my lenses. Her expression lights up again as she remembers what she must be so excited about.
"Do you know what day it is Golf Ball?" She squeezes me a little bit tighter, I look up at her, unimpressed.
"Tuesday, 17th of February, I know Valentines day was 3 days ago but I think we're pushing it a bit if we're going to continue the celebrations 3 days after the occasion, babe." She scoffs back in my face, huffing at me.
"I knew you'd forget!" She whines "It's literally the best day of the year, it's PANCAKE day!" I poke her cheek lovingly, placing my empty cup in the sink.
"You and your sweet tooth. This is such a minor holiday, I don't even remember the last time I ate pancakes." I do remember, I was 8 years old trying to make them myself, this very day 14 years ago my hands received several 3rd degree burns after I got a little too confident with the stove. It was not a fun 2 hour walk to the ER, lousy parents. I decide not to tell Pencil this, because then she's going to be insistent that we have pancakes for breakfast, lunch and dinner.
She adjusts her beret on her head before finally coming to a sad realisation, "So.. we don't have pancake mix?.. Or even pancake ingredients?"
"Pencil our fridge is empty around 80% of the time, we're so poor this is why we've collectively lost 20 pounds since college." I remind her, although half of my grocery money is going on coffee and cigarettes truthfully.
"Um! 15 of those pounds are yours, you scrawny twig." She wraps her fingers around my wrist, I roll my eyes in response, we are getting side tracked per usual.
"Anyways, we can afford to buy some pancake mix at least! Too bad we can't get the fresh stuff though, or even go to IHOP.."
"I'm awfully busy you know.. I've got.." I try to think of something, truthfully I've polished off the vast majority of my recent projects in the previous 2 sleepless nights. I'm such a ninja at this Pencil has never noticed me climbing out of bed. "Inventions.. to be continuing."
"Boring! Ugh, do you really only save days off for the significant holidays? No, we're making fuckin' pancakes and it's gonna be DELICIOUS!" Drooling at the thought she hoists me up and drags me outside to walk to the nearest convenience store.
"I'm not even ready for the day!" I groan, flailing my arms to be put down.
"Since when did you care about that? They're gonna sell out unless we hurry up!" She's being so dramatic, our local town is 80% old folk who quite frankly aren't very interested in spending their relaxed Tuesday mornings flipping pancakes. But our other 20% are all of our gluttonous beasts of friends, so she might have a point, we watch as Ruby shoots down the road like a ravenous squirrel and we crack up.
Our local store is in the town centre, for a convenience store it is rather inconvenient purely because of these circumstances, the town centre is unusually bustling especially for our small town. We've been walking for around 20 minutes and I'm admittedly exhausted, my eyes fluttering as I tread across the street.
"You really need to get out more." Pencil remarks, brushing my hair out of my face so I can get a hold of my vision. I'm not really listening at this point but nevertheless we continue until we reach the busiest roads, it's about five in a row we cross over before we're anywhere near the store. The sun invades my eyes, it's luminosity blinding me as we walk. Pencil yanks my arm not before I hear a CRUNCH among my toes, and the pain shoots throughout me.
So, you've stubbed your toe before obviously, I just wanted to check just to put into perspective the abundance of pain I experienced at this moment. The car just speeds by, unaware of the situation it's put me in. I let out a blood curdling scream, the tiny little nerves in my feet are letting out their own individual blood curdling screams. Passers by are staring at me like I'm some sort of alien. Pencil's staring at me as if she's going to shove me into the traffic herself.
"GOLF BALL YOU FUCKING IDIOT!" She screams at me as I fall to my knees on the path, groaning in pain, nausea hits me like an ocean as my whole body is shuddering like a Victorian child on their deathbed.
I'm being rather dramatic thinking back on this now, but no not really. This hurt REALLY fucking bad, and that's quite frankly the best way I can describe it.
"This is why I tell you to be careful!" She lectures me, I lower my head in guilt as she helps me to my feet. We quickly realise I am, to say the least, unable to walk so she lifts me into a bridal carry.
"I never get to have anything good happen to me! Now we can't make pancakes!" She groans expressively and we begin our awkward route to the ER.
Unsuprisingly, I've broken my foot, the doctor asks me how it happened and embarrassingly I had to tell him,
"Uh.. I was really tired so I accidentally walked into traffic and got my foot flattened.." Obviously this isn't a professional way to deliver this information, but it sums it up about right.
We arrive back home, without our pancakes, our dignity and now with a traumatic foot injury. I think Pencil is taking this to heart a lot more than I am though, about my sleeping, she's hardly angry anymore; In fact, she's more concerned than anything and she lays me down in our bed.
"This happened because you don't sleep, or drink water.. or actually fucking eat. You're better than this level of clumsiness, this is Tennis Ball level bad, and it's because you're killing yourself." She crosses her arms, leaving me to bathe in this guilt before I can manage to get a word in.
It's hitting me now what I'm doing, and it's hurting her more than it's hurting me.
But I can't stop.