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Russel laid awake thinking of his encounter with Icarus earlier that day.
How many times had he thrown up since he got up and walked away? He couldn’t recall. Sure, Russel always got nauseated when he was stressed, even back before Mayday disbanded-of course the others never knew of this to begin with simply because Russel never wanted to burden the younger two with even the slightest issue-but this was a new level.
He was dizzy, dehydrated, and could barely think yet his mind was still racing. Caleb and Icarus were still in the same area as Russel. Not even one of them moved away? The thought of that sounds impossible, especially with their track records.
Yet on top of that, the state Icarus saw him in, already stressed and nauseated, wasn’t one he even showed back when they were friends. Russel was the last one asleep, first one awake, never cried, never had issues to speak on. Yet in front of Icarus, somehow the world wanted him pushed to the brink so badly that it made Russel appear in one of his most vulnerable states.
He sighed. The whole reason he had left the house was because he needed medicine, yet here he was. 104 Fahrenheit. The stress raised his temperature another two degrees, and he was burning.
Burning and still utterly alone.
He turned over on the pillow, blinking slowly. His eye felt itchy, and his hand was clammy when he rubbed it against his closed lids.
When he opened the eye not against the pillow, the lighting suddenly looked a lot brighter in forms of smudges and seemed to streak across his vision. The world seemed to swirl from how sick he was, tilting as similar colored objects seemed to blur together.
He looked around, and saw a familiar two faces there next to him. Icarus’s eyeliner looked lime green in the lighting, and Caleb’s jacket almost burned his eyes due to it being white. It felt like something was wrong, but he didn’t have the energy to find out what.
“Hey Ellernate, are you okay? You don’t look too well..” Caleb’s voice was soft, and he looked concerned.
“We know you like to keep things from us, but it’s okay to ask for help, you know.” Icarus said. He had that little look on his face, the way his bottom lip curled up as if he was pouting when really he was concerned.
Russel almost sat up, but Caleb put a hand on his shoulder. Russel wasn’t sure when Caleb moved from the foot of his bed, but he could barely pick up his head at this point so there was no point to question things.
“Listen, iTrapped is getting you some water okay? We know you keep things from us for our safety, but we do notice and we do care about you..”
Russel teared up a bit at that. “I don’t want you guys to be concerned for me. You’re too young, you have your own concerns.. I just want to make sure the world stays this- nice place in your eyes..”
“I know, but this isn’t good for you. You need to take care of yourself. These can’t keep happening.”
He nodded at Caleb, even if he didn’t want to hear it, it was tearing him apart. He knew his way around answering questions too honest, he could distract the others or turn the conversation around when it got too deep, he could stand straight even when he wanted to crash to the floor. He was so strong. He needed to save his effort..
iTrapped came back with the water, and the concerned smile on his face made Russel feel guiltier than he ever felt.
Caleb helped as Russel sat up to take the water, yet the hand on his shoulder faded from reality when he had both eyes uncovered. The world was no longer pastel swirls of colors and fake truths that whispered sweet lies into his ears. He knew by now he should stop turning to lay with the eye infected by the Luminaria open, and he should have known that his room didn’t have that cotton-candy-and-bubblegum colored lighting. The world didn’t naturally make colors like that, all his lights were off. If he wasn’t so stupid he would’ve been able to see that through being sick, but no! Why would he? He was a fucking idiot.
Even beyond that, beyond how unrealistic it was, beyond the swirls of light, beyond the animated qscratches of color, Russel knew the others didn’t notice it once. He was too good with words. Outsmarted his enemies and friends alike. His friends didn’t care deeply like that. Not for him.
Because they weren’t friends anymore. They weren’t young anymore.
They were all grown men in their late 20’s trying to learn how to deal with the fact they ruined their lives before they were old enough to drink.
He looked up at the ceiling for the hundredth time that night. These thoughts keep swirling, this cycle keeps repeating.
He just wanted sleep, but he had too much going on.
If only he could save these thoughts for tomorrow.