Rough Night

Writer's Note: Hello! I am not GivenUpOnTrying, the illustrious creator of this story, but I have been graciously allowed to continue the ****-option for this story. I love the story and the characters that they've made so I hope I do them justice with my own interpretation of a separate timeline.

A flash of a red. A disturbingly pleasant tingling sensation and my eyes blink open suddenly. I’m sticky, my bed’s sticky, my pyjamas are sticky—I feel so gross.

Even if I wanted to lie back down and ignore what I had just been thinking, I can’t; my mind’s whirring away like an engine, unable to settle down.

I swallow, my throat dry. What’s the time? Too early, that’s what.

I make my way downstairs, legs wobbly as I lean against the wall, my whole body weak. My mind is hazy as I mechanically pour myself a fresh, cooling glass of water. I raise it to my lips, ready to take a drink-

The computer has been left on. The light’s shining, the lock screen on display, agonisingly bright to my eyes. Without thinking, I swiftly turn it off, gulping down the water as steadiness returns to my legs.

Why was it on? Probably Rouge, working away on the fifteenth iteration of an essay that only requires suboptimal effort, knowing her.

Did I only just miss her or did she leave it on over night? Not like it matters; anything to stop myself from thinking about that dream. Nope. Not thinking about it.

The water was nice. Glass empty, I returned to my bed, flopping down like a dead fish as I just stared at the red lettering on my bedside alarm, like it was judging me. Judge away; I have no idea what you’re thinking about.

But I can’t just stay here; not only do I have to get to school, I need a shower--a thorough shower—and to change my bed sheets but that can happen after school.

Usual routine by now; stripping, showering, brushing my teeth, drying my hair so quickly it’s like I’m trying to scrub the colour out of it. I had time to spend with the shower head but after yesterday…No, definitely not. Way too personal right now.

I quickly pull out a mis-matching pair of knickers and bra, one blue and the other green. Why aren’t they the same colour? Who knows; it’s not like they’ve got my name inscribed in them. Their other halves are probably lost in Rouge’s room, living on the other side of the train tracks.

I put them on easily enough, latching the bra together without a hint of the nervous energy my limbs had earlier.

The uniform comes afterwards, freshly cleaned and with a side of trousers as I juggle my desire for smoothness and my waning desire to exert effort. The lazy half of me wins out, in the end.

I don’t do anything special with my make-up. Simple and subtle is my mantra; less reason for people to notice and point it out. Not like that’s stopped them in the past, though.

All ready and I’ve still got a spare half an hour before I have to leave. Maybe I’ll actually have breakfast today? The joys of sleep deprivation, I suppose.

I drag my laptop onto my legs, enjoying the subdued warmth like a long-lost lover as it boots up. Checking the socials—not that I have much of a presence—nothing new there, there, or th-

A friend request? Sure looks like one but the fact that I’m me makes me doubtful.

Opening it up reveals even more reason to not believe it’s veracity: Trish Patel.

Yep; definitely her. The face I can’t take out of my mind matches, as well as the limited information she has on her bio.

I check again that the thing’s real, for some reason. I groan, too tired to be dealing with this so early in the morning. Just treat it like the dream and ignore it. I need some food in my system and fast.

I head downstairs, pulling my old, trusty bag and jacket with me, clunking against the stairs with the bulk of school work stuffed inside.

“Pick your bag up,” My mum’s voice rings out softly but gently. Guess she’s up.

And nearly heading out as well; she’s already dressed for work and is halfway through putting on her coat as I enter the living room.

“I’m heading out early. Make sure you and Rouge eats cereal or has breakfast at school; I’ve topped up both of your cards.” She says, hastily making her way out of the door to attend to whatever poor animal is currently in need.

In case it wasn’t obvious, she’s works at an animal shelter. Not great money but we get by well enough with Jasper helping out and it’s always been her passion.

“Give me a call if you need me. Love you!” She nearly shouts as the door closes, in too much of a hurry to hear my own ‘love you’ as the door slams shut.

Well, guess no handmade breakfast for me.

In fact, I don’t see my sister at all as I leave the house, locking the door behind me. The walk to school passes by quickly and I’m through the gates without trouble. Huh. I was expecting more nerves than this.

“Bonjour!” A jubilant voice calls out to me. Oh, there they are. My nerves resurge as I lay my eyes on the resplendent Elise, quickly walking up to me with a smile on her face. Her make-up is perfect and even the way her skirt sways with her movement makes her look like someone out of a movie. It should be a crime to be that beautiful!

“Hello,” I manage to get out before quickly realising that’s not enough to keep her attention on me. “I was just getting something to eat.”

“Don’t mind if I join you?” God, no. Join me every day from now on.

“Not at all.”

We head into the cafeteria, grabbing a simple breakfast consisting of an omelette. It’s not much but more than my culinary skills can make. Besides, anything tastes good when you have a literal sun sitting next to you.

I tuck into my breakfast and the next thing I know:

“Do you mind if I sit here?” A surprisingly nervous voice asks. Why would I mind? It’s not like I’ve got a crowd of people dying to be with me.

The answer reveals itself as the third last person I’d imagine saying that is standing right in front of me.

I almost drop my fork in shock.

Trish Patel.