Free-Jones Apartment
New York City
United States of America
February 2121
By the divine grace of whichever deity, she
had somehow gotten Ansel to take his sleeping pills (aside from this other
pill) and sleep. While it took her a full ten minutes of searching whether they
could mix pills or not, Ansel dryly mentioned that it was okay and that she
shouldn’t worry. Despite his attempts at reassuring her, Elena made sure to
keep a close eye on him while he slept.
The brunette conked out immediately. Ansel
went out like a light within a few minutes of sinking into the mattress; Elena
had watched as he struggled to stay awake and managed a short conversation with
her. When he had stopped replying, she checked and the male was already out –
she ended up having to take his glasses off so that he could rest comfortably.
Elena resisted the urge to reach out and
stroke his cheek, lest she wake him up. The bags under his eyes were a little
more prominent than usual, and Ansel looked horribly pale. Somehow, sleep was
the best state for him at the moment.
Her phone buzzed. Removing it from her
pocket, she saw a message from Marion waiting for a reply.
[Marion Salazar]: is he
asleep?
[Elena Jones]: Yeah. He
took a sleeping pill
At that, Elena realized how…odd it was for
Ansel to have sleeping pills just comfortably chilling in their medicine
cabinet. She had never noticed it – not even when they had first moved in and
had to put all their belongings into their respective places.
So
what the hell is it doing there?
While watching, Elena realized that there
were still things he kept under wraps. While Elena was the type who really
didn’t hide as much, Ansel was the kind who made sure that certain aspects of
his life were left well hidden. In fact, she realized that she didn’t know as
much about his childhood social life or anything related to it.
It was as if Ansel was ashamed of his past.
[Marion Salazar]:
oh…that’s good
[Marion Salazar]: sort of
idk but that’s still good progress
[Marion Salazar]: just
keep watching over him
The male gave another noise and struggled
lightly in his sleep, brows furrowing. Elena watched worriedly and he made
small noises until he stopped, relaxing and continuing to rest up in his spot.
From where she was, Elena could hear the sound of unclear mumbling from his
side of the bed.
Getting (and convincing) Ansel to rest was
a hard affair. She had let him off the past couple of days, but all of that
changed when she caught him sneaking a few energy drinks into the house. He had
given her a guilty look, but upon seeing her grab for the drinks to most likely
throw away (if not keep them elsewhere), the look on his face was something
else.
It was at that point that she decided nope and promptly forced him to change
in his comfiest sleepwear and to get into bed without complaining. He had tried
to convince her to let him off, but she gave a glare that could cut through
diamonds. Ansel proceeded to follow her without much complaint after that.
Energy
drinks, she thought, energy drinks and staying up late to work. He’s going too far. He’s
definitely going too fucking far.
The brunette exhaled and ran her hands
through his hair gently, trying to maintain a slow, calm pattern as she
attempted at soothing him in his sleep. As frustrating as it was, she still
didn’t know what was up with him. All Ansel had been was tired; he was tired
and crankier and moodier and more withdrawn. What had been sleepy morning
kisses instead turned into half-hearted forehead kisses and waking up ahead of
her so that he could work.
(She wasn’t even sure if he had slept on
some nights.)
She wondered how many energy drinks he had
abused the past couple of days and nights. Then again, thinking of how much
trash he had forced his body to take was something that shot ice down her
spine.
Ansel mumbled something yet again. This
time, Elena struggled to listen to him and tried to make out whatever he was
saying.
“Just want to rest,” he said. His eyes were
half-open but unfocused; words slurred and slow and thick like they were when
he was drunk. “Want to rest…”
“You are resting,” she answered to herself.
As if hearing her, Ansel made a grunt and shook his head. He was probably
dreaming of talking to the Elena conjured by his mind. “Ansel…what’s wrong?”
She hadn’t meant for it to come out as an
actual question.
But Ansel, who was still half-asleep and
groggy and exhausted, strung together a few phrases this time. Elena then
realized that he was in the middle of sleep and wake; it was the perfect time
to get answers from Ansel’s filter-less state. Though she felt bad for having
to do it, she pushed the guilt away.
“What’s wrong…?”
“…tired.”
She tried to get another answer from him,
but Ansel didn’t dare say anything else, eyes fluttering completely shut this
time.
As the hours passed, Elena busied herself.
The female was propped on the couch, completing a digital commission while
drinking a mug of tea when she heard slow steps from the hallway. She glanced
up and smiled a bit upon seeing Ansel’s sleepy figure standing there. “Feel
better?”
“I ‘unno,” Ansel mumbled. He managed to stagger
to the kitchen, getting himself something to drink. Elena watched him from the
corner of her eye. “Sort of feel like shit right now.”
“Why…?”
“M’not used to sleeping at long hours,” he
told her. Ansel got his drink and made his way to her, sitting down with a soft
groan, “So now my body’s really, really heavy and I feel groggy.”
“You wouldn’t feel like that if you got
some more rest,” she chastised him. Ansel smiled slightly and took a sip from
his mug, soon putting it down and leaning against the couch, closing his eyes.
“Ansel…”
“Mm?” he turned his head towards her. Elena
had put down her mug and her tablet, and was merely watching him this time.
“You’ve been worrying us lately…Marion
especially. She didn’t really tell me why she was worried, but she just was.”
Elena shifted awkwardly on the couch, Ansel still looking at her. “We’ve all
been worried, Ansel. We just want to know what’s going on with you.”
At that point, he looked away and gave a
quiet sigh. “…it’s difficult to explain, Lena.”
“So you know what’s going on with
yourself–”
“I do,” he cut. “I know. And Marion knows.
I’m thankful she didn’t say anything about it, really.” He glanced at her,
“Lena…I want to tell you what’s up. I really, really do.”
“…but it’s hard?”
“It’s hard to open about it. It’s nothing
wrong with you, really. It’s just…it’s just really hard to open up about it.”
Ansel closed his eyes. Beside him, Elena slowly inched closer. “There’s such…a
large fucking stigma on it and because of that, I never want to tell anyone
about it anymore.” he slumped against the couch, Elena taking his hand and
squeezing it gently. He barely opened his eyes, “I want to tell you about it.
When I can. But now…it’s too fucking difficult for me to.”
She nodded.
“…I’m sorry.”
“For what?”
“I know it’s like – like I don’t trust
you,” he murmured. Elena leaned her head on his shoulder and listened. “And I
do trust you. I trust you a whole lot, Lena…I want to tell you what’s going on with me if it makes you feel
better and I hate leaving you in the dark like this,” he started rambling. She
noticed his fingers start to tremble and she squeezed tighter in hopes of
soothing him, “but it’s just so fucking hard to – to tell and then worry what
they’ll think of you when you do.”
Elena nudged his shoulder gently, causing
him to open his eyes and look at her. Still the same Ansel – the same Ansel
with tired, worried eyes.
She lifted his hand and pressed a kiss to
his knuckles slowly. “You don’t have to tell me now.”
“But–”
“You don’t,” she repeated. “Not now. Okay?”
the male nodded, hesitating, and Elena pulled away to open her arms.
Understanding, Ansel let himself shift into her hold and eventually found
himself lying in her lap. It felt strange and a little awkward to have his tall
form curled up on the couch, but the warmth of her and the lack of judgment on
her side made it all the better.
He felt her stroke his hair gently, running
her fingers through it and taking care to rub his head.
“You’ll be okay. I know you will be.”
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