Derelict

From Betweenlines

Alex woke up with his pants still on and the sound of loud cursing in the background.

The tail-ends of warm and fuzzy dreams drifted out of his head, still buried under a nice soft blanket, and he fought back against the first prickings of consciousness telling him I'm not supposed to be home and this isn't my dorm room.

The cursing continued, and was joined by more voices. Memories of the night before trudged in from the back of his mind like rain-soaked travellers.

"Your brows are going to get stuck up there if every little thing I say shatters your world."

Memories, and a deep little kernel of certainty buried somewhere he couldn't quite track, that something in him had changed.

He rolled off the air mattress they had set up in the living room floor and took a moment to yawn deeply. Robert was still asleep on the other one, and he could hear Kyle- the kid in the faux-Secret Service outfit- in the other room, still furious, and discussing something with Ms. Ameri. Alex stood up slowly, keeping the blanket wrapped around himself, and padded into the kitchen to see what was going on.

The details of the conversation largely escaped him, it having drifted towards magical theory, but Kyle's laptop (or one of, likely) was sitting open on the table, so he leaned over a bit to take a peek. The headline was easy enough to read.

His stomach dropped, and he slumped against the wall and down to the floor. Someone was talking to him now, but he couldn't quite understand; a gaping, sick feeling was growing inside of him (loss, loneliness, somehow slightly different than usual) and everything outside of it felt fuzzy.

After several minutes, Alex got back up, found the bathrooms, had a brief chat and something to eat, and finally went back into the living room to take a nap. He never did make it to classes that day.