Ignite

Memory Lane is a Two-Way Street

Chirping birds were a telltale sign of spring's true arrival.

Rustling leaves could be heard through a small opening of the partially covered windows. Faint ripples of water from a nearby pool permeated the overall silence as well.

It smelled sweet outside. Like flowers and slightly of heat.

A few trees blocked the picturesque view of awakening plant life. Orange and black wings from a passing butterfly could be seen flapping away through a narrow parting of the curtains.

Alessandro watched the pleasant scene in a numb state.

He'd been awake for a good two hours now, but he didn't have any energy to actually get out of bed. Sitting up on its own was hard enough. When he pulled his legs over the side of the mattress to stand though, they didn't listen to him when he tried to physically make them move.

The necessary bottle of medication sat out of reach.

The distance wasn't even substantial—it only consisted of two, maybe three yards. But because of a mental disconnect, a few yards felt more like thousands of miles. Like the space between the bed and the dresser was lengthened by an obnoxious amount.

A passing thought of getting up brought upon more waves of encompassing exhaustion.

Nothing even happened. Alessandro slept well for once. He didn't have any nightmares or unpleasant dreams. He woke up on his own, rather than forcing himself awake with the incessant blaring of a screeching alarm.

Feeling lost and detached just... happened sometimes.

He barely had the strength to blink. The action only happened because his eyes felt too dry, and that feeling by itself was uncomfortable. As was the ache in his back from staying hunched over, along with a faint itch on his bare thigh that was too much of a hassle to be scratched. Even moving his toes to keep his feet from falling asleep was too much.

The only reason breathing wasn't a difficult stretch was because it was something that was done on autopilot. It didn't need to be forced. Nor was it a gesture that took a tiring amount of thought. His muscles moved on their own accord in that regard.

He relied on the comforting notion that he didn't have to do everything.

"Andro?"

Aside from a slight turn of the head, he didn't answer.

"Are you- are you okay?"

"...Just a little sluggish this morning," he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

It was amazing that Lance even heard the quiet sound. "Can I get you anything?"

Alessandro knew what he needed. His meds were right there. He knew that they'd give him the reprieve he yearned for to get on with the day as planned. He just wasn't too enthusiastic about going through the explanation that would be coupled with retrieving those pills.

Still, Lance wanted to help. So it'd be fair to tell him the truth.

A part of it, anyway.

"I need that orange bottle on the dresser. It's a prescription for an... illness."

Bare feet were heard padding against the floor. Alessandro clenched his jaw when he also heard the familiar sound of pills shifting around in a plastic container. He kept his gaze on the window when Lance took a seat beside him.

"You're..." He paused for a second, unsure of what to actually say. "You're taking antidepressants?"

A single nod answered the straightforward question. "I need two capsules. Don't worry about running to grab water. I can take them dry."