Lit Pills

Don't fear death

*Charlie's P.O.V*

Nightmares. Desi said that when she heard her parents were dead, she thought it was a nightmare.

I told her I understood. But I don't. I don't understand nightmares, how to grieve, or how to advise someone on grieving. For me, making my friends and family happy was my coping mechanism, followed by working because the one thing Sydney taught me was to aim high.

She wanted me to succeed. So I will.

This is why, upon learning that my Brazil trip is actually on Saturday, I don't complain. I nod along to every plan my superiors have for me. They know better. They've been in the fashion industry longer than me.

I return from work to meet Harry, who is surprisingly quiet. Guessing this isn't the time to announce my trip, I quirk, "What's up?"

"Caelen." He sits up, staring at his phone.

I glimpse its screen and frown. "What about her? Are you texting her?"

"Na. Doesn't feel like she will respond." He sighs. "Like she's no more interested in me or something. And Willem said she quit. Left a random mail saying she's travelling."

"Oh. You liked her?"

"Mm." Harry shrugs. "Maybe, cuz I'm not used to rejection, it's rubbing on me the wrong way." Then he stands as though this one rejection is worth a million. "Anyway, you too. What's up?"

"I'll be travelling to Brazil on Saturday."

"So soon?"

I hate when I have to burst his bubble - he must have thought his stay would be fun. "You can still have fun with Leo."

"Oh please," Harry chuckles. "Leo has become a workaholic like you. He won't be around often."

"We are not workaholics," I slip off my shoes. "And um, sorry."

Harry sighs, then, in a split second, winks. "You are gonna be with Monet, huh? -"
I flee before he reuses his favourite torture method - teasing. His laughter trails me until the dog barks, causing him to yelp.

*

I thought travelling would be a piece of cake, but no. Harry packs for me with his taste varying from cool to over-revealing.

Then there is Leo, squinting at my every move, acting like my entire line of male ancestors. "You better not go and starve there or else -"

"Or else what?!"

"I'll deflate you myself."

"Leo, I'm not a balloon!" I puff, running out with my luggage. My taxi is already waiting, so I make a decent goodbye of a smile to my friends instead of the usual, chaotic hug. I'll be gone for a month anyway. It's not that long - and hopefully, it will stay that way.

Monet joins me at the airport. We fly economy class, much to her disappointment, but our designated limousine in Rio makes up for it. This is my first time in Brazil, so every bit of the experience is exhilarating. I take so many pictures, even of the apartment.

"This place is too small," Monet grumbles as we settle in. I am more unnerved that we'll be here alone.

A new day brings a new complaint: time. Monet forgets we are in a new timezone, so she sleeps in. I try to wake her up, but she smacks me across the face.

Before we know it, she's running helter-skelter while I ask the driver to wait. We're almost late for the fitting.

The helter-skelter-ing doesn't cease due to our increased working hours. Thursday, for instance, we didn't even sleep because we had to meet thirteen designers in different locations. There's barely time for leisure, so I don't mind Monet spending her nights out.