Dealing With Absence » h. styles au

17ᵀᴴ CHAPTER

                                                   17ᵀᴴ CHAPTER               

          “No one really has a bad life. Not even a bad day. Just bad moments” 

It’s raining.

Which should be a great thing in and out itself. The way the sounds on the ceiling cover all the rest going down in the asleep city, the chilly wind sneaking through the cracks of the window enough so Elisha can feel the need to hug her blanket a bit tighter. It should be great because rainy days are the ones when she sleeps the best, when the soft knock of the water drops above her head lull her into calm and steady breathings.

So, well. It should be great. Except.

Except there’s a leak on her ceiling. There’s a freaking leak on her ceiling, and not only that, but it’s right above her damn head, which has her awake, pissed and wet (no pun intended, don’t go there) at three fucking forty-three in the morning. She must’ve thrown the heavier pebbles at Jesus’ cross. It’s the only explanation she can find as to why the world is so unfair to her.

Elisha stands up furious already, glares at the ceiling only to see a huge creak starting from somewhere near the window until right above her bed, where there’s water pooling and falling rhythmically. When she stares down at the mattress, the darker, damp patch at the surface’s material switches something inside her; not specifically anger.

Instead, she only breathes out a long sigh, having forgotten long ago how windstorms could affect her nights of sleep. (About a year ago, when she couldn’t handle it anymore, she’d called PJ full on two and a half in the morning, whining until he agreed to come to try and fix the leaking on the ceiling. It had mainly worked, up until now, apparently).

Now, though, she’s having none of it. There’s no way she’s handling this issue again when she could obviously be getting some more sleep.

So she drags her feet lazily on the floor toward the opposite wall of the room, kicking all of her clothes away from a corner only to pile them in another one, emptying the floor so she can drag the bed to this side, hopefully avoiding waking up soaked for at least a few nights. She’ll have to deal with it, though.

Her arms are not fully aware of their functions, however, so it takes her a few lame attempts and some knee-help before the bed finally moves, with an annoying sound of scratching muffled by the carpet below her feet. Tired and sleepy-hazed, she slumps her body over the bed and lies there for what seems a decade, the view of the ceiling she’s provided with now not showing any signs of leaking just yet.

After, Leesh walks to the bathroom half-heartedly only to grab a plastic bucket and place it where the raindrops should be wetting her carpet. The sound it causes echoing in the plastic is far more annoying; at least until it fills with more water, but if Leesha focuses enough, maybe she’ll be able to block it out.

Hopefully.

She spreads the duvet over on the bed, pulling her pillow above it and grabbing another blanket to cover herself, since the duvet is nothing but a shield from the wet spot on her mattress. It’s not longer before she’s finally comfortable again, except this time around the sound of the rain is not half as pleasant, because there’s the insistent falling of noisy drops into an empty surface, and it’s just so loud.

Elisha pulls the blanket over her ears, turns to face the wall and prays sleep will knock her soon enough, but then there’s another sound, a soft knock on the wall, and Jesus. Can’t she just sleep again.