You Decorated My Universe (Stevencest)

EIGHT

TRIGGER WARNING: Depression and Suicidal Thoughts (I was depressed while writing this.)

It's been eight days since I've stepped out of my room, not in the mood of going to work, hang out with my friends, or at least roam around the house—I don't feel like doing anything, in general.

I'm completely stuck in my bed, staring at the window pane watching the sky cry continuously.

I feel hungry, but I didn't give a damn thing about it. I ignored the growling sounds and let the numbness spread my entire body. I wouldn't be in this mess if it weren't for her. I'm supposed to be gleeful and positive like I always do, but the odds turned against me. The pain really stuck with me for a while, now it's just complete nothingness. I'm, in any possible way, not incredibly fine.

Think of your next actions carefully is what I have in my thought loop.

I think it's time I should do it.

I pulled out my phone from my pocket and dialed Connie's number. It rang as it continued to do so until she finally picked up.

She spoke, "Steven, you called?"

"Are you available?" I asked her.

"Well, yeah, I guess."

"Meet me at Lawrence Arts Center today at five. Don't be late."

"What?"

I hung up instantly, throwing the phone to the side as I get up to get my towel. I took my clothes off and stepped in the shower. I dried myself after a ten minute bath. I threw the towel on the bed, revealing me fully naked taking out my clothes from the cabinet.

Pink walked into the room unexpectedly.

He stared at me like he didn't care that I'm completely exposed. "Where are you going?"

"For real?" I said with a raised brow.

"What, it's not like we don't have the same dick?"

"I don't care. Get out."

Pink closed the door after my response.

LAWRENCE ARTS CENTER (5:00 PM)

...

I was on my own, gazing upon the fascinating paintings hanged on the walls, one by one. Ashes by Edvard Munch really caught my eye. I stared at it because it intrigued me, and I was curious what the inspirations were put into this masterpiece.

Someone stormed into the room, but I couldn't take my eyes off of the painting. It must be her.

"Hey, Steven," Connie's voice spoke. "Sorry, I'm late. Traffic has been going wild today." She attempted to embrace me in the back, but I shrank over to the side just to avoid it. "Is there a problem?"

I sighed. "I wanna break up with you."

"What? Why?"

I turned to her in question. "Should I be the one asking you that?"

It took her a moment to realize that I was being serious. She made a serious expression. "What did you find out? Whatever you see, it's not real. Don't believe in what you see—"

I butted in, "It doesn't matter what they show to me, okay? My decision is final."

Her hands grasped both of my shoulders as she planted her expanded eyes at mine. "Steven, I told you, nothing happened between me and Charlie. That was just one time, nothing else."