His phone rings

He knows. He can hear the distant ringing coming from the living room. He knows he should pick it up, make an end to the constant worry everyone has.

He can't though, pick it up. His legs feel too heavy to stand up and unable to hold his body weight. Instead, he lets it ring, throws his blankets over his head and curls himself in a ball.

It probably isn't important anyway. It doesn't feel important, nothing really does anymore.

Maybe it's his mum, always worried about him and asking him questions. He doesn't have it in him to care, not after she went behind his back asking Seb to keep an eye out for him.

He couldn't do anything in peace anymore. His every movement followed by at least one set of eyes and Seb only did it because he was worried too. Sebastian didn't even like him.

Today was a bad day, he knew that the minute he opened his eyes. He can feel the difference, they aren't hard to distinguish from each other; The good and the bad.

On bad days he wakes up feeling tired despite having a decent night's sleep. His eyelids feel heavy like he has cried without a stop and he can clearly feel the hole in his chest that seems to expand with every heavy breath he takes. On bad days he wraps himself in dozens of blankets, let's the curtains closed and let his phone ring endlessly.

His bad days became routine a long time ago. Ignoring the inevitable phone calls, curling in on himself with his blanket over his head as though it would make everything disappear and eventually, when he finally found the energy to drag himself out of his bed- or when someone became so worried about him that they visited his apartment and had to physically drag him out of bed- he pulled his sweater over his head.

It was his bad day sweater, still smelled like him. Not hospital him, but being at a karting track him, making dinner for his family him.

The him he wished he could remember.