Caspian
Iwonder what my band is up to right this very second. Are they rehearsing? And if so, who’s their stand-in drummer? Maybe they’re partying. Are they enjoying not having the train wreck that is me around? Or do they miss me? I wish I could talk to them, especially Atticus. For as long as we’ve been friends, we’ve never gone more than a few days without talking.
I’ve always been somewhat of a recluse. Too much time spent around people drains the fuck out of me. There are periods of time when I enjoy company more than others, though. It’s like I’ll go so long with my cup empty, that I’ll find myself wanting to socialize, only for it to wind up drained again after a few days. Sometimes the mood will last even a week or two.
It always ends up the same, though. The crash. The darkness.
That’s where I’ve been for the last several days—the deep, dark space in my mind. Between the therapy, the group sessions, and all the people I have to be around on a daily basis when I’m doing everything from grabbing food to working out, it’s no wonder I catapulted into the pit of my depression. I’m not used to being around so many people. So, I spent the last almost week holed up in my room. I didn’t leave once. Had food delivered here, told the front desk I didn’t want housekeeping.
The only time I saw anybody was that time a few days ago when Rowan stopped by, and we smoked that joint. Didn’t end well, though. I think I pissed him off somehow because he got up and left without so much as a goodbye.
I’m feeling fucking good today after the two hours I just spent in the gym. First time I’ve left my room in almost a week. It’s a Saturday, and apparently the weekends aren’t too busy in the gym—or at least, it wasn’t today—because it was practically dead in there. I just took a shower back in my room, and I find myself standing in front of Rowan’s door, my fist banging onto it.
The fog in my mind that’s been prevalent the last few days seems to have cleared enough that I find myself craving some human interaction. And even though Rowan annoys the fuck out of me, I don’t mind his presence. His sunshine personality is almost like a breath of fresh air to my own dark, depleted mind. And besides, he seems keen on breaking some of these God-awful rules, which is appealing to me. Not that I’d ever admit that to him.
He doesn’t answer at first, so I start to wonder if maybe he’s not even here. He’s quite social, and probably has friends here already. Just as I’m about to walk away, the door is pulled open. The scent of cedar and vanilla waft out, wrapping around me as his big, dark green eyes collide with mine. His brows are pinched tight as he takes me in, like he’s confused.
“Hey, wanna go down to the waterfall?” I ask him, running my hand through my still damp hair. It hangs past my ears now, and I could really use a haircut, but I kind of dig it being this length.
“Are you for real?” His face is screwed up like he caught a whiff of something sour.
“Uh, yes?” It comes out as a question because his demeanor is throwing me off.
Crossing his arms over his chest, he raises a brow at me. “Earlier this week, you were a huge fucking dick to me, kicked me out of your room, and told me I was annoying. And now, you want to hang out?”
“Whoa, whoa,” I sputter, holding my hands up in front of me. “I never kicked you out of my room. If I recall, you left of your own volition.”
Rowan rolls his eyes. “And the other stuff?”
“I was just fucking with you,” I say. “I didn’t mean it.”
Okay, that’s a little bit of a lie. He annoyed the fuck out of me the other day, but it was more because of my mood than him.
“Really?” He eyes me hesitantly.
“Yeah, man. So, you wanna go?”
I’m antsy, wanting to get outside and enjoy the fresh air. Bouncing back and forth on my feet, I watch as he seems to ponder over my offer. Finally, he gives me a terse nod before he disappears into his room, coming back with his wristband and some other shit he’s stuffing into his pockets.
“Do you have any more weed?” I ask before he shuts the door.
“Yup. In my pocket,” he replies, tapping said pocket. His face is still very deadpan, his usual chipper grin nowhere to be found. I don’t think I like it.
It’s a warm day, but with the breeze, it doesn’t feel stifling. I’ve noticed it’s like that most days—sunny and warm, but not overly so. It must be the tropical climate.
“I see you finally showered,” Rowan blurts out beside me as we make our way down the trail that leads to the waterfall.
An unexpected chuckle bubbles out of me at that. “Yeah, I guess I did.”
“’Bout time,” he mumbles under his breath. “You fucking reeked.”
“A little rude.”
“No, it’s the truth.” He laughs. The sound of his rich, airy laughter is like a weight off my shoulder that I didn’t know was there. His usual happy, social self seems to be coming back from where it seemed missing back at the room.
We get to the fork in the trail. The right side leads off to the waterfall. I haven’t veered off the left yet, but it seems like a good idea today, so I do, knowing he’s following me. The trail itself is small, the two of us barely able to walk side by side with enough room between us to not be brushing shoulders. The tropical vegetation is lush on either side, the trees big and thick enough to block out most of the sunlight as we walk. There’s an ever-present salt water and floral scent that fills the air no matter where you are on the island.
It's a nice scent. Especially when it mixes with the cedar and vanilla one beside me. I wonder if it’s an aftershave or a lotion, or maybe a cologne that he wears. I like it and can’t help but wonder how it would smell with my nose buried in his neck. What his skin would smell like with sweat pouring out of him. I bet it’d still smell sweet.
