Fame

I was sick. Sick of people, sick of life, and honest to goodness feverish-cough-and-cold sick. It was affecting my business especially, I sat in my office all day, trying desperately not to throw up all over my designs and frantically jumping up every few minutes to make sure my employees had followed my orders and kept all the members of the Jonas family (and mine, too) out and away at all times, before returning to my seat and falling into it, absolutely spent.

I just didn't know where to go.

The store wasn't safe, it had my freaking name on the front. Everyone knew I spent all my time here. Going home and having to deal with the unmanageable and childish Spencer was a death sentence for me, he was either sulking around the house or out for hours at a time. And where else did I really have to go? Bothering friends and family will the stupid things that kept me awake at night was unnecessary, it would just cause a whole lot of attention and problems. I'd never have the independence I preferred so much. 

Unfortunately, I wasn't sure I preferred it anymore. Sitting at my desk with my eyesight blurry and sniffling pathetically, each second spent with my thoughts was making me sadder. My thoughts were driving me into a deep abyss of life-sucks.

And gods I was tempted to go and throw myself to someone, anyone, and beg for mercy. Obviously I had done something terrible.

Okay. I lied. I just wanted to throw myself at Nick's feet and beg for love. 

I shook my head roughly, groaning as my sinus induced headache worsened and the room spun. I needed a break. It had only been two days of hiding out here. That wasn't so long. 

I idly remembered the chinese food brought to me by a employee and spied it on the desk, feeling myself become nauseous as I examined the greasy noodles. I clapped my hands over my mouth and slid off my chair, huddling in the little cool alcove underneath my desk and inwardly sighing as the feeling passed. 

Please sleep. Please please please. 

I felt euphoria surge through me as my eyes closed and my head nodded downwards gently... And then stumbled out from under the desk, crawling to my trash can and dunking my head into it, retching out the nothing I had eaten. 

I couldn't stand anything anymore. All I could smell was puke, and it made me want to upchuck more and more. I couldn't... I hadn't eaten in so long.

I pushed the trash can away, rolling lazily till I met something hard. A corner. It had hurt my head, but all I could sense were spots. Brown, curly, soft spots. With faces that had beauty marks and moles and dimples and-

Shit.

I threw up again, a feeling of guilt coming over me as footsteps passed my the door. My poor employees with no direction. They needed me to tell them exactly what to do. I had a design to make! George Clooney needed a new suit and I was the one he wanted.

But Nick also wanted me. Except not like George because George Clooney was old. Nick was young and supple and so much bigger than me. Big and strong.

I threw up.

I brought a hand to my face. It didn't seem so hot. Yet the world still hurt to look at. I sat up, weakly tying my hair back, glaring distastefully at the strands that reeked of sickness and my stomach juices.

"How do you love me now, huh, Nick?" I said bitterly, a sneeze ruining the dramatic effect. 

Love. I nearly laughed to myself. He'd never seen my throwing up all over myself. If he 'loved' me after that I'd be surprised. But not convinced. Liars do exist, after all. Hadn't I lied to him before?
I squinted. Had I? I couldn't remember.

I looked toward the door again. It wa safely locked, and I slid to the ground again, finding it cold and soothing. I would sleep this off and then everything would be fine.

Just a little bit longer. I think we all know how I'll be then.
(fine)