|Liam Roberts was once an (author) wrote in doorslogs,|
@ 2013-04-18 18:59:00
|Entry tags:||curt connors, fandral|
Who: Liam Roberts
What: Time for a change
Where: Liam's hotel room
Warnings/Rating: Some unsettling imagery.
There came a point in every life where one looked in a mirror and realised that something had to change. It wasn’t an easy realisation, and oft times, it hurt more to open one’s eyes to what reality had given them than to drift back into the fantasy, but it was the strength that was necessary to realise that something had to be done that made taking the first step just a bit easier.
It happened late one night, or maybe it was early morning. Time was defined by how dark the sky was, the world he had sunk to live in not guided by hours and minutes. He slept most when it was light, roamed when it was dark, and he knew it wasn’t really living, but until recently, that hadn’t mattered to him. But when he looked in the mirror that night, standing in front of the washbasin without his shirt on, and saw what had happened to him, Liam realised that something had to change. Collar bones jutted out obscenely, pale white skin pulled taut, the smattering of freckles over his chest and shoulders a dark contrast against the pallor of his skin. He could nearly count every rib when he stretched to the side, tracing their shapes beneath tissue-thin skin, and he couldn’t remember the last time he had had a real meal. Two days ago? Three? The bag of apples he had bought had been thrown away, rotting things that were attracting flies, but that was days ago, some far off time that he couldn’t put a name to any longer. But hunger wasn’t a thing that bothered him, not so long as there was something to wash it all away, and he knew that was the problem.
Pulling away from the mirror, Liam sought out his t-shirt, pulled it over his head and tugged it down, one hand raking through the messy mop of dark hair that had long since lost its lustre. He needed to go out, to find someone on the streets that could offer a bit of relief from everything, but somehow, he couldn’t make his feet move towards the door, couldn’t make his hand open up the door. Instead, Liam sank down to sit heavily on the worn out mattress in his cheap hotel room, blue eyes staring ahead blankly. This life, what he was doing, it couldn’t proceed like this. Death would be better than this, and that was something that Liam simply couldn’t comprehend. There was more that he wanted from this world, but nothing was going to happen like this.
He flopped back on the bed, one arm draped over his eyes, blocking out the buzzing fluorescent light overhead. Time ticked on, minutes into hours, and he couldn’t tell how long he had laid there except for the fact that sunlight was peaking through the drawn curtains, a sliver of light into a dark world. And as he rolled over onto his side, curling up with one arm tucked beneath his head, the other reaching out towards the nightstand where his phone rest, the emptiness made itself known. It was a stillness in his head, a quiet that he almost missed had he not been thinking on Connors right then. Connors, calm, quiet Connors with his science and his obsessions. There was nothing left but a silence that was almost unnerving. Too long he’d been used to someone up there, a presence, a feeling, a fullness that gave him some security, but now, there was nothing, and its absence was jarring.
Stretching, Liam snagged the phone that sat on the bedside table, and without sitting up, he pushed the buttons to pull up a familiar contact. Something needed to change, and this was where it needed to start. Holding the ringing phone to his ear, Liam pulled his knees up towards his chest, closed his eyes, and waited for life to flutter awake on the other end of the connection.
“Hey,” he said, the moment the line opened up. “It’s me.”