Nothing had happened, is the point. Nothing had changed. Nothing that would explain why he’d had to choke down his dinner, had only managed part of it in the end, left the half-eaten remains to go bad in his kitchen sink.
Nothing had happened that would explain how when he’d gone to get undressed for bed that night he just… couldn’t. How the thought of taking off the heavy sweats he’d spent the evening in felt unnervingly like peeling off his own skin. How he’d crawled into bed still fully clothed, still cold, had curled into a ball, tucked deep under his duvet. How he’d just… gone.
Nothing had happened that would explain why he was still curled into that ball, still fully clothed in the dark all those hours later. Still awake, still gone.
He’s cold.
In which Jamie has a very-bad-brain-day and Roy tries to help.
AKA: ‘I feel like I’ve lost my wings Roy’: but make it much, much worse.
incredibly ironic to me that i spent all of high school putting all my stats into math and science bc ~women in stem~ but i’ve never been happier than now when i get to study arguably the most human of the humanities (anthropology) and i’m cranking out multiple thousands of words a day of bullshit analysis, having the time of my life AND not having to attend 8am calc classes. triple win (does not have to think about physics).