Whoever invented caffeine deserved all of the awards of the highest caliber. At this point Lucas was running solely on the power boosts of coffee, splashes of cold water and sheer willpower. If he hadnโt run out of energy drinks and caffeine pills a while ago, those would be on the list as well. The life of a college student was thankless and relentless โ exams and essays piling on top of each other with no visible end in sight. Add a heap of responsibility on top of that of checking in with his mother, working as a stage manager at a struggling theater company and juggling an extra part-time job on the side, Lucas was overworked and underpaid. It was alright, human beings donโt need sleep.
The light of the sun brought in splashes of color to the drab apartment, flooding the dull gray hues of the kitchen with illumination far too bright for someone who got less than the recommended hours of sleep. Lucas squinted in the brightness as he swiped a towel through his wet hair, knowing that the effects of an ice cold shower to clear his head and refresh himself was only temporarily effective at keeping the inevitable headache at bay. Unceremoniously, he reached over to draw the curtains, shrouding the room in relative darkness. Lucas could hear his mother chastising him. Something about how soaking up vitamin D important; but the light wasnโt helping Lucas, and it certainly wouldnโt help his roommate.
Speaking of said roommateโฆ At this point, it had become somewhat routine for him to wake Noah up in the mornings (unless Lucas joined Noah in drinking his problems to oblivion). He leaned against the doorframe and rapped his knuckles sharply against Noahโs closed door.
โNoah, wake up. We have shit to do.โHangovers had a way of making even the most mundane and normal sound reverberate like a tortured cry within someoneโs head. The knock on Noahโs door was not just a brief noise, no, it lasted. It echoed as if formed from within a canyon, growing louder and louder with each repetitive clunk of bone and flesh on wood. Then, of course, words had to form. It was only human, right? Speaking, talking,
communicating-- only people did that. Well, Noah didnโt feel like much of a person right now. His head hurt too much to even try and force itself awake, and his body was heavy with sweat and full of sick. No, he was not a person.
Today he would be a void.
Endless darkness that continued to swallow itself as those damned words fought through his mind in order to relay his damned roommateโs information. Noah groaned in response, tossing a pillow meekly at the door in an effort to silence Lucas. There was barely a thump as it connected with the floor, and Noah groaned again.
โWhat shit? Shut the fuck up, Lucas.โ He slurred.
โGod, are you still drunk?โ Lucasโ tone wasnโt as exasperated as it could be, having already become accustomed to this scenario. He thumped the door once more for good measure knowing exactly how it would affect Noah.
โItโs Saturday, we have those oh-so-productive meetings today where we watch the slow death of Abracadabra! Cโmon, get your ass out of bed and Iโll leave you alone.โโStop โm thumping.โ Noah nearly begged, reaching helplessly for the pillow he had thrown before,
โFuck. Give me a second, okay?โ His quiet voice repeated within his own skull, cold and emotionless as always. Noah held his blankets taunt over his head, counting to ten backwards and forwards until he was able to coherently see the numbers behind his eyes. Five minutes later, Noah was sitting up and forcing his eyes open, forcibly taking in the hideous gray light of morning.
Itโs another five minutes before Noah cracks open the door to glare out at his roommate blankly,
โYouโre on thin ice, Olson. Move.โ The bedroom door opened fully and he stood dwarfed by Lucas, though that was usually how things went with them. He tried to give the other man a weak shove but thought against it at the last possible moment, opting to just glare and wait for him to take a hint.
โWhen am I not?โ Lucasโ prickly personality ensured that when he ventured onto thin ice, he often tactlessly stomped around. With a nonchalant shrug, he obliged Noahโs request and moved out of his way. Stooping down to to his backpack, Lucas swiped his half-empty water bottle from the side pocket and tossed it in Noahโs general direction. It was a small peace offering, though it was callously offered and bluntly delivered.
โYou look like shit, dude.โ Lucas commented offhandedly, flipping onto the couch. He knew that he probably didnโt look any better himself, but at least a state of perpetual exhaustion was better than fighting off a bad hangover. Flinging his arm over his tired eyes and splaying his long legs off the end of the couch, Lucas settled in for a brief moment of relaxation until they had to leave.
โWhat a surprise, I was about to tell you the same thing.โ Noah hummed, catching the tossed water bottle with only the slightest hint of a fumble. He took a quick swig, washing away some of the unpleasant taste that morning brought, and as he stumbled into the bathroom and set to his usual morning ritual the only thing left reminding him of waking ended up being his headache.
About twenty minutes later, Noah drifted silently out into the living room. The towel around his waist did little to catch the water droplets falling from his soaked hair and chin, though it did hold together what little modesty he had left to offer his prickly roommate. He dragged a steady gaze over the living room, looking for Lucas among the sparse furniture until he finally settled on the lump on their couch. A spark of irritation cut through his usual cloud of dreariness, but he let it simmer for a moment as he turned back to his room to change, slamming his door as a first attempt in waking his roommate up.
His second attempt came as a monotone grumble of,
โGet up, moron.โ once he had changed into something actually presentable.
With a groan Lucas heaved himself off the couch, his limbs and torso feeling disconnected and far too heavy. After what felt like herculean effort, Lucas got to his feet and stretched until several parts of his body cracked and popped sickeningly, yet satisfyingly. Though his mind was befuddled with sleep and aching with the lack thereof, a quick glance at the ticking clock told him that time was rapidly running out. As petulant and difficult as Lucas was, he was always on time and despised being late.
Stuffing a few last minute items haphazardly into his backpack and stepping into his shoes, Lucas moved with surprising speed for someone so tired. It was all routine โ wake up after taking any catnap he could afford, slap some alertness into his face (literally, slapping himself does work), and move onto the next location, the next task, and the next obligation. Patting at his pockets for his keys and turning up empty, Lucas flipped over some of the couch cushions and dug in between them to fish them out. He should
really stop sleeping on the couch.
โLetโs go, Auguste. Our chariot awaits.โNoah nodded, far from sated by his rushed morning, though his discomfort was impossible to notice through his thick mask of indifference. He took another few moments of their now-shared time to slip on his sneakers, and soon enough the roommates were out the door.
The car ride was as silent and dreary as the small town they lived in. Only a limited number of pedestrians crossed the streets, but somehow every single one of them appeared to have a deathwish and kept scurrying in front of the car. Lucasโ irritation only mounted with each time he had to step on the brakes to prevent blood splattering over the windshield, and every stoplight that insisted on flashing red every time they approached.
Red. At least it was a splash of color to an otherwise lifeless gray town, and a dull colorless life. Was it really any wonder that their production company was failing when there was no one around to fill the theater?
Pulling into the parking lot with a flawless parking job, Lucas took a moment to sigh and press his forehead against the steering wheel. Sometimes, it took a lot of resolve for Lucas to power through these meetings. A realist to the very core, reassurances that they would somehow pull through made him want to slam his head against the wall. Optimism didnโt suit Lucas, and having to sit through empty promises and false hope was sometimes more than he could bear. If it was up to him, Lucas would tell everyone that if they didnโt all work their asses off they would be shut down by Tuesday.
That explained why Lucas wasnโt in charge, probably.
The roommates walked in the theatre together as they usually did. It seemed that every single time Lucas walked through the worn space he noticed something falling apart that he didnโt before. Today, it was the carpets peeling at the edges, curling and fraying upwards before they met the wall. The magic of a theatre production was that it could still somehow distract from the old creaky auditorium to the point where it didnโt matter anymore. If done right, even the most run-down, shabby stage could be a success.
Was
Abracadabra! able to pull that off? It was hard to tell sometimes, but Lucasโ one optimistic thought for the day was that maybe they could.
โLook at what the dog dragged in,โ Lucas muttered underneath his breath. It was meant to be a witty comment upon seeing Billyโs dog. There was no bad intention behind it, but as with everything Lucas did, it was twinged with a sarcastic edge sharp enough to cut through the curtains.
โEveryoneโs looking rather chipper today.โ Lucas said, raising his voice to actually be heard this time. Good mornings werenโt Lucasโ thing. A simple nod was enough for a greeting.
Noah, on the other hand, said nothing to the slow-forming group in the theater, and instead drifted right towards Billyโs dog. He dropped silently down onto his knees and greeted the animal with a soft grunt, scratching expertly behind his ear in their usual greeting. He passed the canineโs owner a single glance, squinting up at Billy through the glare of the house lights. His hangover was faltering ever so slightly, chased away by time, but his exhaustion was still clearly pressed onto his face.
He stood eventually and moved off towards the side, lowering his head to focus entirely on the scuffed toes of his fake-leather boots. He was so incredibly done with this meeting already despite just arriving, and after another few silent moments he began tapping his toe, counting each second with the uneven beat. Perhaps heโll tap his toe hard enough to destroy the entire theater one day, and perhaps heโll be lucky enough to get crushed by the rubble. Oh, what a lovely, depressing thought.
collaboration between @Sylph and nightmare eyes 
