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Just Living Chapter 3

Sometimes waking up is difficult. Frey would have days where waking up simply meant his body and mind would try it's hardest to keep him down and beneath those sheets, an overwhelming miasma of depression or anxiety keeping him from moving at all, and other times he'd be absolutely fine. Today it was a mixture of both. His mind was wandering on a particular subject, and he couldn't for the life of him bring his focus to anything else. Getting out of bed was an emotionless routine and the day began as such, routine and nothing else. Stand from the bed, grab something to eat, go to shower, get changed and ready for work. None of it really registered in his mind, it was just his body going through the motions, what Frey was really thinking about, was the fact that he had a phone number of someone new in his cell phone and he wasn't sure what to do with that. He even had her address if he wanted to visit her, if he could even summon up the courage to do such a thing. That thought brought a bit of dry humor into his morning, he couldn't even imagine texting her let alone just showing up at her home. Bumping his head into the door he woke up to reality and realized that he had already spent his entire morning thinking about something he shouldn't be so concerned about. With a sigh he stepped out and turned to lock his door, making sure he had his keys with him before stepping out. He had to focus on what was happening in the present, and not about all the, 'What if's' Of course it was easier said than done.

On occasion throughout the day he'd find himself checking his phone, tempted to just even text hello, but as time went on he kept his phone secure in his pocket and instead decided to try and focus on other things, only to find himself in that state of routine while lost in thought. Even the people around him on the busy and bustling sidewalks of the city didn't seem to bother him as much as usual, he only walked and occasionally apologized, his focus entirely on this new situation he found himself in. Not only was he not certain if he should call, or text, or just show up at her door, but he wasn't sure if she'd really want to hear from him, or want to even send him a message. Perhaps he should simply wait, wait and wait some more to see what her first move would be, maybe she'd call him and he was being a bit too hasty, after all the other night had been fairly emotionally draining for himself at least, even though it had been fantastic for both.

While lost in his thoughts he could still function, he could still speak the usual phrases he used to communicate with his bosses, with his co-workers and even a few friends that texted him here and there, but he wasn't really alive or there entirely. His words were basic and his sentences were off by just a bit, but no one could really notice, because Frey just seemed like his normal nervous self on the outside, if a bit more detached. Perhaps he was just having a bit of a bad day, no one could really tell that his mind was hyper-focused on a single topic and that he couldn't seem to tear himself away from that topic. Working on computers, idle conversation, nothing really tore his focus from what he had been concerned about from that morning, from what his mind thought of as the singular most important thing at the moment, even if he knew it was unhealthy.

Coming back home late in the afternoon after work had finished he had completely neglected to get something to eat, he had skipped his lunch break and so he was feeling it now, a slight headache at the back of his head, his stomach rumbling, reminding him that some things required his attention. With a sigh he took to cooking, setting his phone on the countertop as he washed his paws to get ready. The routine of cooking was perhaps enough to take his mind away, if only for the fact that he was always so very wary about cutting himself or making some sort of mistake. One kitchen fire had been enough for him to focus entirely on cooking during the process from then on, but even as he cut vegetables and prepared the rest of his meal he occasionally turned his head to the phone, wondering if he'd hear his ringtone, or the little bell that signaled he had a text. It wasn't healthy to be so obsessed with one thing, or many things, and yet he couldn't help but think about it. With cooking on his mind now, at least he could feel the exhaustion of spending so much thought process on one thing, his shoulders sagging as he sighed.

Of course his worry did not stop there even with acknowledgement, even with his mind swirling in various ways. Even as everything cooked upon the stove top, his sight blurred at the edges just a bit as if even his sight were trying to focus elsewhere. With a sigh he rubbed at the back of his head, turning to grab the cellphone in a fit of a mix of rage and courage. He wasn't sure whether or not it would create more problems, but he began typing out the text, ,"Hey there, just got to cooking after work, how's it going?" With his thumb over his phone to send he paused, panic hitting him very suddenly as he wondered if that was all he should say, it had been a day since they had chat, a day since they had said anything to one another, and was that how he was going to open conversation with?

Suddenly his phone let out a loud chime that had him yelping and hopping back a bit, his tail touching hot stove for just a moment, long enough for him to curse and pull away and hit his hip on the counter top. Wincing and grabbing at his tail with one hand to make sure nothing important was burned off, he took his phone in paw to see that he had received a message from the very person he had been about to text, "Hey dork! Hope you're doin' well. Jus' y'know, wanted to see how y'doing. Text me, call me, do whatever, oh and yeah it's Monday workday, bit early in the week, but maybe we can hook up sometime after our slave labor is over, or maybe this weekend, oooorr you could come over here right now to check out my phat digs."

Phat digs? He wasn't sure if he was in any state to check out her apartment at the moment, but something about the message brought a smile to his face, his thoughts clearing up a bit as he deleted his message and sent, "Hey, doing fine. Was a bit worried about sending a message. Being a dork basically, but uh, I burnt my tail cooking."

"Lol how did you manage that? More important, you okay? That shit must've burned off that cute coat o'yours." Her reply came and he shook his head. He felt silly, but not terrible, and still terribly weary. He had neglected himself the entire day and he had no clue whether or not he had made any terrible mistakes, all because he was afraid of this very conversations.

Turning to his still cooking food he began texting back and forth with his new friend, both chatting about their respective days and what had happened, Frey being a bit sheepish about being honest about the fact that he had been caught up in his thoughts about her and the phone number. She had responded with plenty of encouragement and support, much more than he had been expecting. Breaching into conversation with so early about his troubles, about how he really felt was almost therapeutic, nearly burning his food was not, but even as he sat down to crunch through semi-burnt meat and vegetables he continued to text with his new friend. He had even made plans for the middle of the week to come out to the cafe and meet her there to head together to her apartment. Maybe he'd do it, maybe he wouldn't. He wasn't really sure so he only answered with a maybe.

Getting ready for bed, he still had phone in paw, texting away, he didn't know why he'd been afraid, and now that their conversation was coming to a close and his phone set aside for tomorrow or whenever he got a call or message, he wondered if he could ever break himself of these habits. Sitting there he tried to think of ways to get rid of it, to just stop and think for a moment about not thinking so much, but then he realized that he was doing it again. At least that was some progress, or perhaps he was just too tired. Exhausted and yet somehow satisfied he collapsed back into bed and underneath the covers, eyes closing, another day done. Tomorrow would be better.