Chapter Text
Dizziness had set in as soon as Balloon opened his eyes. He was greeted with pain, like he was every morning. His stomach growled, and twisted, nauseous from all the acid pooling there with no food to digest. Fuck, he really needed some water. Balloon sat up, but his head spun so much that it hurt, and black spots filled his vision, so he collapsed back down on his bed. He sighed, blindly reaching for his glass of water. Even though it was lukewarm from being left out all night, it felt ice-cold as it pooled in his painfully empty stomach. Once he had some water weighing him down, he tried to sit up again. It was slightly more bearable this time, but bile rose in his throat, and the air didn’t sit in his lungs right. It never did. Balloon was tired, he was so, so tired. It was deep in his bones, his limbs felt heavy, walking took so much energy that he never had. He didn’t want to get up, he didn’t want to do anything, but he had to. You couldn’t just do nothing, no matter how tired you were. He had to push through, he always did.
So Balloon heaved himself out of bed, he had to clutch the headboard to prevent himself from falling over. As much as he liked to convince himself it was, water was never enough sustenance for the day. It was never enough. He dragged his feet as he walked to the bathroom, he kept the lights off and the blinds closed as he took off his pajamas. He hated looking at himself, it made him feel ill. Showering was too tiring, Balloon could barely stand for enough time to wash himself properly, and the less time he spent naked, and exposed, the better. He usually sat down on the shower floor, feeling the water trickle down his back. It was never enough to make him feel clean, but it was better than nearly passing out, or crying from having to feel his skin under his hands. The hot water burnt, and Balloon decided he was done for now. He didn’t really want to be late for the first day back.
Balloon kept the lights off in his room, as well. Looking at himself always felt sickening, and it was hard to avoid seeing his arms. It was hard to avoid the scars and wounds he had carved into himself, no matter how hard he tried. It was stupid, really, feeling so genuinely ill over something completely self-inflicted. He wasn’t going to try to understand it, nothing about his thoughts ever made sense. His body being covered again felt like a relief, he felt like he could finally breathe. Balloon packed his bag, took his multi-vitamin (which always felt pointless, but he did it anyway), put his headphones on, and began to walk.
Early September was always too warm for Balloon’s liking, but, anything above winter temperature felt too warm when every inch of your body was covered. He overheated quickly, sometimes, Balloon wondered how dizzy it was possible for a person to get. Walking in the summer made him think he had reached the limit. The sweat forming didn’t really help with the issue of never feeling clean enough, he should shower properly tomorrow, but he knew that he probably wouldn’t. His walk took over thirty minutes, he was completely exhausted by the end of it. Balloon was very grateful to whoever created his timetable, because his form room for registration was on the first floor of the school building. Thank god.
Balloon sat down at his table, thankful to be off his feet for a few minutes. He chugged half of his water bottle in an effort to keep his head from spinning as much, to give his stomach something else to fill it, so it would stop fucking complaining about being so empty. It didn’t help much, Balloon ended up resting his head on the desk, half listening to the world going on around him. He had to fight in order to not fall asleep. He vaguely registered the sound of someone sitting in the chair next to him, but he didn’t bother to lift his head to see who it was. He didn’t care. They wouldn’t talk to him, and he wouldn’t talk to them. Balloon had such little interest in making friends, they always felt like… a risk of some kind. Balloon bit back a groan as the bell rang through the classroom, he really didn’t want to stand up, he felt a wave of nausea as he did so. He really should eat something today. Instead, he filled his water bottle back up at the fountain on the way to his first class.
English was always on the top floor, it was just unfortunate that it was the first class Balloon had, when he was so fucking tired. He ended up dipping into the elevator, trying to climb the stairs was a scary thought. Just walking was enough to make him feel faint, he couldn’t imagine what stairs would do, and he didn’t particularly want to pass out. Balloon took his usual seat at the back of the classroom, no one else sat at his table. Usually. But today, someone did. Balloon somewhat recognised her, she always wore cardigans, and Dr. Martin shoes. Her hair was always in two braids, she spent most of her time with Nickel and Baseball. That was probably why Balloon didn’t pay much attention to her, Suitcase was always with people that didn’t really like him. She hadn’t been in many of his classes before, they must have shuffled the sets around.
Suitcase gave Balloon a small smile, and a wave as she sat down next to him. He didn’t really know how to respond, so he did nothing. As much as Balloon liked English, classes had really been dragging on lately, he noticed that last year. Anything he was passionate about started to feel like a chore, he wrote less, and less every day. It was sad, really. Balloon had always enjoyed writing before. Still, he listened to Mr. Mephone talk at the class for half a period, he made a stab at the question that was set for them, even if he had only skimmed the reading material. Shakespeare could get a little boring at times. He finished the question with twenty minutes to spare. Suitcase was struggling, all of this analysis and writing had never really clicked for her. She looked at the board, then her paper, then back at the board again, as if that would make her any less confused, it didn’t. She looked over at Balloon, he seemed like he had finished the work. She tapped the table, next to his hand, to get his attention.
“Hey, do you know what we’re doing? I don’t get it.”
Balloon blinked, a little surprised that Suitcase was actually talking to him, “we just have to analyse the passage.”
Suitcase nodded, but Balloon didn’t really help all that much. She made an attempt, but she didn’t think it went all that well.
The rest of the day felt like such a drag, it felt like it lasted weeks. Balloon had no interest at all in the rest of his classes for the day, he ended up sleeping through most of them. He spent his lunch break hiding in the toilets, trying desperately to escape the smell, and sight of food. He was always weak when it came to watching others eat. He downed stupid amounts of water to try to suppress his cravings for food, but it never really worked.
The final bell of the day almost felt like relief, but he was dreading having to walk home. He considered calling his mother, and asking her to pick him up, but if he walked, he could burn enough calories to eat something tomorrow. So he opted to walk, even if it made him feel like dying. He walked far slower than he would have liked to, thirty minutes ended up being forty, but he was trying not to pass out on the pavement. He blasted loud, upbeat music into his ears, something, anything to keep him awake.
Balloon went upstairs as soon as he got home. His legs felt like they weighed as much as concrete as he dragged them up the stairs. At the same time, he felt so weak, like jelly, it was horrible. He really needed to eat tomorrow, he couldn’t keep running on empty like this for much longer. He collapsed onto his bed as soon as he stumbled into his bedroom, not even bothering to get changed. Balloon closed his eyes to try to calm his spinning head. It didn’t work.