Jono didn't want to get up. Oh, he had spent most of Saturday thinking about it, about maybe going to feed the cats or perhaps try to play guitar or something. To do something productive with himself. Except with the way the island's collective psyche was beating down on his head now, even the thought of leaving the room seemed daunting.
He had accomplished sitting up. Sitting up was one hell of a thing to accomplish, when the world felt like it was drifting away and crushing down on top of you all at once, wasn't it? And hell, he was even looking at the door, which seemed miles from the bed, halfheartedly willing it to come closer.
But no. That didn't seem to be working.
What was much closer still was hanging from a chain around his neck, and after a few minutes of just willing himself to lift his hand, Jono's fingers closed around the little vial. Everything out here in the real world was too heavy right now. He'd face it in a minute. But first... first he just needed to take another breath. He just needed to feel alive again, even if it was only for a few moments.
And if it was all in his head, what did it matter? When you were a telepath, that was probably all that mattered anyway, wasn't it?
[OOC: Expecting one!]
- Hannibal's House, Sunday Afternoon