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Maybe he should ask for help, Akk thinks as he finds himself staring at the half-empty bottle of pills on his nightstand.
He got them changed recently and he's not yet sure if this new kind is making him feel any better or infinitely worse.
He doesn't feel like himself - hasn't felt like himself in a long while, long enough he forgot who he was initially, once upon a time, before all this murkiness and all this hurting inside him. There is no sense of self in him anymore. He doesn’t feel like a human. He's half of something, the rotten half a person, the warm side of the pillow, the soggy corner of a piece of cake, the hardened slice of bread left on the counter.
Akk can't remember if he ate today. He can't remember if he took his pills either. He does remember though the stain on the right side of his bathroom mirror where he stared at for a long time this morning, he remembers the bus seat warmed-up by the sun, he remembers the shades of green of all the trees he's watched today during the ride to university.
He can't remember if he truly slept last night. If his dreams were actually dreams or if he lay on his dorm bed, in the liminal state of unconsciousness and awareness until all the shapes in his mind blended into nothingness.
Akk opens his mouth to swallow the pill that unknowingly to him ended up in his dry palm. He takes a sip of stale water, the foggy glass on his bedside table making a silent sound when he rests it back down. His lips feel uncomfortably dry too, like his hands, like his throat, like his tired eyes. He stares unseeingly at the sunbeam sneaking in through his blinds and his eyebrow twitches as if half remembering a time when he used to love the sun. The sound of waves and the smell of his mother's food haunts him when he closes his eyes. It's a phantom that he welcomes because it is the only one that welcomes him back.
When his eyes reopen, the room is dark, somehow he ended up flat on the mattress. He thinks he should get up and make dinner.
He can’t remember what he ate today. Did he eat at all?
The sun felt warm on the bus ride home. Is he home?
The mattress is cold. It's night time. He remembers tomorrow is Friday.
He would be excited for it if he could feel anything at all in this moment.
He would be terrified if he could feel anything at all.
Friday means he can rot in bed for another day. He can't tell if he likes it or not. An errand thought elbows its way around all the other muddy ones and it looks strangely like two beady eyes and a mischievous smirk. It has a name. Or two.
He has a project he needs to start tomorrow. Ayan told him they should meet at the library because he would definitely not be able to concentrate at either of their dorms. Something about Akk's smile when he looks at him and Akk's hands when they write down notes.
Akk can't remember his words. He remembers his voice though. He falls asleep feeling just a little bit closer to the sun.
Soon, Akk will have his hands buried in warm sand and the waves will lap at his feet and tonight he will dream about it and maybe tomorrow he will live it too.
Outside, the full moon glows like Ayan's eyes and that's probably the shape of a different phantom being birthed out of shadows and the street lamps and Akk's self-deprecating sighs.
Maybe this one will love him.
Maybe this one will love him forever.