Waiting for the Notification
#9 of Studies, Vignettes, & Scraps
I hope this is as uncomfortable to read as it was to write. >:]
He wasn't sure what to do. He couldn't just do nothing. To be sure, he should do nothing, but it was beyond his capability to do.
He anxiously tapped his fingers in rhythmic succession against his desk, again and again.
He grabbed his mouse and flipped back to the chat window, knowing there would be nothing there but hoping he was wrong. He wasn't. He tabbed around to get the conversation off his screen and off his mind, as though that would help.
A deep breath. One more.
It had been a while since he meditated. He really needed to do that again. Not now; it wouldn't do any good now. But it would be handy to help avoid these moments in the first place. Maybe stop the chain of events that led to him waiting, staring, hoping that he didn't just push a dear friend too far.
There was hope once, he thought. There could be hope again. But that would probably only happen if he could learn to control himself. Stop obsessing. Get out and do something!
He had something to do already, of course. But it was work, and he tired of work. Even if he didn't it was hard to focus with his heart so twisted and hunched over. He knew he needed to attend to his job, but... he checked again. Still nothing.
Ah, what he would do for a fast-forward button. Just skip this evening and this week and this month and advance time. The computer would probably do a more serviceable job in simulation than he could in life anyway. Sure, he wouldn't get any of the big achievements or enjoy any of the sweet fruits of a moment well spent, but he'd be steady, calm, able to let time work its wonders on the hearts of people that tired of him. One person in particular.
He checked again. Still nothing.
Fuck it, let's go for a walk.
No, let's not go for a walk. We don't have time. We have work to do.
Work that we're not doing anyway. He thought about checking again, but resisted. A small victory.
He thought about checking again, but resisted. Worrisome.
He raised an index finger sternly to an invisible phantom in front of him as if to say, no, you will not make us think of this again. It worked for a moment.
Another moment.
Maybe there's a game or something we could play? Something to take the edge off?
Something to waste more time, you mean?
Shut up.
This isn't getting us anywhere.
Nothing is getting us anywhere. This situation just--
It sucks, I know. I know, I know. But we can't...
The thought trailed off, and in its place there was nothing. The vacuum persisted for a time before it filled again with self-pitying self-loathing. He just didn't know what to do. He was a grown-ass man sitting at his computer and feeling utterly lost because of a probably-inconsequential social faux pas. Possibly inconsequential, he corrected himself. Maybe more than a faux pas. His mental state was wobbly going into the evening and he was missing quite a bit before he'd mouthed off to his friend. For all he knew, he'd sent them into an ignore-spiral. Or something. He didn't know.
Fuck it. He was going to send a message. A plea.
"Hey. I don't know if anything's happening, but my head is in a negative, paranoid, swirly place right now. I don't need to talk, but if you could drop me a word it'd help me re-center for the night."
He spent several minutes crafting those sentences, trying to be careful to show his need without seeming too needy. They owed him this courtesy--they'd been through more than enough together--but it wasn't guaranteed thanks to the inconsistent nature of internet chat and the potential for spitefulness, and he knew it would feel like a boon to have it.
He stroked his mustache and waited. Then he got up to grab a drink.
Just then, his phone buzzed with a notification. He immediately sat down and checked to see--was it a word?
"A word!"
His heart instantly eased. "You're the best. Thanks (:"
It fixed nothing and it fixed everything. He could let the conversation be, now. He could let time pass without freaking out. He didn't need to let the simulation take over.
But he still had his fucking work. He got up to grab a drink.