Gogs woke up to his alarm, feeling like there was a massive weight over his whole body. His eyelids wanted to stay shut. The only thing keeping them from closing was his alarm, blaring loudly to his right. He tried reaching over, but couldn't find the strength to move his arm. Or anything, for that matter.

Another day in the life of Gogs, he thought to himself. He desperately wanted to get up to turn off his alarm, but he also desperately wanted to fall back asleep. It was a daily struggle for him. Eventually, after letting the alarm run for ten minutes, he finally convinced himself to get out of bed. He turned his alarm off and shuffled over to his bathroom.

And fell asleep in the shower.

Fifteen minutes passed before a second alarm, this one stationed on his sink, also activated. His head bobbed, recognizing that there was an alarm, but it didn't relay that information to his brain until a few seconds later. He shot up, washed his hair, and turned off the second alarm. His reflection caught his eye. The wet mop on his head was nearly untamable, but if Sail liked it when his hair was neat, then that's how it was gonna be.

He combed his hair as straight as possible without an industrial-grade hairbrush. There were plenty of curls to get through. Still, he made progress, and it ended up being at least a little presentable. It helped that he'd just showered, too.

And then a wave of exhaustion hit him again.

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Why can't I just be happy? He had every reason to be happy. He was incredibly smart, had great friends, and now even had himself a girlfriend. And, on top of all that, the pills he was taking were supposed to fix it. Lithium pills were all the rage, according to his psychiatrist.

But they never worked. Out of every brand and every scientific name they threw at him, none of them ever worked. He convinced himself to keep taking them, just in case they finally would one day.

And Sail. For once, he had something that should make him happy: a relationship. Yes, of course he felt for her. Pretty strongly, considering they'd hardly just met. But he'd hoped she would make him happy. Not that she doesn't, but...

I can't even explain it to myself. How on Earth would I explain it to her?

He couldn't hide it forever. He was pretty sure Sprocket was catching on, anyway. Sprocket seemed to be great at reading other people somehow. The good news, Gogs figured, was that Sprocket wouldn't tell others. He was just a bona fide good guy.

Cog wouldn't find out unless told. She might not even have to know. Sail, however, would have to know eventually. He would just have to figure out when the right time to tell her was. Not many people like the idea of spending the rest of their life with someone who isn't even motivated enough to get out of bed. That, above everything else, would hurt the most.

He shook the idea out of his head and grabbed the pills from his nightstand. He took two and put the bottle back. Then he grabbed two purple sweatbands for his wrists and put them on. To him, it was a purple kind of day. Of the four colors he had to choose from, red, purple, blue, and green, he'd never touched the green.

The rest of his routine went as normal. He put on his jacket, which was just a little too big, brushed his teeth, and left for the study hall. It would be another fifteen to twenty minutes before Sprocket would arrive, and if Cog and Sail made it on time, forty-five minutes until he saw them, too.