This is a short draft for a lil web-series I’m working on! Not sure what to call it but it’ll be a comic with little sections like this to combine a novel and comic medium. I love writing almost as much as I love drawing so expect more in the future whether ya like it or not! The draft here is from the perspective of a man named Cecil Lawrence, a good friend of Thatcher (first name will be shown later but not here). And they were roommates.. .. literally because they dual rented a house in college

The wait seemed interminable. Restlessly, I found myself listening to the repetition of the ticking clock that rested above me. Patiently, as time marched by, the longer I mindlessly stared at these alabaster walls seemed more and more elongated as the wait continued. Many thoughts raced through my mind as I sat against the mahogany door. The issue of what was taking him so long was one of the bigger ones, I didn't know what was taking up this much time behind that door. I knew I shouldn't interrupt his work, yet with each passing second, the brass door handle seemed to beckon me further. Before a brash decision like such, I thought it best to listen for anything that seemed too important to mess with. Intently, I put my ear to the door, listening. Nothing. I waited more, just as I had done for hours on hours beforehand. Not even a pin drop. Maybe he had worked himself so much he had passed out on his desk? At this point I only needed the tiniest reason to barge in, perhaps I was convincing myself of something that had not really happened but I should make sure anyway. Despite my shivering hands, I slowly gripped the handle, the door creaked open, slowly. I had opened it only about an inch to inspect the scene, he wasn't passed out. And now, I could see him writing aimlessly, head low and back hunched in his chair. He seemed unaware of my presence, lost in his work yet again. I could not count how many times I had seen him like this, it would be far too much to count. The faint sounds of his pen gliding on the paper was constant. This scene, was common to see, enough that it was etched in my mind. I was foolish to entertain the far possibility of something else occurring. What a dreamer I was. I crept open the mahogany door even further open, to no response. I knew how exceptional his focus was, it always would swallow him whole but still it stung like a wasp to not even receive a small pause from the man. Cautiously, I stepped forward to him and lightly placed my hand on his shoulder. I was met with a sudden jolt from him, almost as if he had been struck by lightning. He turned around in his chair, eyes wider than a full moon and lips already parted for whatever words he was to say. "Dear god! Cecil, what are you doing here?" he gasped sharply. I could feel the remorse already seeping onto my face seeing him as startled as he was. To me, he was a deer in headlights. "I was only checking up on you, Thatch, but also to remind you to rest" I assured, looking down to the floor. His stern face softened as he loosened his grip on the arms of his chair. "You need not remind me of such things, I know my limits" he grumbled, a slight frown accompanying his worn expression. He might've claimed he knew his limitations, yet his disheveled hair, his calloused tips and the numerous little paper cuts on his hands told me a different story. I could see the bloodshot veins in his midnight coloured eyes. He was so plainly debilitated, it was painful to witness. "I prepared dinner for you hours ago, I would have preferred you at least stop to eat a little" I refuted with a step forward. "I will do as I see fit and you will learn to quit burying your nose in my business" his tone commanding as his face was red and hot. I knew he was stubborn, I had known it for years. Every night he would refuse to leave his little office, every night I would end up more upset than I was waiting for hours upon hours on end. Every night yet I would never learn to do any different and neither would he. And then he gave me a glare that let me see his annoyance at me clearer than glass. I countered his glare with my own, a battle of persistence opening between us. Yet like how it ended every night beforehand, his gaze intimidated me, breaking down the small bit of strength I had left to fight him. I let out a deep sigh, looking away in defeat as I stepped back from his chair. "Again, for the billionth time, Cecil Lawrence, I need you to stop ruining my focus, my progess, do this again and I will not hesitate to lock this door like Fort Knox" he threatened as he watched me slowly retreat back to the door. I looked back quickly, selfishly, to maybe guilt trip him into regretting his decision, yet alas he was already back to work again. Not even a second glance back.