tired yet? ||cashby||

Chapter 3

After being in my room for far longer than humanly healthy, I wandered upstairs. All of my brothers friends were asleep in the backyard, because my parents said they could use the tent that we sometimes used to go camping with. I loved camping, and it made me kinda sad that Michael was doing it without me. Then again, I didn't really want to do anything with him anyways. At about 1:30 AM, I was sitting in the kitchen, just staring out the window into the blackness.

Something about the night neither scared me, nor comforted me. It was like a huge blanket, covering everything in its solitude. It demanded attention, and allowed nothing else to be seen in its presence. This summer, I could feel it, would be another series of nights where I wouldn't be able to fall asleep. That thought reminded me of Austin, and how I wished he was here with me.
He was probably passed out back there with all his other friends. I sighed, and felt lonely. There was a desolate hopeless feeling about the way my thoughts sounded when I was by myself: they almost echoed, like my mind was trying to trick itself into thinking that someone spoke back. I hated it, and wished that I had sleeping pills so that I could just dream at night like a normal human being. Going on a walk could've been fun, but now that I was missing Austin's company, it didn't sound half as appealing.

The glass door (which sat on the outskirts of our kitchen and led outside to our backyard) slid open very slowly, and, for some reason, it just made my chest panic. Something about doors being opened by unknown persons at night was just irrationally terrifying. That light overhead the sink was the only one on, and provided sight distance of about 10 feet. Everything farther was eaten away by the darkness slowly until it just blurred into nothing. That lightbulb was a solace, a safe base. It almost felt like, if I could get to it in time, nothing would hurt me.

"Alan," Austin's voice whispered. Relief flooded through me.

"Austin?" I whispered back. An awkward silence ensued, in which he hovered by the door and I could barely make out his tall frame. After a moment, we both cracked up a little. He closed the door and walked into the kitchen, standing on the other side of the island by the sink, right beneath that light.

"It's mad windy out there," he murmured, looking out the window behind him into the darkness for a moment, then turning back to me. With his back to the light, I couldn't make out barely anything on his perfectly structured face except for a smile.

"You could fly a kite," I blurted out randomly. Oh god, why? Austin cocked his head at me.

"Why?" he asked, his hushed voice sounding amused.

"Even the moon gets lonely sometimes. A kite would keep him company," I mumbled. Well, now that I've made a complete idiot of myself...

"Is the moon not a woman? I was under the impression that it was a woman." He laughed quietly, coming closer and leaning against the table opposite of me. I felt my heart beat faster, and bit down on my bottom lip.

"Maybe both."

"Does the moon have Dissociative Identity Disorder?" He chuckled.

"Constantly revolving around another being can be traumatic," I replied, watching his eyes crinkle with a smile.

"Hey," he began, looking too closely at me for my own good, "are you up to go somewhere?" Go somewhere? My lips pulled up into an intrigued smile at the idea.

"Are we talking about an adventure here?" He laughed a natural, happy laugh.

"Yeah, an adventure. I mean, unless that's totally weird. I just figured, since neither of us have any sort of normal sleeping pattern..." He trailed off, and I giggled a bit, because it was achingly true.