04

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Yeah, sorry for how bad this sounds. I had a bit of writers block while writing this, but all is good. BTW, about the 'number,' I had to just add a stupid fake one because I didn't want it to be real, you get me? (You'll see what I'm talking about). Okay, enjoy!

04

   MOOSE can feel himself getting sick, which is one of the worst feelings in the world. His nose has been running, his throat burns when he swallows, and he's had a pounding headache since last night. It's like he was fine one day, and then the next he was sick. He's positive he didn't catch a cold from the Navy's because he was barely even around them, but maybe Eleanor didn't tell him that her family was getting over a sickness. He's not too sure, and he'd rather not think about that right now.

Rubbing at his tired eyes, Moose pulls the blue bedsheets off of his body and sits up. Squeezing his nose to try and relieve his obnoxious headache, he grabs his phone to see what time it is. A bright light shoots from it, causing him to squint his eyes and look away. He hurriedly dims the brightness and then looks back at his phone. 4:35, it reads, making him let out a quiet sigh. No point in going back to sleep, he thinks to himself as he turns his little lamp on.

He slithers off of his bed, stretching out his long body as he stands up. A few bones pop and he winces, narrowing his eyes as he looks around for the gray sweater he threw off of himself just a couple hours ago. After a few seconds of searching, he finally spots it on the floor, hiding underneath his bed. He bends down and grabs it, pulling it over his head afterwards. He let's out a quiet yawn, and glances around his bedroom, frowning.

His eyes suddenly feel heavy and he looks over at his bed, craving to go back to sleep. Realizing that no matter what he tries, he still wouldn't be able to fall asleep. Shaking the thought of tiredness out of his head, Moose approaches the bathroom in long strides. He quietly opens the door and steps in, flipping on the light switch after he enters.

Slowly walking up to the sink, he turns the knob, waiting for the cold water to come pouring out of the spout. Letting out a deep sigh, he splashes the cold water on his face. He quickly shuts the water off, and rakes his sleeve across his face.

Moose glances up into the mirror, his brown orbs staring back at himself. His frown droops even lower when he notices that his eye bags are starting to get worse and he's starting to look like he's forming frown lines, even though he's only sixteen and a half years old. His grip tightens on the counter as he moves his eyes around, taking in the once happy boy.

Gritting his teeth, he looks away, and continues standing there for a few seconds before storming out of the bathroom. He flicks the light switch off, not bothering to use the toilet once he's finished. He paces back and forth, his feet pounding against the ground, not realizing that he may be making more noise than he should be.

Squeezing his eyes shut to release tension, Moose breathes in and out through his nose, trying to calm the forming attitude. He lifts up his thumb and starts biting on the nail in a nervous habit. This is not how he normally acts. He should be smiling and thankful that he's alive, but he's not. He just wants to go to sleep.

Suddenly, his door bursts open, causing him to jump. His eyes quickly glance over to the intruder, and he let's out relieved sigh. "Hey," Max peeks his head into the room, "are you okay?" He questions, his voice rough, sounding as though he just woke up.

Moose nods his head in reply, and bites down on his bottom lip. His brother doesn't need to know that he's actually not fine, and that he's upset over being upset. "Sorry if I woke you up. I needed to use the bathroom," he mumbles, crossing his arms over his chest.

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