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Jolting awake in the middle of the night was not something Marvin was a stranger to. Not in midtown Manhattan, with drivers fucking laying on their horns for as long as they please. At 2am .
Somehow, Whizzer always slept through these occurrences. Marvin could crash cymbals together right next to his ear and the kid would be dead to the world. Whizzer was notoriously impossible to wake up - a habit he justified with “I’m a grown adult and I make my own decisions,” and “This is exactly why I chose a freelancing job.”
Resigning to the disregard that Manhattanites have for sleeping residents, Marvin opened his eyes. He rolled onto his back and stared at the ceiling. How long would it take him to fall back asleep this time?
A draft blew through the bedroom. Whizzer had left the window open again. Marvin propped himself up by an elbow, wondering whether or not he should get up and close it. His blankets were warm enough. But the rest of the apartment would be cold in the morning if he left it open.
He sighed to himself and got up. The window was pulled closed and the blinds were shut. Marvin turned to look at Whizzer for a minute.
Wow . Whizzer’s beauty floored him every single time. And no one really belonged to anybody, but Marvin couldn’t believe Whizzer was his. That Whizzer chose to sleep in Marvin’s bed in Marvin’s apartment and wear the pizza-patterned boxer briefs that Marvin bought for him. Sometimes on lunch breaks he would remember that Whizzer chose him, and then tear up in his stuffy, boring office. Well, okay, scratch that. Marvin had a picture of Whizzer pinned to his cork board. So his office wasn’t that boring.
“God, fuck you.” Marvin whispered jokingly to Whizzer. “Fuck you for being so effortlessly beautiful when you’re in REM cycles.”
He didn’t really feel like going back to bed just yet. It would probably be better to give those on the roads a second to take a chill pill and not wake up the entire city with their road rage. Seriously , there was barely anyone driving at 2am. Who or what the hell were they so upset with?
Marvin walked into the kitchen and sat at the dining table. It was weird, looking around the house when nobody was active in it. Playbills hung above their television, proudly displaying colours and signatures. The sectional couch looked really comfortable compared to Marvin’s wooden chair. His mom used to call their couch back home “Sleepy-Hungry,” because it would make you sleepy, and sucked you in there as if it were eating you. He wondered if his mom would consider the couch right in front of him a Sleepy-Hungry.
The refrigerator started humming. Marvin eyed the cereal on top of it. He wasn’t sure if they had milk for a bowl of cereal, but decided to take his chances. He pulled a ceramic bowl out of the cupboard, not worried about being too loud. Again, the apartment building could be smashed to bits and Whizzer would snore through it.
He poured out Fruit Loops. The sugary cereal was usually Whizzer’s preference, but it was two in the morning and Marvin had currently abandoned all morals. Lo and behold, they had half a jug of milk. Marvin made use of it, then brought his bowl and a spoon to the dining table.
“What the fuck are you doing?” Whizzer seemed to materialize in the hallway, bleary-eyed with the blanket around him like a cloak.
Marvin leaned back in his chair. “Are you kidding me? You sleep through that dickhead blaring his horn but not me making cereal?”
“Why are you making cereal at two am?”
“‘Cause I got woken up by a horn and didn’t want to go back to bed just yet. Also, you left the window open and I had to close it.”
“Ah, fuck.” Whizzer sat down across from him. “Sorry, forgot.”
“S’ok, I’m getting Fruit Loops out of it.” Marvin ate a spoonful.
“Babe, that’s my cereal.”
“I know. Want some?”
“No, I wanna go to bed.” Whizzer yawned and rubbed his eyes.
Marvin shrugged. “Then go.”
“I want you to come with me.”
“I’m eating cereal, princess.”
“Eat it faster.” Whizzer pouted.
“Damn, you’re pretty demanding for someone who woke up two seconds ago.”
“Shut up.”
“Okay, then.” Marvin continued to eat his cereal.
Whizzer folded his arms on the table and rested his head on top. His blanket-cloak slipped a little, exposing his shoulders. “Your sweater looks nice.” he whispered.
Marvin glanced down. “Thanks. It’s yours, actually.”
He smiled. “Cute. When did we turn into that couple?”
“What do you mean?”
“Lovey-dovey and sweet and stealing each other’s clothes?”
“Oh, we’ve been there for a while, Whiz.”
“Yeah, fair.” Whizzer closed his eyes and exhaled slowly.
“I love you.” Marvin muttered, spooning milk out of his bowl.
Whizzer peeked an eye open. “Hmm?”
“I love you.”
“Love you too.” He whispered.
“I can’t believe I get to see your face for the rest of my life.”
Whizzer hid a smile. “Shut up and finish your cereal.”
“Anything for you.”
Whizzer closed his eyes again while Marvin drained his bowl.
“You said you woke up from some guy’s horn?”
Marvin scoffed. “Yeah. Like, I’ve lived here my whole life and I should probably be used to waking up from cars, but what the fuck are they so mad about? It’s 2:23 in the morning and nobody is driving. Why are they honking their horn like a motherfucker?”
Whizzer laughed at his lament. “Maybe they’re honking at the lights. They take forever to turn green.”
“That’s dramatic.”
“It’s New York City, Marvin.”
“Yeah, whatever. Let’s go back to bed.”
Whizzer sat up. “You don’t have to tell me twice.”
“Three cheers for uninterrupted sleep!” Marvin shouted as he followed a laughing Whizzer down the hall.
Hopefully, the rest of the night was devoid of road rage and honking. That would be nice.