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You’re trying to sleep. Keyword being trying. It’s pathetic. You’re not sure how long you’ve been trying. Minute after minute, hour after hour, you can’t. Isn’t dreamland supposed to be a peaceful place? Isn’t that what popstar is for?
That doesn’t matter right now. Nor does your slumber. You get up from your bed. It’s always been soft. The mattress, the bedsheets, the blanket. The same soft texture. It’s always been this way. It’ll always be this way.
The room is dark. It’s empty. You wish your mind was empty right now. Instead it’s racing. You can’t keep track of any of it. Every time you try to grab onto a thought, it slips away, back to the abyss where it belongs. Too much. It’s too much.
There has to be a solution, right?
You can try to sleep again, but it’ll just bring you back to where you started. You can try to reach out to someone.
So you do. You look for your phone to call a certain someone up. You move your blankets around to find it. Eventually, you find it under one of your pillows. It won’t be too hard to clean back up anyway. You turn it on. No new texts, no new emails, no new notifications, nothing. Absolutely nothing. You figured as much. No one really cared about you anyway. They all have their own friends to talk to. They have better friends to help. They have their first choice. Not you.
At least you have your first choice.
“He probably won’t pick up but sending a voicemail is better than nothing. It’s the middle of the night anyway.”
Your paw hovers over the call button, hesitating. Closing your eyes, you force yourself to press call.
The ringing isn’t the loudest part. It’s the silence that follows each ring.
Buzz, silence, buzz, silence.
When you recognize the last buzz, you lose hope. Voicemail it is.
Until.
“Hello?” A groggy voice mumbles from the other side of the line, “Are you okay? What’s up?”
It’s Magolor.
“Hi.” You reply quietly, “sorry for calling you so late. I just need someone right now.” Your claws find a way to your face, scratching lightly. It feels nice. It hurts. But it’s nice.
It takes a bit for him to respond. You figure he’s still trying to wake up. So you wait, the scratching becoming slightly harder.
“Is… is everything okay? What happened?” His voice sounds more alert. He’s awake now. That’s good.
“Uhm… I-. Can you come over? It’d be better if I told you in person.”
Tell him what? That you’re sad for the 20th time this week?
You can hear him take a deep breath on the other side of the line before speaking again, “I’ll be there in 10.” His tone was both tired but still loving.
“Thank you. I love-“ The call drops.
That’s okay, he’s probably just trying to get here quickly.
In the meantime, you try and tidy up your room at least a little bit before he comes over. Only the best for him.
5 minutes go by. They feel like the longest 5 minutes of your life. You know he’ll be here any minute, just gotta listen for a knock.
Soon enough, you hear it.
Immediately, you rush downstairs to open the door for him. Your living room is a mess. Pillows are on the floor, the carpet hasn’t been cleaned in weeks, there’s trash all over the floor, but that doesn’t matter to you, you’re just happy he’s here. You open the door. He’s there. You pull him into a hug almost instantly.
“I’m sorry I made you come here so late.”
“It’s okay, don’t worry about it!” He had that same loving tone he had earlier. He pulls away from the hug but still holds your hands, “but are you okay? Your face looks… oh.”
Your smile fades, “‘oh’ what?” You feel around your face, feeling scratch after scratch. “That? It’s nothing.”
“It is something. You know you can trust me, right?” He reaches up to touch the scratches before you quickly grab his hand and move it away.
“Yeah. I know. I can tell you when we get to my room.”
You lead him up like you’ve done a million times before.
———
Once in your bedroom, you flop down onto your bed. The routine is becoming irritating by now.
“Mags, I’m sorry. I can’t do this on my own.” You muffle into your pillow, “I can’t.”
He stands above you before sitting down on the side of your bed.
“You don’t have to do this alone. You know that I’m always here for you. No matter what.”
“Yeah, I know. It’s just…” you take a deep breath, feeling tears start to form, “It feels suffocating to talk to anyone. I try so hard to get myself together. Either way, I want to cry. I want to cry in your arms. I want everything to be okay. I want me to be okay. I want so much. I wanted so much.”
Magolor gently rests his paw upon your head, rubbing it gently. He’s listening. Your heart feels a little warmer than it once was. He allows you to continue, knowing you have more to say.
“I. I don’t want to hear anything anymore. I’m tired. So tired. I’m tired of getting up in the morning, I’m tired of going to sleep, I’m tired of feeling like this. I want a way out.” You pause, feeling tears dropping from your eyes. “But you know what the best thing is about this?”
Magolor stops rubbing your head and cups your cheek lovingly.
“Is that at least you’re still here.”
Utter silence. It’s deafening.
Magolor’s expression softens, wiping a tear off your face. He gently pulls you into a hug, then he lays down in your bed, face to face with you.
Without any more words, he lies there.
“Do you want me to spend the night with you?” He asks.
You don’t know what to say but you blurt out a response anyway. “Please do.”
He places a hand on your back and pulls you in closer, “I’ll be here with you. You’re safe.”
You feel warm. It’s nice. Before you know it, your eyes begin to flutter shut. You can finally sleep.
“I love you, Mags.”
Before you can get a response, you fall asleep. In your last moments of consciousness you think you hear an “I love you too.” but then again, you’re not sure.
At least you get some sleep tonight.