Maxy went to bed early every night, around eight PM. Usually, he fell asleep easily, and woke up feeling refreshed, but tonight, he was having some trouble getting to sleep. He didn't know why--for whatever reason, he was wide awake.
He rolled onto his right side, even though he had been rolling around for a while. He lay there for a few moments, then realized that this wasn't going to work. He sat up and took his phone from his dresser. It was almost 10:00.
He wondered if getting up for a while would help. He rolled out of bed, sticking his phone in the pocket of his sweatpants. The house was old, and the floor creaked underneath him.
He walked into the bathroom and switched on the light. The sudden illumination of the room pierced into his eyes and stung his pupils. He squinted and blinked rapidly until his sight adjusted.
The bathroom wasn't small, but it felt like it was. A white, clawfoot bathtub took up most of the space on one side, and on the other, there was a long shelf and a sink with a disproportionately wide bowl. The toilet was crammed next to the bathtub, and a small yellow throw rug had been tossed over the floor, right in front of the sink. It was a bad place for it, but Bri had put it there to cover a few mold stains that patterned the tiles.
Maxy turned the sink onto warm and splashed his face. The water ran into his eyes, and he rubbed them instinctively.
The water grew cool on his face, so he splashed it again before turning the water off and quickly drying his face. He felt calm and refreshed, but he also still felt awake.
He opened the bathroom door quietly and stepped into the hall. To his left was his parents' room, from which he could hear snoring. He took a step towards the stairs, and the floor creaked. He heard the bed shift, as if someone was rolling over. He froze for a moment, then darted quickly to the stairs and moved down them slowly.
His least favorite room in the house was at the bottom of the stairs: the living room. It seemed bigger and taller than the rest of the rooms in the house, and had an empty, haunted vibe about it. Maxy moved through that room quickly and into another small hallway, which in turn led to the TV room.
The TV room smelled of dog fur and old coffee. The furniture was slouching and comfortable, and the rug was worn. A dark, oaken table held the television, which got less than an adequate amount of channels and only responded to the remote about half the time. Dissimilar to the living room, the TV room held the feeling of fleece pajamas, sunny weekend mornings, and winter days spent inside.
Maxy sat on the plaid armchair and turned on the television. The sound was turned up to thirty, which had never seemed loud until a competitive cooking show was blaring through the speakers late on a school night.
Maxy turned the volume down to twenty. He watched the show for a while, but found it boring. It was just a lot of loud, obnoxious people who had been forced to cook outside, for reasons Maxy didn't understand.
He changed the channel a few times, but nothing good came on. He dug out his phone and messaged London.
Maxy: London
Maxy: hey man
Maxy: I dont know when you go to sleep but if youre still on I need a good show to watch
Maxy: all I got right now is a show about renovating houses
Maxy: I guess youre probably asleep
London: have you checked the time lately?
Maxy: yeah
London: it's seven fifteen, why would i be asleep? lol
YOU ARE READING
Crossing Stars
Teen Fiction[Quick warning: some of the sexual and death related content in this could bother some people. It's probably fine for most teenagers and older, but if that sort of thing bothers you a lot, you might not want to read it.] Life is hard, especially for...
