8 + bad dream

1.4K 82 26
                                    

I woke up with a jolt, panting and shaking. I glanced out the window, met only with the whether of a gloomy Scranton afternoon. I try and sleep during the day, because once it's night time I'm wide awake. I usually don't sleep at all, but I mean.. I wont say no to a nap..

Grabbing my stuffie and wrapping the duvet around me like a cape, I set out on a mission to find Chris and try and talk him into cuddling me, because I'm sure not going back to sleep after that dumb dream I had. It was just about Andy being a meanie, so you'd think I'd be used to it, but bad dreams are bad dreams no matter which way you look at them.

I sunk to the floor, army crawling to the staircase and peeking through the posts of the railing. Chris was on the couch with his laptop set in his lap, video chatting with a blue eyed boy with fluffy looking black hair. I could hear the conversation pretty easily, but it sounded boring because it was pertaining to wherever they worked. Work is boring.

I shuffled to the stairs, sitting with my feet down on the first steps. I wrapped the duvet tighter around myself, hugging my stuffie tight and scooting down the stairs one by one, trying to be as sneaky as possible.

Somehow, Chris didn't notice me in spite of the occasional creak of one of the carpeted stairs. So, I just waged on. Once I got to the bottom, I laid down on the floor under the safety of my duvet for awhile, my cheek pressed against the dark wood of the floor. I don't know why, but there's something about laying on the floor under a blanket that I just can't resist. I mean, floors aren't the most comfortable thing in the world, but I still like crawling around on them and sliding over them in my socks sometimes.

After a few minutes passed, I went back to crawling sneakily over to Chris, huddled up against the side of the couch. I hadn't thought about it until right then, but I really didn't know what to do next. I didn't wanna scare him too bad- what if his friend thought there was like, a serial killer in the house, or something? I don't want the cops to show up and yell at me or anything.. Cops scare me. Even nice cops scare me.. they're just really intimidating..

When I was sixteen, I was trying to learn how to drive- even though I don't drive now. I had my learner's permit and all that stuff, but I got pulled over for something and I didn't have my mom or dad with me and the police woman was being really nice and understanding 'n stuff, but I was still really scared..

I crossed my arms in front of me, resting my chin against them and closing my eyes. I'm still kinda sleepy, but I probably just need more blood..

I fell asleep like that, waking up when I heard Chris set his laptop on the coffee table. "Hold on a second, Ricky. M'gonna grab a quick cup of coffee," He said as he stood up, almost tripping over my arm, which I had been stretching forward at the time. "Ryan? I thought you were sleeping," He said gently, scooping me up off of the floor, duvet and all.

"Ooooh," I heard another voice- Ricky,- giggle. "Who's Ryan?" He asked.

Chris glanced at the computer screen. "This is Ryan," He said as he held me. I waved at the screen shyly, and Ricky waved back. "While you're busy, I think I'm gonna go check on Dexter and make sure he isn't vandalizing the fuck out of anything." Ricky said, and Chris snickered. "Right," He said, and I watched Ricky disappear from view of the webcam.

"When did you get down here?" Chris asked, carrying me to the kitchen and sitting me down on the counter while he poured himself a cup of coffee. I tugged on the strings of my hoodie, chewing lightly on one of them. "Little while ago.. I had a bad dream.." I told him, and he frowned a little. "Do you want to talk about it?" He asked, and I shook my head.

"Is there anything I can do to make you feel better?" He asked, raising the mug to his lips as he took a sip of his coffee. I let the hoodie string fall from my mouth as I spoke up again. "Cuddles an' some blood would be nice.."


little monster | chris\ryan [c]Where stories live. Discover now