Johnny Orlando. Seventeen, and by day your typical kid; he gets good grades, plays almost all sports and loves video games. but by night?
Well that's the problem.
He has insomnia.
No treatment works for him, and they've tried it all- pills, remedi...
» Sometimes the heart sees what is invisible to the eye. «
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
✧ Johnny Orlando ✧
☼
When I hear my name being called out from the kitchen, I chuck my phone on my bed and head downstairs lightly. My barefeet are numb as they graze the hardwood floor in our hallways. Today, it's been pretty chilly, and the snow's been falling steadily around our house for the past two hours now. I'm more than greatful for the blankets that we have stowed away for occasions like this, and the warm air our heaters provide. Couple that with numerous hot chocolates and a day of bingewatching netflix, I've had a pretty good day. A show about insomnia provided reassurance to me when I remembered that Mackenzie is coming tonight and that I won't lie awake for hours with thoughts spiralling like beads in a kaledioscope.
"How much do you want?" My Mum asks, referring to dinner, as she precariously balances two bowls on her arm.
"I'll have the soup. No chicken. I'm vegetarian now, remember?"
"That's right." She smiles back, eyes twinkling.
She hands the plate back to me, and I thank her before moving to get a spoon and some bread. After sitting down at the table I dig in, complimenting Mum's cooking with a mumble. Dad makes a sound of appreciation, and I smile and shake my head at him as he dribbles soup down his chin.
Mum thwaks him on the arm. "Dale, that's not good manners." She says, supressing a grin and instead reprimanding him.
I tip my head back and laugh. He hits her back, jokingly, and they smile at each other. Now, I roll my eyes. Stupid. They're so in love; it's gross.
We finish the meal in silence, and I thank my parents when I'm finished. After putting my bowl in the dishwasher, I head upstairs once again. I'm in the middle of throwing socks onto my cold feet when my phone starts to vibrate and spew out my ringtone. I head over to it, a little clumsily, and end up banging my little toe on the corner of my nightstand. Howling in pain, I swipe my phone off my dresser and shut my eyes tight, trying to keep the tears away.
"Hi?" I say as an accidental question. "I mean, hi. Who's this?"
"Hey." A small voice says from the other end of the phone. "It's Kenzie, on my home phone." After her sentence, she sniffs.
"Oh." I breathe out, confused as to why she's calling me. "Is everything alright?"
She sniffs again. "Not really. Far out. I swore I wouldn't do this." She then sighs softly, voice thick.
"Do what?" I ask, getting a little frantic. Worry blossoms in my chest.
"I– can you come here, to mine, tonight? Instead of me going to yours?"
