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...
» Maybe, true happiness is when we are happy with ourselves. «
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☼ Mackenzie Ziegler ☼
✧
Johnny and I finally release eachother after a few minutes of silence. I clutch onto his elbows, gulping back tears. "Should I talk first?"
"Yes. He sighs, looking down at me through miserable green eyes. "But it's taken us a long time to get here and there's so much you need to know. We need to get in the car."
"Okay." I release a shaky breath and walk behind him to the car. He opens the door, gesturing for me to get in the backseat. He clambers in after I do.
"Hello Dale." I say polietly, managing a kind smile.
"Hey, Mackenzie." He replies.
My smile disappears after a while. Johnny reaches over to do up my seatbelt for me. My heart melts. I take his hand gingerly, slotting my fingers between his. His thumb makes slow circles on the back of my palm.
"Why'd you go missing Kenzie?" He says very quietly. My eyes flick over to his Dad, in the front seat. Without a word, he turns up the music and puts the windows down. Cold air passes through the car but the noise is enough to give us privacy. Dale can't hear us as we whisper.
"I needed you." He admits, so quietly I can hardly believe he said it.
"I know, and I'm sorry." My eyes fill with tears as I whisper back to him. "I was scared, and a bit overwhelmed. I needed a break but I should have told you."
He lets out a deep breath, closing his eyes. "It's okay, I know now, I know now."
I lean my shoulder on his, shrinking away from the cold air passing through the window. "Why did you run away?" He questions again.
I smile weakly. "Today was my eighteenth birthday... no one remembered." I trail off. "I'm irrational, self-destructive. It was so stupid of me–"
"Stop it, Kenz. I'm so sorry, I feel horrible. If my parents forgot my birthday, I would have run away too." He reassures me.
We're silent for a bit until he turns towards me again. I look at him, curious. His eyes are puffy around the edges, and red, and his hair needs a decent trim. He's been running his hands through it, I can tell. Dark undereye circles make him look like he's aged many years. I feel horrible all of a sudden, because he probably hasn't slept at all without me. A small tendril of guilt unfolds in my stomach.
We keep staring, looking, taking eachother in with wide eyes.
"Happy eighteenth." He whispers, mockingly taking part of my lip with gentle fingers and twisting it upwards to form a smile. I smile for real, and he leans his forehead to touch mine.
