Growing up (Get Scared- continued)

Music at 4 a.m

Johnny's Pov.

I wake up on my bed wearing nothing but mix match socks and an old red shirt from the fifth grade that my brother gave me as a birthday gift. Obviously, it doesn't fit me, it's tight and half way up my entire torso. 

What the fuck?

Getting up quickly and hoping that none of my weird family members will bust into my room for no reason, I go to my closet and clothe myself properly. Boxers, grey jeans, red shirt- one that fits.

How much did I smoke last night? Jesus Christ. I said "just one hit to take the edge off," and suddenly I black out. Everything from last night seems like a blur.

"You're wasting your time with this music shit, Johnny!"

"What are the chances you'll make it anywhere in life as a musician. Close to zero."

"You better focus in school this year, or we're taking your guitars away!"

I was fighting with my dad about my career choice and school. Like always. Guess, my emotions got the best of me and I tried to cancel them out with drugs. Like always. It's Better than cutting, right? I'm really starting to reconsider running away. Again. This is getting on my nerves and it's pushing me too close to the edge. I think you've said it enough, dad. Please stop calling me a failed musician.

I go to the bathroom to splash water on my face so I can snap out of this hazy feeling. There's a bruise on my collar bone. Okay and how did THAT happen?

Giving it my all to remember anything at all from last night, I close my eyes tightly and bite my lip. 

Someone was walking towards the tree house, so I hid behind the tree and checked who it was. They had a flashlight and a hoodie. A hoodie? In the middle of summer? Who the-

Nick.

Oh shit, oh fuck.

God I hope I didn't embarrass myself in front of him.. Did I run into the forest half naked?.. Did Nick see me half naked? Why was I half naked?

Okay, I'm officially never touching a drug again.

I head back to my room and crash onto my bed. The lights are on, my eyes are closed, and my body is not going to let me sleep the day away.

What time is it? I glance at the digital clock on my night stand. 3:32 am. Why do I feel so refreshed and rested at 3 in the fucking morning but when I wake up after 10 hours of solid sleep I feel like i got hit by a truck?

Well I'm not falling back asleep. Guess I'll sneak back out to get some exercise in. Gotta get them abs.

Lloyd's pov.

Insomnia really fucking blows. This whole week I haven't been able to sleep more than 2 hours a night. 

The ceiling fan just goes round and round and round. I've restarted the cassette player at least six times by now and I haven't been able to sleep. Its three thirty am...I should be asleep like most people. Normal people.

"Ready body we're gonna sleep in 1. 2. 3." I whisper to myself then close my eyes.

Nope. Still wide awake. God fucking dammit. 

I keep tossing and turning for what feels like hours, but its only been ten minutes. I change the music to something softer, thinking maybe people are right and falling asleep to metal is difficult, but after another twenty minutes of "Tell All Your Friends" by Taking Back Sunday I'm realizing its not the music. I mean I guess Taking Back Sunday is punk, and that's still upbeat. Whatever its softer than Metallica and I'm tired as shit.