Sun rays shone through the window and blinded Scott as his eyes cracked open. He groaned and buried his face in the pillow while he tried to screw his head on straight. Aimlessly, he groped the sheets for his phone, and when he found it he began checking his Twitter feed. It was already 11:00 but Scott couldn't get out of the warm covers, exhausted from his restless night. Once again, he had a nightmare that woke him up and kept him awake. So awake Scott stayed, listening to the silence and letting his mind wander. The nightmare attacked his thoughts and he jolted upright in a panic. After taking a few deep breathes he laid back down and waited for sleep to take him.
Once again Scott's eyes cracked open, and he fought the harsh, blinding light. He stared into space, hoping the silence would ease him, but he was tired. It was as though the bags under his eyes were pulling his mood down with them. Taps against the hard wood floor broke his train of thought. These not-so-mysterious boots clapped their way through the kitchen and down the hall towards his bedroom. Scott sighed and covered his head with the covers, hoping they would camouflage his 6'4 figure. They did not.
Mitch, Scott's best friend and housemate, swung into the door frame and looked at the sight in front of him. "The queen needs breakfast! And you can't just lay in that bed all day!" He nagged. For a second, he tapped his foot, waiting, but he quickly realized how it was going to go. Quietly he crouched down, unlaced his flowery boot, and removed it from his foot. He brought his arm back as he stood up and then threw the shoe at the back of Scott's head. He waited for Scott's response.
Scott was enraged, but he tried to keep his act up for the moment. If only Mitch understood what a horrible time he was having and that the last thing he needed was to feel as though he was under attack. The longer Scott thought about it the angrier he became. "Did you just throw a shoe at me?" Scott yelled.
"Yeah. I did. I'm starving. I want to eat. I need to eat. We are leaving now. I'll meet you at the door." Mitch quickly retrieved his shoe and stomped out. He pulled out his phone and sat down at their table. As he thought, he turned the phone about in his hands, not even bothering to turn it on. His mind was on Scott. Why was Scott acting so aggressive? They usually played this game, but Mitch could see right through it. Hopefully a nice breakfast would brighten his mood.
Scott groaned as he sat up in bed, willing himself to stand. Eventually he did and walked to his dresser to grab his keys. When he got to the end of the hall, he noticed Mitch sitting in a trance; Scott jingled his keys to break him from his thoughts. Mitch looked up and stifled a laugh. "I'm pretty sure they won't serve if you're not wearing shoes or a shirt, or pants." He teased.
Scott looked down. "Dammit." He muttered and trudged back to his room. From the bottom of his closet, he grabbed the first clothes he could find and a pair of sneakers.
Their drive was silent, both boys deep in thought. Mitch scrolled through the feed on his phone, but he wasn't reading any of it. Today was odd. Mitch woke up at four in the morning to Scott yelling; it wasn't the first time. On occasion, Scott still had night terrors.
Mitch could remember the first time he learned about these night terrors. They were ten, and it was the opening night of Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. The play went swimmingly, and Mitch had been allowed to sleepover at Scott's for the first time. The rest of the night was great, but Mitch was on edge. Scott had quietly mentioned to him that his father would be home, and Mitch didn't know what that meant. Eventually, Mr. Hoying came in to the living room where the boys were doing who-knows-what. The smell of alcohol was strong, and Mitch looked to the blonde with fearful eyes. Scott was rigid, and his eyes were empty. "We were just going upstairs." He reported and with a quick "night" thrown over his shoulder, he dragged Mitch up to his room, locking the door behind them.
Scott was in shutdown mode. Mitch had never seen him like this; it was terrifying. A statue, Scott was, staring off in front of him. Not a word was spoken, and not a word had to be. The brunette was on the verge of tears, but he didn't want to break his friend from his thoughts. Carefully, he slipped his hand into Scott's. Eventually he felt Scott's grip tighten so he looked up at him; glistening blue eyes stared back at him. They sat like that for a while, and slowly things shifted back to normal. At about 9:30 the boys went to bed, and that's when all hell broke loose.
Mitch had gotten up to use the bathroom about a half an hour prior. While trying to fall asleep he heard a strangled noise escape Scott's lips. Scott's face scrunch in his sleep. It was a nightmare, Mitch assumed as he rolled onto his other side. Quietly, he rearranged his pillows and laid back down. Aside from their soft breaths, it was quiet.
Suddenly, screams pierced their silence. Mitch was up and trying to wake Scott in record time. He stopped shaking Scott, but he kept his shirt balled up in his fists. Panting, his mind raced through everything he's ever known, searching for an answer. Once again, he shook Scott, trying to call his name over the shrill screaming. Scott was dead weight, and Mitch just got more tired and more panicked as time went on. The last thing Mitch wanted to do was wake Scott's parents, but it was his only choice.
Mitch ran down the hall and stopped just in front of their door, opening it slowly. He tiptoed across the wood floor to Scott's mother's side of the bed. Gently, he shook her shoulder. She turned to face him; her eyes peaked open. "Mrs. Hoying," He whispered, "Scott's having a night terror. He won't stop screaming." Her only response was a grunt before she rolled over. He tried to wake her again but it was of no use.
Unwillingly, Mitch dragged himself back down the hall toward Scott's room. The screaming had stopped; it was just strangled noises now. Mitch got into the bed carelessly, knowing he couldn't wake Scott. His eyes were trained on the door, his back to Scott.
Most of the time it's just yelling, but a few times Scott fought him, hitting and kicking. Thankfully, Mitch never got hurt, but these incidents made him acknowledge the fact that he needed to talk to Scott about it, so he did. This talk didn't go the way he had planned. Scott was overly defensive and tried to avoid speaking. Mitch continued to pry, asking him to talk about these dreams, but Scott refused. Finally, Scott replied, "Stop trying to wake me, I don't want you to get hurt." He swiped his keys off the dresser and left.
Scott focused on the road. It kept his intrusive thoughts away, for the most part. He didn't think about his nightmares or Mitch, only driving and getting to his destination. He did this with regularity, "driving his thoughts away." Focusing on something as meticulous as the road was the only way to force his brain out of it. Working on music generally helped too, but driving was much easier. Scott pulled into the parking lot, grabbing the first spot he saw. He got out of the car quickly and walked to the building, leaving Mitch behind.
