sleep.

Chapter III: Jake

     Malcolm groans and falls back onto his bed, looking up at his ceiling. He laid there for a few seconds before he saw something on the ceiling. He looked closer, and closer. He couldn’t make out what it was, but the bumps on his ceiling were in the shape of a man. Not just any man. Malcolm felt as if he recognized this man. Sure, it was just the outline of a regular male body, but Malcolm swore it was someone he knew.
     Knock knock knock
     Malcolm jumped slightly, startled. He sat up and looked behind him at the door. “Yeah?” Malcolm said, hoping this wouldn’t be one of those dramatic hour long talks with his dad.
     Lucas, his dad, opened the door. “Hi.” He greeted.
     “Hi.” Malcolm responded.
     “Get out of your room. Your room is only for sleeping. I’m sick and tired of you being a lazy fuck and sleeping all day long. Get the fuck out or I’m bringing your mom into this, and you don’t want that. Trust me.”
     My day was fine, thanks for asking. Malcolm thought.
     Lucas left, leaving the door open. Malcolm knew that if he closed it, his dad would come back and yell at him more, so he just went out of his room and into the bathroom, locking the door.
     Malcolm sighed, then heard a voice from behind him.
     “You okay, Max?” The disembodied voice asked,
     “No.” Malcolm responded, holding his arms and still looking away from the voice.
     “Wanna talk about it?”
     Malcolm sighed again, turning around to see a blonde-haired boy around his age. “Not right now, Jake.”
     “Alright. Well, I’ll be in our room if you want to talk.”
     “Okay…”
     “Alright.” Jake gave Malcolm a caring smile, “I’ll see you later, bud.” Jake walked out of the bathroom.
     Malcolm is the only one who can see and hear Jake. No one else can, making Jake the only thing the outside world can’t take away from Malcolm. Jake cares about Malcolm a lot, but Malcolm often forgets that Jake isn’t real, and never was.
     Malcolm exits the bathroom, only to turn and see his dad at the bottom of the stairs, staring at him angrily.
     “What?” Malcolm asks.
     Lucas opens his mouth to say something, then stops and sighs angrily, walking away. Malcolm sighs and turns back, walking back into his room and closing the door behind him and laying down. Jake is standing next to Malcolm’s closet, looking at him with a worried expression. “You know he’s gonna come back, right?” he said,
     “Yep. And then yell at me again.” Malcolm responded,
     “Why don’t you just go downstairs so he doesn’t yell at you?”
     Malcolm sits up and looks at Jake with a face that says “are you stupid?”,
     “Because he’s just gonna yell at me and constantly bother me.”
     “How do you know that?”
     Malcolm falls back onto his bed and sighs, “he always does… it’s like he doesn’t want me to live here. He constantly yells at me for not being perfect.” He sits back up “Wait… why did you ask me if you already know why I feel what I feel? Aren’t we mentally connected?”
     Jake shrugs, “Yeah, but I think you should still get things off your chest. Especially with someone you trust.”
     “Hm… it.. does feel nice… I guess..”
     Jake raises his arms cockily, smirking. “See? I’m a miracle worker.”
     Malcolm scoffs and smiles, “Shut up,”
     Jake sits next to Malcolm on the bed, “You know, Max. It’s funny. Your dad assumes that you sleep all day, yet, you hate sleeping.”
     “I don’t hate sleeping. I have insomnia. I’ve never had one dream.”
     Jake rolls his eyes “Oh, come on! You’ve had to have at least one dream!”
     “When I was a child and my Dad cared about me and gave me sleeping pills? Yeah. That all stopped when I was 10. Ever since then, I’ve just been an obstacle to him.”
     Jake rubs Malcolm’s shoulder. He feels it and smiles softly. “I just don’t want to feel like a mistake.”
     “Max. You’re not a mistake.” Jake says, “You’re a gift to everyone but him.”
     Malcolm smiles softly, although it’s not entirely genuine. “Y’know.. I’ve always wondered.. Why do you call me Max?”
     “It’s my way of abbreviating Malcolm.” Jake did a sophistica’ed Bri’ish accent on “abbreviated”.
     “Woah. Long words. Fancy.”
     “Yes, quite quite.”
     Malcolm chuckled, then heard a notification on his phone. He sat up and picked up his phone, reading:

THUNDERSTORM WARNING