Endless solo of solitude | Lookism various x reader

Unheard confession.

The mattress dips, soft underneath the impact of your shifting and turning around. It's bright, much too bright for you first thing in the morning. Your eyes droop, adjusting to the light. And your chest begins to rise up and down, as you raise a finger to trace the sun outlined through your window. Sleepless nights aren't uncommon anymore. You find you've been having trouble with falling asleep, but there's a brief silence that brings you a moment of peace. There isn't a single sound in the world, and your sore muscles relax, your blurry eyes closing—

"Psst." It must be a hallucination, you think.

You slap a hand to cover your vision, shoving your face into the pillow. It's okay. You can still sleep, even if just for a second or two. You're sure it's nothing more than a stray cat—

Knock. A sound comes from the window.

Your eyes snap open. "What the heck?" you whisper quietly, a jolt in your voice.

Cats can't knock. Can they? It would be more of a scratching sound; their paws aren't an exception to the sharpness of their nails. But this is definitely human. Your heart beats faster. Could it be someone you know? It's possible. Still, it's too early for them to show up. And why don't they just knock on your front door? Like a normal person. You turn away from the window, draping the satin pillow across both your ears.

Knock. Again. Except, it's more rushed this time.

"Ugh," you groan.

Knock. Then it stops, and you almost sigh in relief. It's probably because of how tired you are that you started hearing things. But the sigh dies down just as fast when you hear shuffling. Tap.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

A gulp catches the back of your throat. It has to be someone you know. Right? Who else would be so insistent on waking you up? Not that you were asleep to begin with. But they don't know that.

I can do this, you think. If it's some weirdo, I'll scream and wake my parents up.

With a sluggish grunt, you rub your temple, feeling an upcoming headache. You sit up and toss the blanket to the side. In less than a glance, you can recognise who the source of sound is. A tired smile rises to your lips. Of course.

"It's you?" you ask, watching him follow the movements of your mouth. His head turns to the side, his eyes blinking in somewhat confusion. Until, he suddenly gasps, and he seems to understand what you're saying.

Zack nods. "[Name], open up!"

"I don't think I should," you say teasingly. He frowns, his brows furrowing. It's a look only you get to see. One resembling a dejected puppy. And you note how it makes him feel so close, so human. You like it more than anything.

Zack doesn't give up. He keeps tapping your window, a heavy pout standing clear beneath the gleaming glow of sunlight. You consider closing the curtains and letting him sulk alone for the next hour or so. But you're better than that, and you don't think you could handle having to hear him muttering about how mean you are. It's very early though. To you, it's not a big deal, but he's not one to wake up early—without his mother coming in and pouring water on him—or at least not without some kind of reason.

You press your face close, watching him. He taps a finger against the glass, meeting where your nose is. Both your eyes turn inwards as he keeps poking. Though his skin isn't actually touching the surface of your own, you can feel the mellowness of his gentle prods anyway. He eagerly motions for you to lift the window up, and while you're sure he wouldn't have left if you chose to shut him out, you decide to straighten your back and stretch. Sleep hasn't been kind to you, but it's okay. You suppose, in the end, it works out for the best.