Greenline

13

Wednesday, May 25th. 4:17 am.

I had laid awake that night staring at my ceiling, unable to find the willpower to close my eyes and drift to sleep. Something was bothering me, but I didn't know what and I didn't care to dwell on it and place it. I preferred to stare at glow in the dark stickers that made fake constellations on my ceiling and listen to the rain as it tapped against my window.

Something in my heart hurt, like the feeling you get after seeing something awe-inspiring, when you inevitably find yourself reaching a new low to compensate for the high you just witnessed.

I didn't really comprehend what I was doing when my hand fumbled over to the nightstand and retrieved my phone. I unlocked it, planning to scroll through tumblr and numb my mind, but I paused when my texting app opened right in front of me. I went into my conversation with Isaac; last message 9:43pm.

I started typing r u awake? but I briefly questioned whether or not I should send it as my finger hovered over the button. Would I seem needy? What if I woke him up? What if he's busy?

Then I elegantly sneezed and my finger slipped. My eyes widened and I grabbed my phone off of the bed sheets, watching the message's status go from sending to sent.

I was surprised when the three dots that indicated someone was typing appeared on Isaac's side of the conversation. My phone buzzed with a notification moments later.

Yeah, why?

I chewed on my lip as I reread the text over and over, trying to ignore the part of me that insisted he was annoyed. After a few moments, I responded. Can we talk? Again I paused before sending it, eventually sighing and decided that the worst I could get was a no.

Is something wrong?

I knew the answer, but I didn't want to give it. I just need to talk to someone.

A few seconds later, my phone was buzzing with a call. I answered it and pulled it up to my ear, trying to stay quiet. "Hey."

"Hey," Isaac greeted, sounding wide awake. I was going to return the greeting, but I just sat there, listening to the hum of the call and the sound of the rain against my roof. "Ethan?" He asked tentatively. I felt numb when I hummed in response, fingers following the fraying edges of my blanket. "What is it?"

"I don't know," I mumbled absentmindedly. "I feel wrong."

"Are you okay?" The worry in his voice made me feel like he meant it in a physical sense. Realizing I had given no indications to why I was awake or texting him, I quickly insisted I was fine. "Where are you?"

"I'm at home, I'm safe." Then I sighed and rubbed a hand over my face. Again my eyes were drawn to those stupid glow in the dark stars stuck onto my ceiling.

He asked me what I was doing, I'm pretty sure it was just to get me talking. For all of the times that he was the one who deserved comforting, he dished it out like he received too much. I told him about the stars above me, the fake ones of course. The real balls of fire were hidden behind layers of clouds tonight as spring rained upon its budding flowers.

Isaac said he'd always seen those star stickers on TV, apparently it was a staple for the child characters to have them. It occurred to me that Isaac still hadn't been in my room, or even to my house. I wanted to have him over, but that would have meant a very long conversation with my parents that would reveal I was still doing what they forbade me from.

But I wanted to have Isaac over, to have him walk into the house and instantly mock the various pictures anchored to the hallway walls. I wanted him to come into my room when it wasn't messy, I wanted him to waste half of our time together by silently scouring my bedroom and memorizing everything about it that he could, like the way he did at the diner or in the theaters.