insomnia • jschlatt & wilbur soot

rain.

"my name is wilbur, i'm new around here,"

schlatt stood in silence in front of the british boy, his cheeks blushing in the cold air of the night. thankfully, his fluster was not visible in the dark shadows.

"i can tell. i've live here for a while, never seen you before," he replied, trying to break the tension by casually placing his hands in his pockets.

"my name is schlatt. jo- actually just call me schlatt," he said, attempting to hide that strange warm feeling in his heart behind his usual, cold facade.

"wow, mr 'call me by my last name' over here," wilbur said, waving his hand around, his voice tinted with joyful sarcasm.

wilbur began to walk away, but schlatt felt odd. he didn't want their conversation to be over just like that. he wanted more. there was a connection between them, he knew it.

"wait, wilbur," schlatt raised his voice slightly, placing his arm on wilbur's shoulder and pulling him back slightly.

then he was silent.

he wanted to continue the conversation but he hadn't really thought about what to say, which was rather stupid on his part.

the british boy nodded his head and widened his eyes, as if to say "go on".

schlatt pondered for a while, "well, uh, you seem to be my age. are you attending the local high school?"

wilbur nodded his head, and continued walking, only this time schlatt trudged beside him.

"i just transferred here, and I'm starting school tomorrow as a- what do you guys call it? a junior?"

the two boys walked through the park, soon making their way out and onto the sidewalk.

"oh, what a coincidence, I'm a junior as well," schlatt replied, brushing his hand through his hair.

as the two continued walking, they spoke about various things, the only sound in the deserted town being their calming voices and their footsteps ringing out against the cold, hard street.

the pair found that they had quite a dynamic, even without trying they were able to have a comedic, yet familiar back-and-forth conversation. 

the conversation was oddly not fueled by their similarities, rather by their contrasting personalities and interests. i guess opposites really do attract.

at some point in the night, they walked past a rather old and shabby apartment complex, which schlatt was sure had been there all his life. just as schlatt was talking about the crispy goodness of pretzel bread hot pockets, beckoning wilbur to try them, the latter interrupted his thoughts.

"this is my apartment, we should probably go to bed soon, we do have school tomorrow," he said, gesturing upwards at the brick building.

"really, you live here? i would think that you live with someone's family like exchange students usually do," schlatt mused, raising an eyebrow.

in reality, he was not only curious but concerned. the place didn't really look that suitable to house a 17-year old by himself, especially one that was away from home.

"it's not that bad on the inside. maybe i could show you someday, my pretty princess," wilbur replied, the edges of his smile curving further upwards as he saw his newfound friend blush at his statement.

"don't call me that. you know what they call me? they call me schlatt, i am not your pretty princess," he said, his voice laced with overexaggerated offence.

wilbur chuckled at the boy as he pushed open the door to the building.

"well see you tomorrow schlatt,"

"it was nice meeting you," schlatt replied, smiling for the first time he had in a while, as he watched the british boy enter the building.

schlatt walked home feeling numb once again.

but it was slightly different than before.

he actually felt sort of... satisfied.

the night hadn't started off great, but it had certainly improved his mood.

as he neared his home, recognising the street and his neighbour's houses, he felt something wet on his head.

he looked up towards the sky, and saw dark cloud looming ahead, overshadowing the bright stars. droplets of water started to fall from the clouds, and soon enough it was raining enough to drench the boy.

schlatt ran down the street, nearly slipping on the pavement a couple times, until he reached his house. 

he quickly hopped over the fence and made in onto the fire escape, diving through his window and landing on the floor with a resounding 'thud'.

by the time he lay there on the hardwood floor, his sweater was completely and utterly soaked.

but even though his window was open, letting the cold air of the night blow into his room, and his sweater was wet, freezing him to the bone, he didn't want to get up.

he couldn't find the strength to get up, and strangely enough, he felt at peace, lying in the middle of the floor.

there was some sort of serenity to it, some kind of calming, soothing feeling. 

still spread out on the wooden floor, he picked his phone out of his pocket.'

4:36

shit.

schlatt immediately stood up, struggling to pull the sweater off of his shirt, and desperately trying to shut his window.

he fell backwards into his bed, lying on top of his sheets, and gazed outside at the pouring rain.

soon enough, his insomnia faded away into the soothing sounds of the rain hitting the fire escape, and he dozed off.

he woke to the shrill sound of his alarm clock, tightly nuzzled by his sheets, his bliss interrupted.

oh right, he had school.

fuck.