Elijah stared at the clock. Only 5 a.m. It felt like an eternity had passed since he'd woken up, but the minutes had barely crawled by.
He sighed, knowing there was no way he'd fall back asleep now. Deciding to leave his bed behind, he shuffled into the living room, wrapping his blanket around him like a cocoon.
Dropping onto the couch, he stared blankly at the dark television.
The couch wasn't exactly comfortable, but it was better than tossing and turning in bed. He plopped down, wrapping himself tighter in the blanket until he resembled a human burrito.
"Maybe I'll just sit here and think about absolutely nothing," he muttered.
His thoughts swirled, and for a while, he just sat there, wrapped up like a burrito, lost in his own head.
His eyes drifted to the window, where the faintest hint of dawn was beginning to creep in.
The silence of the apartment was both soothing and unnerving. He tried not to think too much about anything. Thinking led to remembering, and remembering led to—
'Nope, nope. Not going there,' he told himself firmly, shaking his head.
An hour later, the sound of a door creaking open broke the silence.
Kieran emerged from his room, rubbing his eyes and yawning like a lion just waking up from a nap. His hair stuck up at odd angles, making him look like he'd just wrestled his pillow and lost.
He blinked groggily and stumbled toward the kitchen, but then his eyes caught something on the couch.
A figure wrapped entirely in a blanket, sitting motionless.
"WHAT THE—!" Kieran's voice broke into a shout, and he jumped back, clutching his chest.
Elijah blinked at him from the couch, his face half-hidden by the blanket.
"Relax," Elijah said flatly. "It's just me."
"JUST YOU?!" Kieran shouted, his voice a mix of panic and exasperation. "Dude, you look like something that crawled out of a horror movie! Sitting there all wrapped up like that—I thought you were a demon or something!"
Elijah tilted his head, unimpressed. "Yeah, because clearly, demons wrap themselves in fluffy blankets. And I live here."
Kieran pointed at him accusingly. "Don't mock me! You're the one sitting there like some haunted couch gremlin at six in the morning!"
Elijah smirked under his blanket. "Haunted couch gremlin, huh? Sounds about right."
Kieran rolled his eyes, still clutching his chest. "Seriously, man. You almost gave me a heart attack. I was about to start swinging—good thing I didn't have a frying pan.
Elijah turned his head slowly, his blanket still wrapped around him like a makeshift cloak. His face was blank, and his eyes had the hollow look of someone who hadn't slept.
"Yeah, I'm sure you're a real threat when you're half-asleep," Elijah deadpanned.
Kieran huffed, flopping down on the couch next to him. "What are you even doing up this early? Did you lose a bet or something?"
"Couldn't sleep," Elijah admitted, shrugging.
Kieran gave him a sidelong glance. "And your first thought was, 'Let me sit here in the dark and scare the crap out of Kieran'? You're twisted, man."
"Not my fault you scare so easily," Elijah said, his voice teasing.
"Yeah, yeah, laugh it up, haunted blanket boy," Kieran muttered, crossing his arms.
They sat in silence for a moment before Kieran yawned loudly.
Elijah raised an eyebrow. "You're not going back to bed?"
Kieran shook his head. "Nah, you've already ruined my morning. Might as well stay up."
Elijah chuckled softly. "Glad I could be of service."
"Next time, at least give me a heads-up before you turn into a cryptid, okay?" Kieran said, leaning back against the couch.
"No promises," Elijah replied, a small smile tugging at his lips.
Kieran rolled his eyes, finally recovering from the fright.
"Ugh." Kieran groaned, rubbing his temples. "You're impossible. No wonder Visconti keeps calling you a drama magnet."
Elijah raised an eyebrow. "Coming from the guy who almost burned the dorm down last week because he 'forgot' about the instant ramen on the stove."
"Okay, first of all, it was two weeks ago," Kieran shot back, pointing an accusatory finger. "Second, that's beside the point! The point is, you look like a depressed burrito, and it's making me uncomfortable."
Elijah snorted softly at that, shaking his head. "You're such a poet, Kieran."
"I am a poet," Kieran said with mock seriousness. "And my first poem of the day is called, 'Why Is My Roommate a Blanket Goblin Before Sunrise?' It's a tragedy."
Elijah leaned back, letting his head rest against the couch. "You should add a verse about how annoying you are before breakfast."
Kieran grinned, finally relaxing as the tension in the room lifted. "Aw, you do care. Want me to make you some coffee?"
"Sure," Elijah muttered. "As long as you don't poison it with whatever you think counts as 'artistic flair.'"
Kieran stood up, throwing a mock salute. "One plain coffee coming up, your grumpiness."
Elijah stayed curled up on the couch, still wrapped in his blanket like a burrito of existential dread.
Kieran had finally left him alone, retreating to the kitchen to make coffee. Unfortunately, Kieran in the kitchen was about as subtle as a herd of elephants.
Elijah flinched as the sound of a spoon hitting the floor echoed through the dorm.
He was convinced Kieran didn't know how to do anything quietly.
"You don't have to use every dish we own just to make coffee," Elijah called out.
"Yes, I do!" Kieran shouted back. "It's called artistry. You wouldn't understand."
Elijah sighed, burying his face in the blanket. "What you call artistry, I call unnecessary noise pollution."
The noise continued—cupboards slamming, drawers opening and closing, and the unmistakable sound of something heavy hitting the floor.
"Oops," Kieran said sheepishly.
Elijah groaned. "You better not have broken the coffee machine."
"Relax, it's fine! Just... slightly tilted now."
The clattering grew louder. "You're just bitter because you didn't sleep. Maybe I'll make your coffee extra bitter to match your mood."
Before Elijah could respond, another door creaked open. Visconti stumbled out of his room, his hair a mess and his eyes half-closed. He squinted at Kieran in the kitchen, then at the figure on the couch.
"Why is it so loud? Did a raccoon break in or something—" His sleepy eyes widened when they landed on Elijah, still wrapped in his blanket cocoon, staring blankly at the ceiling.