Who: Emory Harper and Theodore Nott. When: Day 3. October 29. 10am. Where: Back of the library. What: Emory is trying to sleep with no success. Theodore stumbles upon him. Rating: R. Status: Complete.
It had been another sleepless night and Emory felt a bit like crawling out of his skin. As an insomniac, he felt as though he never, ever slept, not a wink. But of course that wasn't entirely true, as a person could only survive for a certain amount of time on no sleep. Normally he caught little bits, twenty minutes here, half an hour there, just enough to survive on and little more.
But in the two and a half days since coming to the Sanctuary, Emory was sure he hadn't slept a wink. And he had tried. In his bed. On the floor. Even on the bathroom floor. To no avail. So most of his nights were spent staring at the ceiling or drawing on his walls, the intricate ink designs slowly but surely growing out from that one corner, a pile of paper cranes growing in another corner.
He had left his room as soon as the doors unlocked. Picked at some food when breakfast came around, went back to his room for some more drawing and then left again. He went to the library to look at books, because sometimes they were inspiring. The one he had eventually pulled off the shelves was about old graveyards, which he thought would be cool and so he had sat down to flip through it.
Half an hour later and he was slouched back in his chair with his legs stretched out on another chair. His head was lolled back, eyes closed, dark lock of hair falling unruly across his forehead. Eyes closed, he looked even younger, boyish and cute, the sort of bloke that tween girls who couldn't decide between boys or teddy bears would giggle over. He was trying to sleep, but of course he wasn't. He was still and breathing even but behind his eyes he was, sadly, wide awake.