Shades of Gray

"This laptop is starting to burn my lap," I mutter to myself, hands entering the password to my phone. The device unlocks, a bold 4:00 AM appearing on the screen. I yawn, closing my computer shut without actually shutting it down. The fan quiets down after a few seconds.

Now, my dorm is dark, the faint light from the screen of my phone brightening up the darkness slightly. Josh snores softly from across the room, oblivious to anything and everything when he sleeps.

I check the time again. 4:03 AM. My alarm is set to go off in nearly an hour and a half, and as tired as I am, I won't be getting any sleep anyway, so I turn it off, letting out another yawn as I uncover myself from blankets, the somewhat cold air biting my hairy legs.

As quietly as I can, I traipse over to the restroom joint with our dorm to the next, and turning on the shower.

When I step inside, the water is yet still freezing cold. I swear, body going still as the hydrogen-oxygen mix warms up to a decent temperature.

In about an hour, my half-blonde hair smells like peppermint and the clock reads 5:09 AM.

***

"How late were you up last night?" Franceschi asks me, hands running through his fluffy hair as he gazes at himself in the mirror. The boy has quite the ego.

"Haven't gone to bed yet," I reply, foot knocking against the bed-board of the cheap college furniture, one knock per second.

"You haven't slept in nearly seventy-two hours," my roommate tells me.

Seventy-three hours, four minutes.

I don't reply.

"You should see a doctor about this."

"I am," I respond, sliding down the bed and checking the time. I know what time it is, of course I do, I always do, but it's comforting to know I'm right.

"Barakat isn't a doctor," Josh says pointedly, glancing at me from the mirror, his gaze probably just missing me.

"No, I'm not seeing him," I sigh. "though when he graduates he'll probably be the best damn doctor in the United States."

Josh lets out a sound of a small tsk.

"You've got to get over your obsession with the kid, seriously."

I move over to my drawers, sliding the top one open to reveal probably about twenty six watches, each in perfect synchronization. Some are digital and some are classic, but they all display the time down to the seconds. Everyone tells me that if I have a phone, I shouldn't need a watch, but it's nice to have as a sort of sense of safety.

"What time are you meeting him?" Josh asks me, Nirvana t-shirt sliding over his head. I secure the strap of my watch on my wrist.

"Not sure," I bite my lip subconsciously for effect.

My eyes are sore and my eyelids feel heavy.

"Oh?" Now I've really caught his attention. "You didn't schedule something down to the second?"

I snort. "You act like I'm OCD."

He simply shakes his head at me, stepping forward and slipping a beanie over my hair, and rubbing some sort of lotion on my face. Josh often reminds me of my mother.

"What are you doing?" I ask, somewhat annoyed.

"You look like a fucking zombie, Alex. Take a quick nap."

I shake my head stubbornly, hands grabbing my keys. "I'll be back later."

"You have class at six, remember?" He reminds me.

I make my way to the awkward, run down parking garage, but my vision is so blurred that I can't tell which car is really mine.

"Fuck insomnia," I swear, clicking the alarm button. A beeping sort of shrill fills the construction, and I notice a pair of red flashing lights in the corner. That's my car. I turn off the alarm and head to it.

I'm too tired to be driving, but there's a Rockstar in my glove compartment. I might be able to go another day without sleeping. I turn the key in the ignition. The clock reads 8:14 AM.

***

When I pull up to the nearby Scooter's, a famous chain of coffeehouses, Jack's car is already parked. I can see him through the window, his hair tousled. I wonder if he had sex last night. The younger boy has mentioned to me on several occasions that he doesn't quite enjoy repeated companionship, but I'm sure he wouldn't turn down a couple of fucks.

Coffee sounds good right now. I turn the key in the ignition to off, pulling the key out. You can never have too much caffeine. I stumble out of the car, the sound of the slam deafening my ears, giving me more of a headache than I already do. Not sleeping for three days sort of reminds me of hangovers.

The coffeehouse greets me with a gust of air as soon as I open the door, but the actual building itself seems warm enough. Jack is now in the corner, noticeable to everyone with that unprofessional blonde streak of hair, sipping a mug while casually watching people across the street from the window.

"You look like shit," he informs me cheekily as I sit down in the seat in front of him.

"Thanks," I mutter, watching him take a sip of the hot drink. My heart rate feels kind of slow.

"Do you want some coffee?" he asks me, already beckoning the serving girl over. She gives him a quick smile, signaling that she'll be over in a second.

I shrug. He's already getting me coffee anyways, never mind that I have had a ton of caffeine already. But he doesn't need to know that. My head is pounding. Is there such thing as too much?

"Alex," Jack says, and his voice is kind of serious.

"Hmm?" I blink.

"I was asking if you were doing anything today." He's studying me, lip between his lip and his eyes squinted slightly.

"Not really," I admit. "I have Psych later today though. I might skip it."

He perks up at this. "With Gallagher?"

I give a slight nod, not fully into the conversation. Thinking of having to sit through a two hour lecture makes my head hurt. Even if the lecture is about heads. Ha.

"I'm giving a presentation on disconnecting your brain from your body for extra credit with his Mind Over Matter crash run. Don't skip it," he tells me. "We can go have dinner or something later, too."

I give a half agreeing grunt. Food. Maybe that's what I'm missing.

"I can do a date," I tell him with a half smile. The coffee waitress comes over and takes my order on a large black coffee.

"Date?" Jack smirks. He's quiet for a second, and I'm half afraid I've said the wrong thing. "Yeah, I guess I can do a date. You can come over to my room and we can watch an incredibly manly movie like Titanic and make out-" he pauses and then finishes the rest in a breathy voice. "lazily and passionately."

I smile back in the same intoned expression. The waitress gives me my coffee.

It's 8:37 AM.