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Jimmy's breathing is slow and even. His sheets and pillows shroud him in a comforting, warm embrace. The only sound is the beating of his heart; strong thumps on the deep inhale, slow, gentle pulses on the long exhale. He's so tired, so so so exhausted. He could… just about… fall aslee-
Jimmy's jerked awake by the sudden, brief sensation of falling.
A surge of frustration has him sitting upright and balling his hands into fists. He's hardly slept all night and it's- what time is it?
The trail of a charging cable leads to his phone sandwiched between two pillows. He squints to read the time as the screen lights up.
3:23 am.
Great. That's just great. Behavioral Ecology lecture is at 8am tomorrow. That leaves him with only three hours and thirty seven minutes before his morning alarm. Plus, it's not even certain that he'll fall asleep anytime soon, let alone stay asleep.
Nodding off during lecture or skipping altogether is not an option. The stakes are high; he totally flubbed the most recent assignment- a paper on temporal niches. He got the paper back today and every paragraph was riddled with red ink. Turns out he had mixed up the terms "diurnal" and "crepuscular" through all 5 pages of his essay.
Such a stupid mistake, and all for a stupid reason. He'd rushed it- pulled an all-nighter and submitted it just before the deadline. If he hadn't spent the weekend out late with Joel and Grian, that time could've been spent working on his paper. Maybe then he wouldn't have made such a superfluous mistake.
It starts with wasting away a weekend, then he has to crunch to get his coursework done, and of course he fucks it up horribly. Now, he'll be too sleep-deprived to learn anything in lecture, which means he's got no shot at doing well on the midterm, and if he gets a bad grade in this class, he's got no chance at the fieldwork internship this summer. Without the internship, forget about grad school- who would even consider him for a PhD track? He might as well just drop out if he's just going to keep screwing things up over and over and over and learn nothing from it.
Jimmy must ruin everything he touches. Nobody else makes stupid mistakes like this. Everyone else is handling this just fine! Why can't he just-!
There's a click- then the droning hum of the AC turning on. A few seconds later, a rush of cool air from the vent sends a shiver down Jimmy's spine.
Okay, okay…
He needs to at least try to sleep.
It's good the AC turned on; if it's colder, it should be easier to fall asleep. Humans are diurnal, diurnal, diurnal. It gets cold at night, so low temperatures activate the production of melatonin.
Uh… crepuscular. How to remember crepuscular? What's a ubiquitous crepuscular animal that starts with "C"? Cats! Cats… like crêpes. Yes, the crêpe eating cats are crepuscular.
Cue another round of pillow flipping and fluffing, shimmying and readjusting, settling and slowing down.
Deep breath in- sleepy cat blinking- deep breath out- sleepy cat purring - deep breath in- sleepy cat-
-Jimmy remembers he never got a text back from Oli about going to the cat cafe this weekend. Actually, he hasn't gotten a message back from Oli in a few weeks.
Why hasn't Oli replied? Did Jimmy say something wrong? Was he too persistent? Too pushy? It would make sense if Oli's not interested in being friends anymore now that they go to different schools. There are so many people out there cooler and more fun than him. Why would he want to travel all this way just to be around someone like Jimmy? Who's to say he even wanted to hang out with him when they did go to school together? Maybe it was just convenient. Maybe he just-
No! No, stop.
He. has. to. sleep.
Jimmy reaches for a pillow and wraps his arms around it, inhales deeply, and squeezes it as tight as he possibly can. He holds his breath- tighter… tighter…! and!!!- collapses with a throaty exhale.
Relax. It's okay. It's time to sleep.
Just relax.
just sleep
…
…
…
…Heat.
Blistering and bone-dry.
Sweat drips down his brow and into his eyes. It stings, but he can't blink- can't miss a second of the chaos, shouting, fighting- the signal!
Do it. Do it. Do it!
A click- yes, good!
Then, thunderous mirthful explosions! Percussion to the melody of chaos.
Exhilarating!
A whirlwind of gusting sand swallows the sun.
His mouth hangs open in awe. Flying grains scatter across his tongue, earthy and gritty.
The boisterous blasts dwindle.
The dust begins to settle. He draws his bow. Targets are revealed.
Locked in. Pull from the quiver, draw back, steady, aim, shoot!
Again. Draw, aim, shoot.
Go, go, go- a hit!
Agh!
A rush of blistering heat pierces his shoulder.
This can't be the end. He has to get out of here!
Eyes frantically find the escape route. He lunges towards the wooden rungs of salvation- and-!
Jimmy jolts upright with a ragged gasp of air, hands clutching at his heart. The echo of a vicious sensation grips his chest.
Did he just die?!
Adrenaline rushes his senses- ears ringing, heart pounding, vision hazy. Frightening unease crawls all over his skin.
"I'm scared," he pants out between rapid, terrified breaths, "I'm so scared."
Fear rakes its claws down his back. He scrambles to cower under his covers- curling up into a tight knot.
Panicked breath radiates off of soft cotton and warms his face with humid air. The ringing in his ears begins to fade.
It feels like he has sand in his mouth. He swallows to try and clear it, but all it does is send a sharp rock of pain down his esophagus.
He needs water.
For a moment, Jimmy's body makes no start to leave the furrow of sweaty bed sheets.
Reluctantly, he untangles himself from his cocoon. His arms stay wrapped around himself in tight compression as he leaves his wallowing room behind.
Beyond the thud of his door closing, the apartment is unnerving. Silence carves hollowness into spaces typically filled by jibbering TV, humming appliances, tapping pencils, and heavy-footed neighbors.
Moonlight stripes through the blinds to impress distinct parallel lines onto laminate flooring. The silver bars of light roll over Jimmy as he crosses the space into the kitchen.
Muscle memory leads shaky hands through the motions of grabbing a glass from the cabinet and filling it in the sink. The rushing sound of the running water resonates with the buzzing in Jimmy's mind. He doesn't notice the glass is full until it's overflowing cool water over his hand and wrist, chiming as it drips into the metal basin.
The knob squeaks as the tap is turned off.
With his dry hand braced on the countertop, Jimmy sips the water, swishes it around in his mouth, and spits it into the sink. Rinse and repeat until the glass is empty, but it's hardly cleared the gritty feeling in his mouth.
He looks into the sink- the basin and catch are free of any granules.
Tears prick in his eyes as suffocating disorientation sets his heart racing. If there's no sand, then why can he still feel it?
The passing thought of crawling back into bed grips Jimmy's heart tight with anxiety. He should just surrender to the fact that he's not going to be able to sleep tonight.
He adds his empty cup to the pile of dishes in the sink with a clink that feels ten times louder than it is.
Light footsteps carry Jimmy into the living room. The couch groans as he takes up his place on it. He sinks like lead: elbows on knees, head in hands, and palm heels pressed into his eyes.
Unease and wrongness whirl in Jimmy's mind. It's like he's been sucked out of his body and put into another that looks perfectly alike.
Wherever he is, he's not right here.
He's hardly anything at all.
For the first time all night,
Jimmy's mind is quiet
…
Eventually, the world returns.
A rush of cool air leaves goosebumps in its shivering trail.
Around him: the humming AC, the bars of moonlight shifted to the other side of the room, the sound of a door being opened-
Jimmy's head whips around just in time to catch Joel coming out of his bedroom. He tenses as Joel sleepily looks up from closing his door and locks eyes with him.
"Blimmin' christ!" Joel exclaims as he recoils back into the door.
Jimmy's body flushes hot with humiliation, he quickly turns away and ducks his head.
He's been caught.
"Jimmy? You scared the hell out of me," Joel sputters, catching his breath. "What are you doing up?"
The question bounces around in Jimmy's head and echoes indiscernible whispers of thought.
He shrugs.
Joel hums an affirmation. "Caffeine too late?"
He shakes his head 'no'.
Suddenly, the drone of the air-conditioning ceases, pressing a hollow pause into the air.
The silence is broken by a tempo of gently approaching footsteps. The couch creaks and jostles as Joel comes to take his place on it next to Jimmy.
"What's got you up then?" Joel's voice is soft and low like Jimmy's never heard before.
What's… got him up.
A rush of answers- cause, effect, evidence, hypotheses- fly through Jimmy's mind too fast for words to catch. They spark a fury of emotion: fear, shame, frustration, guilt, defeat. His mind vibrates with the intensity.
All he can do is stare down at his hands gripping his knees while his exposed skin pricks with the dead air.
Jimmy jolts as a warm hand is placed on his shoulder. A glance towards Joel traps Jimmy in his his gaze.
Amid the dim blues and greys of this liminal divot in the world, Joel's searchlight amber brown eyes are the first real thing to find Jimmy all night.
Joel's eyebrows scrunch in consideration, seeing something inscrutable in Jimmy. He purses his lips, and his eyes dart briefly to his bedroom door.
Joel's got a gleam in his eye as he says, "I've got something I wanna show you." His hand on Jimmy's shoulder tightens in a comforting squeeze.
"But first," Joel's brash baritone is back in an instant. He uses his grip on Jimmy as leverage to get up off the couch. "I gotta take a leak."
Joel crosses under the rays of parallel moonbeams on his way to the bathroom. As the door closes, Jimmy feels a pang of guilty neediness in the wake of his absence.
The unmistakable sound of urine splashing into a toilet bowl pierces through the apartment and yanks Jimmy out of his wistful longing. His gaze snaps away from the bathroom door, but his hazy, exhausted mind can do nothing to distract from the awkwardness of hearing Joel peeing. Eventually, the stream ceases and is flushed away.
As the bathroom tap runs, Jimmy prepares himself for being perceived again. He wonders if Joel can tell he's been wallowing in his worries. No doubt he's put off, repulsed even, living with someone who's such a wreck.
"Jim?"
Jimmy looks over his shoulder to where Joel's standing behind him. His body is segmented into parts by filtered moonlight. When had he-?
"C'mon, it's in my room." Joel nods in the direction of his door.
Puppet strings pull Jimmy's body to move. He braces his hands on his knees to rise off the couch and cross the room.
As Joel's door squeaks open, a threshold is revealed: a room bathed in yellow lamplight that spills out to an inviting radius of warmth.
Jimmy hesitates; the barrier of the bedroom crackles with static. Deliberate steps bring him forward until he's enveloped in something so unlike the purgatory of an empty night.
The room is a grove of color and chaos. Anything bare or empty has been snuffed out by clutter or collection.
Every inch of wall is covered in a neat grid of posters and flyers- movies, bands, anime, punk shows, local events, lost pets, and advertisements.
The largest wall boasts a more delicate menagerie. Numerous glossy magazine clippings fill floor to ceiling; neat rectangles and squares of all sizes and shapes- bold hues and cohesive compositions of landscapes, animals, people, buildings. The individual cells coalesce into a grander mosaic of shape, pattern, and color.
The ceiling is draped with geometric tapestries in dark, saturated tones. Bouncing lamplight kisses them with translucency.
Joel effortlessly navigates an obstacle course of strewn belongings- clothes, grocery bags, papers, yellow-spined magazines, is that a horse head mask?- over to a frameless mattress. He dips to scoop up a pile of clothes off it and deposits them on top of an already full laundry basket.
Joel motions to the cleared space amid a whirlpool of patterned jersey sheets. "Have a seat."
Jimmy has to carefully watch where he steps to get over to the bed. He squats to awkwardly crawl onto it and settles with his knees pulled to his chest.
Joel's at his desk rummaging through a clattering forest of cans. Several go tumbling off the edge as he seemingly finds what he was looking for.
"This came in today," Joel states, yawning into his words as he continues, "I got it from the tiktok shop." His back is to Jimmy, so Jimmy can't see what he's got.
Joel reaches for his desk lamp and clicks off the light.
Darkness swallows a singular heartbeat.
Then cool, brilliant light envelopes the room.
The opposite wall shines and radiates a projection of swirling, shifting blues and purples, and drifting green dots. The underlyying mosaic of magazine clippings twists and turns the light with glossy reflection and mesmerizing, complex color.
The mattress dips as Joel comes to join Jimmy on the bed.
Jimmy's attention drifts from the dance of light across photographs to the individual dancers themselves.
A laser green dot draws his eyes to a depiction of a caged yellow songbird, centered and small in an encompassing swath of industrial tones- rust, dust, and dirt spattering equipment. A pulley is poised to descend.
A catch of light directs to a wide ocean horizon spanned along a cliff's edge. A lone figure looks out through a telescope into the distance. Where sheer rock meets ocean below, jagged boulders break violent, crashing waves.
The contrasting hue of a neighboring photo displays rolling emerald green hills embracing each other into the far distance. They're dotted with specks of grazing animals that tread path and purpose into the spanning landscape.
If there's a common thread between these photographs, it's not one Jimmy can discern. He wonders what it was that made Joel cut out these pictures instead of others.
Jimmy glances over to Joel and flinches when he immediately catches his eyes. Joel had been looking at him.
A blush paints high on Joel's cheeks and his face scrunches with a close-lipped smile. "Pretty cool, isn't it?"
The wake of the question lingers between them- gentle waves rocking closeness- until it naturally resolves itself without answer.
Joel stretches his arms up into the air with a loud, long yawn that's apexed with a dramatic flop backwards onto his bed and a satisfying sigh. He reaches for a pillow and tosses it in Jimmy's direction.
Jimmy finches in time for the projectile to harmlessly collide with his arms and flop flat to the bed. His hands are slow to lower and reach for the innocuous pillow. He wedges it between his back and the corner wall.
Jimmy leans back and takes in the spectacle again.
Oh, there's a clipping of a frog! It's perched on the edge of a speared leaf. The ghostly white translucency of its skin reveals a network of living circuitry below- veins, guts, bones and heart.
Are there any more animals? Yes, a dog, but it's so sad. The mutt lays flat to dry, cracked earth. Around its neck is a sterling pronged collar begotten to linked chain circling a rotted tree. Dry branches extend to the slate bareness of a grey sky.
And- a snail! Ah, but it's been squished. Presumably by some passing footstep on a sidewalk that's overgrown with bursting yellow and white firework dandelions.
People are animals too, Jimmy supposes, as his sight is caught by an aerial shot of a stage swallowed by the vast sea of a crowd many times its size.
The sound of a snorting snore draws Jimmy's awareness back towards Joel.
Joel's solidly asleep. He's on his side facing Jimmy, head lolled on the bicep of his extended arm. His face is so totally relaxed it's almost uncanny, although glimmers of familiar expressions poke through with twitches of a furrowed brow or smirking lips.
Jimmy tries to suppress his envy that Joel could fall asleep so fast. What he wouldn't give to be relaxed and comfortable like that.
Creaking joints unwind Jimmy's limbs as he slowly descends to laying on his back in the embrace of Joel's bed.
He can't see as much of the collage like this. Still, at the pinnacle of mirage, where wall meets ceiling, where the plain meets the beyond, stands a full-page viewpoint to the galaxy.
A frame of pine trees reach towards celestial salvation. A sea sky of stars spill into milky stratus. A brave, lone comet breaks through the noise; its contrail paints intention across a glittering sky.
An intention of success, renown, reception… no.
Is it fulfillment, purpose, direction?
It can't be… truly it's performance, spectacle, and feeding an insatiable beast.
And, yet, it's really just a burning rock in the vast nothingness. And soon, it'll be gone. But right now, it's right here.
And so is he. Just, right here, right now.
No matter how many universes.
No matter how many lives.
All he is- all he can be-
is right here, right now.
a click.
a hum.
a rush of cold air…
…
Waves of wakefulness begin to wash away grains of sand.
Jimmy's eyes flutter open to a room he recognizes as not his own, but not the suspension of reality he had fallen asleep in.
Had it been dawn prying at the night and calling him awake, or the projector's workings eventually fading the display that had banished the ethereal magic? Who's to say?
Either way, it was inevitable.
The threat of daytime urges action.
Jimmy slowly sits up and glances towards Joel. He's turned away. Jimmy's cautious as he crawls off Joel's bed and navigates the disorder of the room.
In the exiting doorway, something compels Jimmy to glance back to the magazine collage. A bold ray of dawning sunlight streaks over the swath of it and obscures the multitude of glossy images into blank white refraction.
There's nothing to be gleaned from it now. He's just got to keep going.
The closing door sends concentric ripples through the universe.