Artemis sat alone on his bed. Alone. That was something he hated right now.
It was bothering him. Lately he had become obsessed with fives, heard voices telling him to shatter all known rules- sometimes create new ones- and now he wanted the comfort of another living soul in his room. Something was seriously wrong here.
Artemis counted to five and reached for his laptop, deciding that hacking Foaly might calm his nerves. As soon as he got onto Foaly’s files, however, his screen went blank, and the computer whirred and shut down with an internal noise that sounded like a motorcycle in a cornfield during an ice storm.
That is not good, thought Artemis. A little voice in the back of his head- his own, for once- told him it wasn’t.
Okay, then. Hacking Foaly was definately not an option right now.
AS if on cue, Myles burst into Artemis’s room, sucking on something suggary on a stick. “Whatcha doin’?” he asked, ploping himself on Artemis’s bed.
“Nothing,” Artemis replied truthfully. A sudden thought made itself at home in Artemis’s brain.
“Myles, have you been playing in my computer at all?” By saying in the computer, Artemis was refering to Myles’s habit of tearing electronics apart to see how they worked.
“No,” Myles said truthfully.
Artemis knew the Complex was back. He was doing so well. The parinoia, Orion, even the number five had all gone away for a bit. What had he done to provoke it?
The wind howled like a starved wolf outside.
I land outside his window, watching for a bit. I can feel the roof under my feet. It. Is. Amazing.
The way my breath fogs up the glass is a dead giveaway. But with all his parinoia, he doesn’t see me. So I watch him for a bit. He’s alone now.
He doesn’t hear me. Well, THAT doesn’t happen in the fairy tales, does it? I knock again.
I’ll try untill he opens the window. I may be here awhile.
Artemis found himself counting his steps to the window, where somebody had just knocked. He stoped himself, and took a breath. Nobody there. Exept, there was somebody there, because they knocked again.
I’m being paranoid. Just the Complex. But really, nothing is all right when you’re telling yourself it’s JUST your possesive mental disease.
Artemis thrust open the window.
He opened the window.
I prayed that no feathers would fly as I steped in, or that Artemis would look too closely at my sweatshirt. I took a step from outside the window into fate–
And tripped flat on my face. Again, didn’t happen in fairytales.
I rolled under his bed and said the first thing that came to mind:
“I’m sleeping here tonight.” I didn’t see his face because I was busy checking for any weapons stashed in his room, but the awkwardness was as obvious as a bomb.
“Under my bed?” He askes. I nod. More awkwardness.
Then, slowly, he nods too.
And I’m still alive.