I forlornly stared at the ceiling of my bedroom. It was so quiet that I could hear my soft breathing. It was so dark, as well; the only source of light was the smallest hint of blue coming from my bedroom window. That and the digital clock on my nightstand. I moved my head to the side and looked at it. 9:13, a little over 10 minutes after Marx sent me to bed. I sigh and look back up at the ceiling.
I couldn't get to sleep. I tried to close my eyes, but every time I did I couldn't keep them closed for long. I had laid there in the same position for almost 10 minutes: the back of my head on the pillow, my arms at my sides. I didn't know what the problem was. Up until now I haven't had trouble sleeping. But now, I actually had almost as much energy as I did during the day.
I awkwardly shuffled in my bed, trying to get out of the covers. Maybe the blanket was the problem. After removing the blanket and covers, I laid there for a couple of minutes. I didn't feel any more comfortable. In fact, I was starting to get a little cold. Maybe I needed to sleep in a different position. Yes, that might work. I got in a position where my head was at the opposite end of the bed. When that didn't work, I got in a position where my head was hanging upside down off the side of the bed. Unsurprisingly, that didn't work either. I sighed in despair, getting up. What in the world is it gonna take for me to get to sleep? Maybe, just maybe, I needed something to hold on to, in order to calm me down. It always worked when Marx and I did it together, even if some of those times were just Marx doing it and I was fighting to stay awake so that I could spend a little more time with him. I looked at my bed, specifically at my pillow. I got back into the bed, awkwardly wrapped my arms around it, and held it against my chest. It was actually very comfortable.
…And yet, lo and behold, here I was 5 minutes later, still awake and with eyes similar to that of Marx Soul's. I was about ready to scream like him, too. What used to be 10 minutes turned into 20, and I was starting to get impatient. Why the heck can't I just go to sleep already?! I sighed heavily and buried my face in the pillow I was holding. However, it seemed that I sighed just a little too loudly, because I heard my bedroom door creak open.
“Edward, are you awake?” A soft, familiar voice spoke to me, interrupting the silence. I sat up on the bed, looking at Marx, who was looking back at me. I nod slightly.
“Yes… I can't sleep…” My own soft voice interrupted the silence again. It was true, I couldn't get to sleep.
Marx smiled weakly. “You know, I think I have just the thing to help,” he said. “Follow me to the kitchen.”
I followed Marx downstairs and into the kitchen, where he got out a medium-sized glass from one of the many cupboards. My curiosity only doubled when he started to dig around in the fridge for something. He got out a large jug of milk, poured It in the glass, and put in the microwave.
“What are you making?” I asked.
“Warm milk,” Marx said reassuringly. “Trust me, this will put you right to sleep.”
After a couple of seconds, the microwave dinged, and Marx removed the glass and set it down in front of me. He waddled over to the sink, grabbed a straw, and put it in the glass. I glanced at it.
“Are you sure this will help me sleep?”
“Positive. Whenever I have trouble sleeping, I drink this, and only a couple of minutes later I'm out like a light.”
“If you say so…” I started to drink it, and the way it tasted started to make me feel a lot calmer. I finished in only a couple of seconds, and after I was done with it, I started to feel tired and my eyes started to become heavy.
“Looks like it's working,” Marx chuckled.
I only yawned in response. I started to get up, fumbling a little bit. I was tired, very tired. Just from that glass of milk.
“Guess it did the job,” Marx said as he waddled up to me.
“Yeah…” I said quietly. I yawned again, fighting to keep my eyes open.
“Come on Edward,” Marx said, walking in the direction of the stairs, “let's get you to bed.”
I slowly followed him. I was hunched over slightly, my arms dangling pimply by my sides. I never thought that a simple glass of milk would make you this sleepy, but it did… well, for me at least. When we reached my bedroom, I stumbled over to my bed. Marx pulled me under the covers. The covers and blankets, they felt so soft, so warm, and so calming.
“Goodnight, Edward,” Marx said calmly, softly patting the top of my head.
“Goodnight, Marx…” I said, my voice just barely above a whisper. And with that, Marx spawned a beach ball from under himself and rolled to the door, looking back at me with a smile. He slowly and quietly closed the door.
My eyes slowly closed, and I let the world of slumber embrace me once more…