Anonpencil writes while sleepdeprived as fuck: Nightmareish

>You stare at your bedside clock, then back up at the ceiling, then back again. From what you can tell, time has actually come to a complete halt.
>The crickets outside have created a soft lullaby of unchanging melody and rhythm, and it seems like an hour since the minute hand has last moved.
>You stare it down for a moment, willing it to move, counting over and over to 10 in your head, in the hopes it will get the hint. It doesn't. You blink, and when you open your eyes you think it's inched forward. But you're not even sure.
>Damn it. It wasn't supposed to be like this.
>What are you even doing here? In this treehouse, living with a pony and a fucking dragon who vomits mail sometimes. In this weird cartooney world where nothing changes, no time ever passes, and nothing even matter in the long run. Everything is perfect now, so why are you so miserable?
>Hell, even your roommate is kind of cool, if not a little anal sometimes. But you feel wrong, like you don't belong here, like you stick out.
>No one really cares about you.
>No one really loves you or gives a damn.
>You sigh.
>This isn't working. You're not sleeping. You tried counting sheep, warm milk (though god knows where the little dragon fucker got it from), singing yourself a lullaby. Yes, even the dulcet tones of Pantera haven't been able to send you to happy sleepy fun dreamland time.
>Honestly, it's time to call in the big guns.
>Remember that roommate? That purple unicorn named Twilight?
>Well, her magic is good for more than just an occasional party trick and for tormenting certain little purple lizard pests who watch you when you shower. You've seen her heal wounds, seen her fix problems, and maybe she can help you find sleep, even if her magic cannot heal your aching heart.
>Oh, boo-hoo, you big baby. Children are starving in China you know, and at least they have a factory job.
>Unlike you.
>Scrub.
>With a grumble of self-hatred and frustration, you climb out of bed and make your way to Twilight's room.
>You gently rap on the door and press your ear to the wood, listening for any signs of life. When you hear none, you knock again a little louder, and the door creaks open at your touch. You freeze, the creak of the hinges sounding louder and usual in the stillness of the night.
>After another moment of silence, you realize you can barely make out the sound of slow, heavy, rhythmic snoring.
>It would almost be adorable, really. If it didn't sound something like a distressed barn owl with each intake of breath.

"Twilight?" you call softly. "You awake?"

>She's snoring. She's obviously not.
>God you're dumb.
>You poke your head around the corner. Sure enough, you see Twilight's form, asleep in her bed, chest rising and falling with each snore. Carefully you tiptoe across the floor to her bedside. She looks so peaceful, but if you can't sleep, well...misery loves company, right?
>You stick out one hesitant hand and prod her shoulder a little.

"Pssst, Twilight," you hiss. "I need you to use your horn to do the magics with me."

>No response. You raise your voice a little.

"Twilight, I need to-"

>You hear a groan and she flops to her side, mumbling something under her breath. You're about to prod her again, when you're pretty certain you catch the sound of your name amidst her sleep-muddled mutterings.
>You listen and she mutters again. This time you're sure. That was definitely your name! You feel your breath catch in your throat.
>Is...is Twilight dreaming about you?

"Anon," she mumbles softly.

"Yes Twilight?" you whisper.

"I'm..." She goes on. "I'm...srry."

>You blink at her. Sorry? You want to ask what that means but she goes on mumbling, probably talking to some dream version of you. Her voice is slurred and lacks any tempo to it, but you can still make out what she's saying.

"I know you're...mmmmbad at saying howya feel," she half groans. "Wull so mm I, and I thingk you're...nice."

>You feel a strange swelling of warmth in your chest. This is...probably the kindest she's ever been to you. Not that she's mean, but usually she's distracted, busy, science focused, always leaving to take care of business. You've never even had the chance to become close.
>And now, here she is, saying that she thinks you're nice? The ego boost was one you didn't know you needed.

"Y-you're nice too," you whisper to her sleeping form.

>She smiles a little, looking damn near angelic, then frowns again. A deep blush begins to spread over her cheeks.

"So mm sorry I never toldju..." she says, sounding genuinely sad.

>She goes silent, adjusts a little, and then is quiet again.
>Sorry she didn't tell you? Didn't tell you what? That blush, that body language, that confession that she thinks your nice. Has it really been that...all this time she's been pushing you away, she's just been dealing with her own feelings for you?
>Maybe...she likes you even more than she let on?
>You feel a tightness seizing your throat as you realize, you can't tell her you know. No matter what she says now, you're destined to have to keep it a secret too, or she'll know you invaded her room while she was sleeping. Again.
>You swallow hard.
>You should leave now, forget you were here, but curiosity overwhelms you. Surely it's better to know, even if it tortures you later.
>Surely, it's better to at least hear her say it and know that someone actually cares about you, even in secret.

"What are you sorry about?" you whisper haltingly, feeling how dry the words are on your lips.

>She turns over, and you can see the blush spreading across her face, the way her nose, mouth are all twisted up like she's trying to hold back, like she's embarrassed.
>All at once, you want to soothe her, touch her just for a moment, just in case you don't get the chance again. You touch her face with your fingertips, gliding slowly down along her cheek in a simple caress. She whimpers at the initial touch, but then a soft smile takes over.
>You smile back.

"I..." she murmurs, voice shaking with sleep and hesitation.

"Yes Twilight?

"I..."

"Yes?"

>There's a moment of silence, and you think she's gone fully under sleep's surface again. Maybe you're destined never to know.
>But then her shoulders shudder, and at last she opens her mouth, smiling a little, and finally you hear her say...

"I've bnn usin your toothbrush toget poop outs my tailhair."

>You stare down at her and slowly remove your hand from her face. Without a word you gradually being to back away, suppressing the gagging feeling that threatens to overwhelm your senses.
>Then you turn from her, shoulders slumped and defeated, and move towards the door in a weary trudge.

"Goodnight Twilight," you whisper, your voice steady and devoid of emotion.

"I've nevr cleaned id," she adds in a dreamy murmur.

"I said goodnight, Twilight."

"Also I thingk I'm nn love with you Anon."

"Eat a whole bag of dicks, Twilight."

>You shut the door behind you and don't look back.

-End-