Silas awoke to a blow to the gut. His eyes darted across the bedroom for the invader. Yesterday’s clothes stuck out of the dresser drawers. The world map and all of its pins and postcards hung on the back of the door undisturbed. Nothing. Little by little, a broken breath slowly returned to him. Silas noticed the bare ceiling hook. Wheaton wasn’t there. A foreign weight remained crushing his ribs. There in the center of his stomach the forty pound firefly lay comfortably asleep in his basket. Torn string draped across the wicker handle that once suspended the basket from a hook in the ceiling. A bubble blew from Wheaton's nose as he rolled over under thin blankets. Silas groaned and squinted at his nightstand. The digital clock declared '6:43 AM' with blocky red text. He almost wanted to call this breathless wake up call lucky. At least the radio alarm didn’t come on with that horrid Department Store jingle again. Silas quickly pushed the lyrics to the back of his mind. He was not about to relive those days.
	"Wheaton, get up!" said Silas.
	With a heave of the basket, Silas flung the slumbering Volbeat upward. Wheaton flipped and turned in the air, but refused to fall. His wings buzzed to life as he struggled to open his eyes to the sun filtering through the bedroom windows.
	"I knew that basket would break eventually. I don’t think wicker and string are rated for fat ass bugs. Maybe it's time you give sleeping on the ground like a normal Pokémon another shot?"
	Wheaton turned his nose up. Rubbing his wings together, he emulated a losing game show buzzer in retort.  He flew to reassemble his bed stuffs and squared away the pillow and neatly lined the basket with the blanket. The Volbeat hitched the handle of the wicker basket to the hook. The handle caught the hook with a crunch. Defiantly, Wheaton snuck back into the suspended basket and waved Silas away with a stubby hand.
	"Beauty sleep, huh? You're not 'one-of-those' Pokémon you know. We still have to work. Where do you think all those chocolate covered almonds you sneak from my stash come from? Yeah, that's right. Don't think I don't notice a few dozen missing out of the bag. Can Volbeat even have those? Either way, rise and grind, Wheaton!"
	The basket handle couldn't take the strain any longer. Wiry wicker splinters frayed and snapped. Wheaton plummeted to the bed below again. Silas wrenched his body up and out of bed before the mattress absorbed the weighty bug and his broken bed. The bed springs recoiled and jostled Wheaton free of his warm sheets. Silas clenched his jaw at the metallic snapping. Wheaton's basket lay in a now permanent indent on his bed. 
	"Great, there goes both of our sleep for the rest of the week."
	A voice carried through the open window, "Silas! Get out here and help me load this twenty footer into the shop!"
	Silas opened the half-shut blinds to flood the room with fresh sun. The ocean breeze rolled in and the full horizon of Lilycove's shoreline glazed over in clear skies. Silas saw his dad in the street below waving both hands over head. Standing in front of the company truck towing a luxury speed boat behind it. His dad's gruff voice called again over the Wingull squawking and idling motors, "Silas Loch, we need to get her sea worthy today. Get down here now!" He watched his dad climb back in the cabin of the truck. The door slammed behind him and a letter fell off the company branding sticker. It now read, "LOCH AND SEA, B AT REPAIR".
	Silas shook his head, "Looks like another rich fag can't wait to get their boat in the water, Wheaton. And maybe later in the week we'll be servicing a really bad baseball team."