Fisher called me later that day at midnight. I’ve always had trouble sleeping, like any other teenage insomniac. I’m too tired to do anything besides lay in bed, but I don’t feel like going to sleep either. It’s annoying, it really is, and I pay the price for it in the morning. Anyways, Fisher called me, and I was still awake so I was able to answer it just fine. I didn’t really think when I answered it, not really. I just sort of answered without even looking at who was calling, finding myself too tired and exhausted to look.
“It’s midnight,” I whispered, not wanting to wake up my family.
“So I’ve noticed. Hey, I just ordered Sims 4 and I made a family.”
“Fisher—“
“—I made you. Your hair looks nothing like yours, so I made it cooler. I couldn’t find a ‘dick to everyone’ trait, so I just made you insane.”
“Fisher—“
“I also made you an astronaut. You’ll be providing for the family, kind of. Astronauts don’t make much.”
“Fisher—“
“I’m also trying to get you a lady friend. I figured a virtual girl is better than no girl. Am-I-right—“
“Braydon! What the hell are you doing?”
“I told you, playing Sims 4.”
Stupid answers are almost as annoying as stupid questions, I swear. Fisher was getting on my damn nerve. I hated talking to people at night. I have to put up with them all day, and that’s more than enough.
“Why the hell are you calling me at twelve a.m.?”
I heard Fisher sigh on the other end. Fisher always sighs. He’s the goddamn prince of sighs. It pissed me off. “I wanted to say fuck you and I’m sorry.”
“And this couldn’t wait until morning?” I whisper-yelled.
“I don’t like going to sleep with a dirty conscience. We cool?”
“Go to bed, you’re probably stoned.”
Fisher never liked when I assumed he was high, especially when he was. He always threw a fit, spat “whatever” in my face, then walked off to get high some more. He’s a fucking moron.
“Yeah? And what if I am? At least I have the guts to say sorry.”
I rolled my eyes and pulled the covers over my head. I felt cold, all of a sudden, like the heat inside my body decided to fly South for the winter to find a warmer person. I was so goddamn cold.
“I have nothing to be sorry about,” I stated simply, which was the truth.
Fisher scoffed, “You never have anything to be sorry about. It’s always everybody else who does, right? It’s always everyone else’s fucking problem, it’s never yours. Everyone else has to say sorry, but never you. Never you, Owen.”
I felt pissed off, really pissed off. I didn’t like people calling me in the middle of the night. I didn’t like people telling me they’re sorry in the middle of the night. And I definitely didn’t like people judging me in the middle of the night. You know how they say you’re not supposed to listen to sad music at 2 a.m.? Well you probably shouldn’t talk to people that make you sad either, especially if they’re just a broken record on repeat.
“If you just called me to talk shit about me, then I’d like to go to sleep. G’night—“
“No! Dammit, shit, I didn’t mean that. I mean, I did, but not like that. It came out wrong. I’m sorry, dude, I really am. And I have to tell you now, because I’m never gonna have the courage to say it again. So there, I’m sorry.”
I let Fisher’s words sink in. I took each one of them as a staccato sentence, studying each carefully. Silence enveloped us both for a while as my thoughts bounced back and forth. My head hurt, it hurt a lot. That’s just another reason you shouldn’t do anything at night; you start thinking.
“You’re about as cheesy as Wisconsin,” I muttered, finding all this cliché corniness absolutely disgusting. I felt like a burden, but also like I wanted to rip Fisher’s goddamn head off for worrying so damn much. I just wanted to go to sleep, really.
“Ha, good one! But I’m stoned, so I find anything funny.”
“I swear, you make me want to kill myself, Fisher.”
There was a drawn out silence, too uncomfortable even for me.
“I’m joking,” I added, “you’re not nearly important enough to go through the trouble.”
Another silence, one that was even longer. Then, faintly, but surely, I heard steady breathing and then a couple snores. The goddamn bastard fell asleep. That fucking moron calls me in the middle of the night only to fall asleep in the middle of the conversation. What a pal, really, what a marvelous pal.
“Whatever. Goodnight.”
I didn’t sleep that night. But I was tired, I’m always tired.
A/N: There are so many Sims 4 playthroughs, even Fisher had to get on the band wagon. Cheers. - Parker
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The Misadventures of Owen Bonner
Teen Fiction❝I swear, people are the cause of cancer.❞
