#littlestmccn

LEAVE HIM ALONE!!!!

@emmusingmuses

Teryn’s eyes blink open. Their forehead is coated in a thin veil of sweat, and what few droplets that have formed begin to roll down their face as they sit up.

They begin to throw off the covers lazily, confused, when they register a stinging sensation all up and down their arms. Teryn sucks in a slight hiss of breath, before more carefully removing the covers. 

“Morning, Raphie-” They yawn, slowly rubbing sleep out of their eyes. When they’re done, they look down to see their arms covered in small cuts. 

At 8:50 AM, Cyrus picks his buzzing phone up off the night table and hurls it across the room, tearing it from its charger, where it bounces off his bookshelf and falls to the floor. He turns back over to keep sleeping, grumbling to himself about the good dream he was having.

At 11:52 AM, he finds the phone where Cleo has batted it under his desk. Upon seeing ‘8 Unread Messages’ on the front of the screen, he suspects he might be having those regrets, but he can’t deny he’s still curious.

-The TRU MVPs

-Nerds

-Make their muses SUFFER

Cyrus woke with a start, the realization that he had responsibilities tearing him out of sleep for the third time tonight. With a soft groan, he sat up and rubbed his eyes, blinking blearily at the history textbook that had become his temporary pillow. A small spot of drool stained one of the pages. Great, he thought, hand moving to shove his curls out of his face. His hair was barely long enough to pass his ears, and already, the motion was becoming automatic. A glance back at the clock on his bedside table told him it was 11:48.

Clearly, this was not getting done tonight. Not without something to drink.

Slipping out of his desk chair, as quietly as possible, Cyrus moved to the door and listened. It was late. The house was quiet. With the utmost delicacy, he turned the doorknob and pulled his bedroom door open. The lights were off. He could see no flickering from the tv in the living room. His parents had gone to bed. He silently thanked his luck as he padded out of his room to the dark kitchen.

Moonlight streamed in through the window, lighting up the linoleum and casting a glamour over the dirty dishes in the sink, disguising their dirt and grime. Cyrus went straight to the humming fridge. Light spilled out when he opened the door–heaven’s light, as far as he was concerned. He snagged a can of Sprite and moved onto the utensil drawer, where he grabbed the first straw his fingers touched and booked it back to his bedroom, where a pair of wide, blue-green eyes greeted him. He smiled and said, “There’s my Cleo…“

The cat simply blinked, and after closing the door behind him, he sat next to her on the bed, popped open the can of soda, and plunked in his straw. He had grabbed a dolphin-shaped one, he noticed. That was new. How his mother still managed to find new straws after five years baffled him. Not that it mattered.

He sipped at his soda as Cleo climbed in his lap, already purring, and he smiled as he pet her and scratched behind her ears. That smile grew as a thought occurred to him. They had been learning about the history of Persia in school.