#plainvanilla_reboot

Simon wakes in the dark with a start. An alarmed snort escapes him as he squints, blearily studying the ceiling of his bedroom. He glances to his right. 5:12 AM, the digital clock on the nightstand tells him. His alarm wouldn’t blare for another hour. Slowly, he presses a hand to the side of his skull. It throbs. Worm.

It had been real, hadn’t it? He hadn’t done any of his lucid-dream exercises. It directly correlated to the dream he’d had- bushy brows raise in surprise as he rubs his head. Oh, god, it’d been months and months ago now, hadn’t it? Six, seven? Time really does fly, he’s been so busy. Was Worm okay? It’d just- Whoa. He is exhausted. All over. And tight.

His stomach grumbles obnoxiously.

Simon grimaces. He is almost painfully hungry again. Bracing his palms against the mattress, he sits up and groans as his world begins to spin. It’s normal for him to wake up starving, but this is a dizzying level of hunger, the sort that loops back into being almost too sick to eat.

“Not again,” he slurs, to nobody in particular, ignoring the warm lull of returning to sleep. He won’t bother. He’s too hungry to try. He’s got to be up in an hour to get ready for Wiz Arts anyway.

He heaves himself out of bed, finding the endeavor much more difficult today than normal. Combined with his lightheadedness, he plops back onto the brown comforter with a grunt. His stomach turns with nausea. He’s not well. He feels… drained. Like everything’s been taken out of him, and he hasn’t even started his day yet. It's never been this bad before.

Perhaps Worm was feeding on his energy after all.

His middle rumbles again, insistently, and his mouth waters. He puts his hand on his gut as he realizes just how tight his skin feels, only for ice-cold panic to run up his spine in an instant. Wrong, the thought comes out, swift and loud in his head as he fumbles for the pull chain on his lamp. Light floods the tiny bedroom, and Simon strains against the pain in his eyeballs as he stares down at his torso, his heart clutching in his chest.