Harry turned his body for the thousandth time, still unable to find a comfortable position. With a sigh he glanced at the alarm clock, which read 3:15 AM.

He lay down on his back, hands folded over his stomach, and stares up at the ceiling through the pressing darkness in the room.

He tossed and turned for another half an hour before finally sighing and rolling over to slide his phone from the bedside table.

You up?

No.

Yes you are or you wouldn't have responded.

I'm sleep texting, now go to bed.

I don't think sleep texting is a thing.

Somebody once murdered someone while sleep walking.

Is that a threat?

Maybe, now go to bed.

I am in bed.

Then why are you texting me?

I can't sleep.

How come?

I just can't, which is weird because I always sleep really well the first night back home.

Home or home home?

Uh . . . what?

Like, your place or your parents' place?

Oh, my parents'. I don't have my own place.

How come?

I don't see the need to. I'm not home much anyway.

Why?

Work and stuff.

Is that why you can't sleep? Work 'and stuff'?

No.

What's wrong? Are you sick?

No.

Are you okay?

Now you care?

No, I'm just curious.

Many a cat have been killed that way.

Jesus, you don't stop.

Stop what?

Jesus won't ever stop.

See!? The jokes.

Should I?

No.

Then why did you bother to point it out?

I don't know, I just chose to.

You're a weird person, Sadie. You're making me nervous.

Says the guy texting me at . . . What the fuck, three-forty?! GO TO SLEEP.

Do you want to know something about me?

Like . . . something you don't already know?

I mean . . . something a lot of people don't know.

Uh . . . okay . . . now I'm nervous. Who did you kill?

What? Nobody!

Okay, just checking. Fire away.

You do realize the word 'fire' is in 'gunfire' right?

Yes?

So it kind of sounds like you're still not convinced that I'm not a mass murderer.

Oh. Well, you tell me, am I convinced?

Yes?

Wrong, carry on.

You must be one real dumb person, Sadie, if you're texting someone who you think is a mass murderer.

You could be a suicide bomber.

Then why am I still here?

Good point.

Suicide isn't the answer anyway.

You say that as though you have experience.

Not exactly, just how my mind works.

Are you sure?

I don't like lying Sadie so sometimes I just fudge the truth a bit and step around the question so let's just leave it okay? No, I've never been hospitalized for trying to take myself.

Okay. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to upset you. Again. And I was just kidding.

Yeah well that's something a person shouldn't get to joke about, alright?

Do you want to know something about me or not?

Yes.

I don't talk a lot.

Could have fooled me.

Because I have a lisp. It isn't the worst in the world but it's definitely there.

So what? I couldn't say the letter 'r' until I was eight years old.

I have a learning disability. I only passed high school eight months ago.

Why are you telling me this?

I don't think a college would accept me and I don't want to go to college anymore.

Why not?

I'm not smart and so I chose a career that didn't require any intelligence whatsoever.

Which is?

I'm turning twenty-one on June 15th. I have a twin brother and I have an older brother as well.

I have a brother. He's older than me.

When I was sixteen I almost died.

How?

I have a scar on my left bicep and a scar at the right side of my jaw.

From what?

I have social anxiety but I have to be in front of people all the time for my job.

What is your job?

Westley does the talking and I do all the other stuff.

But what's your job?

I don't trust people and it stems from a lot of different areas.

Like what?

I like talking to you.

I like talking to you too?

I've never told a girl that I loved her besides the girl I proposed to. I was eighteen.

How did you have the money for a ring?

I never know who likes me for me or for what I have.

Wait, you're saying your dick isn't small?

I'm five foot eleven and a half.

I'm five six.

My favorite color is red but I also like blue.

I like pink and red.

I'm a Hufflepuff.

I'm a Gryffindor.

My favorite number is twenty-seven.

Mine's nineteen.

I don't like cake, I can't drink milk, and I love chocolate.

I do, I can, who doesn't?

I'm having a lot of fun right now but I'm freaking out.

Why are you freaking out?

I have some issues that nobody but my brothers know about.

Anxiety?

Really bad anxiety.

What's triggering it right now?

This.

This?

Me telling you all this.

Then don't.

Because I don't tell anybody this stuff. 

 And you don't have to.

I thought you wouldn't text me anymore if you didn't know stuff about me. You seem really . . . cautious.

I appreciate it but don't make yourself sick over it.

I wanted to tell you things.

I'm glad :) but it's okay to do that slowly.

Sadie?

Yes?

Can I call you Muffin?

No but that hasn't stopped you before.

Goodnight, Muffin.

Goodnight, Harry.