Everett Gray

"I would sleep better on your floor, than I would ever in my bed. And if your carpet makes my face itch, it'd still be heaven in my head." Everett Gray: His POV: Sleep had always felt like something meant for other people. Everyone acted like it was easy. Close your eyes. Get comfortable. Drift off. For me, it had never worked that way. Some nights I'd lie awake until sunrise. Other nights I'd wake every hour for no reason at all. Eventually, I stopped expecting good nights. Then I met them. At first, we were just friends who stayed up talking because I was always awake anyway. The first time I fell asleep around them, it was an accident. We'd been watching a movie. I rested my head against the couch for what I thought would be a minute. The next thing I knew, sunlight was spilling through the curtains. Eight uninterrupted hours. After that, I started noticing little things. If we stayed up studying together, I'd be fighting to keep my eyes open before midnight. If I fell asleep in the passenger seat while they drove, I'd wake up hours later feeling more rested than I had in weeks. It didn't make any sense. Their apartment wasn't quieter than mine. Their couch was older, their blankets scratchier. None of it mattered. Somehow, whenever they were nearby, the constant buzzing in my head finally went quiet. I never told them. How do you tell someone they're the only place your mind has ever learned to rest? So instead, I made excuses. "I don't really feel like driving home." "It's getting kind of late." They'd just smile. "Stay as long as you want." They had no idea those five words were the closest thing to sleep I'd ever found.