The Girl Inside My Head
“Good morning, deranged maniac~!”
... Always so damn early. Yuki Kazama's voice pierced the tomb of blankets erected high over Makoto's head, through layers of cotton in and outside the slumbering boy's ears.
No reaction. Kazama squinted, translucent arms folded - if her guilt tripping was having any effect, it sure didn't show.
"Up! Up, up, up, killer!"
"Nngh..." Makoto mumbled something that even he couldn't guess at, as though testing if he had vocal cords any more... And flumped over, face buried deeper into one of his many pillows. Early orange sunlight seeped in through blinds across his room, giving tepid color to the explosive palette of cosmetics, clothes and sleep aids it had become in the past few years.
"Come ONNNNN...! 2, 4, 6, 7, you're not gonna go to heaven!"
Evil. There was no other word for it, the sensation of waking up early - pure evil. Slimy teeth, gummy eyes, a weight pressed down on each and every limb and thought and movement, a full bladder, morning breath, and worst of all, the knowledge that he could've been sleeping right now. A pathetic little whine escaped him just at the reminder of it all.
Then again, maybe it was just karma... A yawn lifted his head slightly, and eventually the rest of his aching body followed it upwards. Makoto rose to a sit, rubbing an eye as Kazama's cheery, sadistic laughter echoed around the walls of his room. As much as he wanted to ignore her, Kazama clearly had the upper hand here.
He'd tested just how long her spectral lungs could scream without needing air, and didn't want a repeat performance. Worst alarm clock ever.
"'m up..."
It was 6 A.M., and Makoto had two hours to get ready.
Not that he wanted to. But so long as he was being 'haunted,' Kazama would never let him sleep a minute past sunrise - if he was going to have this kind of free time forced on him, he might as well spend it on something easy. Fortunately, with his unwilling companion's help, the routine of accessories, clothes and feminine touches had become the simplest part of waking up: "God, absolutely not, ditch the choker. A French? You crazy? I cannot believe I ever thought you were cute in the first place!"
"Mhm... Mmm... 'kay..." He made noncommittal, affirmative sounds while dolling himself according to strict marching orders. At least this wasn't so bad... The reflection in the mirror slowly pulled itself together into a facsimile of cuteness. If clothes were a social signal, then Makoto's were a blaring neon sign - 'WILL SUGAR BABY FOR CASH.'
Not that anyone seemed to actually notice.
His hands might have been moving but as usual Makoto was thinking as little as possible, like he could lull himself into sleep-preparing with enough effort.
"Guh... Good enough..." Despite Kazama's screeching protests, Makoto scooped up his bag and slouched out into an empty kitchen, ghostly temper-tantrum following behind. A note on the fridge - 'dinner on counter.' Dull blue eyes driiiiifted over... A bag of chips and a banana.
"Nice..."
Better than most days, really. If he wasn't given explicit instruction to eat, Makoto just went to bed hungry. You could go a whole month without food, but a lack of sleep would kill you in just a week! Not that it stopped Kazama from bitching about it, but what did she know? Gluttony girls were all the same, no respect for a good nap. You couldn't feel hungry while sleeping, he'd perfected that technique through honed experience. It was so annoying... And then there were all those times she made him go get ice cream and he tried to dribble some on his thighs to look appealing, but then it just dribbled down and melted in his socks 'cuz he was too tired to wipe it off before it ran down his leg and he had to walk home like that and...
His face scrunched up, frozen in place in the middle of the kitchen. What was he thinking about again? Something about Kazama...? But she was looking away with pointed disinterest, so that couldn't be it...
Thin fingers rose and rubbed at Makoto's eyes - though not hard enough to rub away the makeup plastered over his dark circles. The front door swung open, cool morning air nearly snapping the boy out of his early-morning fugue state as he shuffled out and stared back over his shoulder.
"Alright... 'm off..." Maybe he could catch a few winks on the train to school...?
A languid hand stretched out, the light around his dingy little suburban paradise bending suddenly -
Belphegor, ye who slumber fitfully yet fully, pull thy starry blanket over this place! Bring it to thy bosom and rest it between the gap of what is and what may be! I bind thee, I command thee, I release thee!
... Ah, who was he kidding? He'd just sleep through class instead.
The hand dropped, and yawning, Makoto stumbled off towards school.