Prompt:
Someone rings your doorbell at 2:00 AM. They begin to loudly whisper your name and knock frantically.
Sleeping was great. I loved sleeping. It was probably my favorite hobby, other than eating and watching various TV shows and movies on Netflix. Of course, tonight, after I hadn't slept soundly for weeks, I had to be disturbed in my lovely dreamlands. (I was currently eating some waffles drizzled in heavy, luscious syrup and topped with chunks of creamy butter.)
Buzz... Buzz... Buzz... I heard a weird, piercing sort of noise while I was sleeping, my fork bending near the plate, clinking against it as I picked up another piece of deliciously fluffy waffle and plopped it into my mouth. Buzz... Again, the noise, but more insistent this time. It grew to be too much, and I ended up blinking my eyes open, utterly confused on why there had been strange noises coming from my pile of waffles.
What on earth? I thought blearily, wondering what had woken me up so suddenly. Hearing a buzzing noise again, I realized that the doorbell had woken me up. Groaning and muttering, I nearly went back to sleep, not wanting to be bothered by random people at my front door. They were probably drunk anyways.
Closing my eyes, I had nearly fallen into the comforting arms of sleep when I heard my name being whispered loudly. Now they were knocking, hoarsely saying, "Sarah, Sarah! Wake up, Sarah!"
Muttering some choice curse words to myself, I heaved my body up and out of my bed, vaguely recognizing the voice. Of course, I was feeling pretty tired right there and then, so I wasn't really in the mood for being woken up in the early hours of the day.
Wandering over to my door, I peered through the little spying hole (I had never bothered to learn the technical name for it), startled to see someone I recognized. Well, I would've been more surprised to see a stranger at my door when it was barely morning, especially considering he knew my name, but still, it was unexpected to just see anyone at my apartment this early, no matter who it was. Then again, considering the person now knocking and looking very distressed, I really shouldn't have been surprised at all.
"Liam," I sighed, rubbing the sleep from my face as I opened the door, "what on earth do you want?"
My best friend was looking a bit disgruntled, although he didn't look nearly as bad as I felt right now, only half-awake and with the other part of me still caught up in food fantasies, munching on some more waffles, or maybe even pancakes.
"I'm hungry," he replied brightly, looking a lot happier to see me now that I had actually answered the door. "You take a long time to open up, Sarah. I was standing here for at least ten minutes until you finally got here."
"I was sleeping, Liam. And why are you here at two in the morning if you're hungry? Make yourself your own food," I replied grumpily, glaring at him through narrowed eyes.
"Well, I was too lazy to make my own food. So I figured I could just come over here," Liam responded casually, as if it was the most normal thing in the world to walk over to your friend's place to ask for food randomly at two in the morning.
Sighing, I opened the door some more to allow him to walk in. He strolled in, right at home, considering he was here more often than not during the day. Collapsing onto my couch, he looked oddly awake and hyper, despite being hungry, or so he said. Sometimes, I sort of suspected that he just liked to bother me, which was why he was constantly pulling crap like this, showing up in my apartment while I slept. This was actually normal for Liam, so I wandered into my kitchen, grabbing a box of Poptarts and throwing it at the kid.
"Thanks," Liam said cheerfully, opening it and devouring the first Poptart in a matter of seconds. He was really the only person I knew who could rival me in terms of eating, although I could give him a run for his money if I was hungry enough.
"Now, tell me again, why couldn't you have just eaten something at your own place?" I groaned, still not fully awake.
"You have better flavors," Liam shrugged, grinning at me crookedly with large brown eyes.
Sighing, I picked at my flannel pajama pants, wondering why the hell I would bother with such an idiot for a best friend. Then I realized that we complemented each other rather nicely, considering the circumstances. I was a negative sort of person, pessimistic and generally a grumpy and hateful person. Liam, on the other hand, was like a new puppy, always cheerful and upbeat, obnoxiously happy-go-lucky, and constantly following you around, trailing after you with a wagging tail.
"Are you enjoying the cookies and cream?" I asked, referring to the deliciously flavored Poptart. He nodded in response, still lost in the chocolatey and creamy goodness.
After he was done munching away to his heart's content, I had sort of dozed off. Of course, Liam was still wide awake, which was weird, because he slept a whole lot less than me, but he always managed to be a lot more restless than me. I just liked sleeping, but I was pretty sure that Liam ran on energy drinks rather than blood because he was always so hyper, or maybe he was just an insomniac or nocturnal or something and slept during the day rather than night.
"Hey, can I crash on your couch tonight?" Liam asked, still smiling like an idiot, probably on a sugar high or something from the now-empty box of Poptarts on the floor.
"Sure, sure," I replied graciously, really too tired to care. Shuffling over to my room again, I curled up in my blankets and immediately fell asleep again, but not before I heard a muffled "Thank you," from the other room. Grumbling, I dozed off to the sound of crumbling foil as Liam rooted through my Poptarts stash in the kitchen.
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