drabble: When birds chirp in the dark, Andriy Shevchenko, G
Birds are chirping in the dark and Andriy is awake.
When birds chirp in the dark
Andriy sits on his sofa until he hears birds chirping in the dark. Every half hour, he looks at the clock, and every hour he tells himself he should go to sleep because he has practice in the morning, but he ignores it all and just simply sits there. He doesn't know why he's just sitting there, staying awake, not sleeping. But he knows he shouldn't go to sleep. He doesn't know how to explain the feeling, but he just can't. He does know, however, that something is going to happen. Or at least he knows that if he goes to sleep, he'll miss something. Andriy doesn't want to miss anything. So here he is, legs curled up, chin digging into his knees, arms around his legs because he doesn't want to get up. He is cold despite the ridiculously hot weather. He doesn't realize this.
How he stays awake baffles him. All day, he's been exhausted, couldn't wait until come home. But when he laid in bed, he didn't fall asleep. He couldn't.
Andriy is staring at one of Jordan's toys on the carpet. He's not looking at it any more, doesn't see the smile of the doll's face, doesn't see the pants on its head and its backwards shirt. No, Andriy has been staring at it far too long to see anything. He is not blinking any more. His eyes are dry, and his face doesn't move. He doesn't move. The last time Andriy moved for something other than breathing happened when he first looked at the toy. (His lips curled upwards, remembering Kristen scolding Jordan for not dressing him properly. Jordan looked at Kristen and smiled, and Kristen's frown disappeared and told her "darling to come over here and give his mummy a hug.")
Andriy blinks. His eyes stay open for another two and a half minutes.
And he does this over and over and over, waiting.
He doesn't want to miss anything.
(Andriy sits there and blinks every two and a half minutes until he hears his alarm go off upstairs.)
When birds chirp in the dark
Andriy sits on his sofa until he hears birds chirping in the dark. Every half hour, he looks at the clock, and every hour he tells himself he should go to sleep because he has practice in the morning, but he ignores it all and just simply sits there. He doesn't know why he's just sitting there, staying awake, not sleeping. But he knows he shouldn't go to sleep. He doesn't know how to explain the feeling, but he just can't. He does know, however, that something is going to happen. Or at least he knows that if he goes to sleep, he'll miss something. Andriy doesn't want to miss anything. So here he is, legs curled up, chin digging into his knees, arms around his legs because he doesn't want to get up. He is cold despite the ridiculously hot weather. He doesn't realize this.
How he stays awake baffles him. All day, he's been exhausted, couldn't wait until come home. But when he laid in bed, he didn't fall asleep. He couldn't.
Andriy is staring at one of Jordan's toys on the carpet. He's not looking at it any more, doesn't see the smile of the doll's face, doesn't see the pants on its head and its backwards shirt. No, Andriy has been staring at it far too long to see anything. He is not blinking any more. His eyes are dry, and his face doesn't move. He doesn't move. The last time Andriy moved for something other than breathing happened when he first looked at the toy. (His lips curled upwards, remembering Kristen scolding Jordan for not dressing him properly. Jordan looked at Kristen and smiled, and Kristen's frown disappeared and told her "darling to come over here and give his mummy a hug.")
Andriy blinks. His eyes stay open for another two and a half minutes.
And he does this over and over and over, waiting.
He doesn't want to miss anything.
(Andriy sits there and blinks every two and a half minutes until he hears his alarm go off upstairs.)