Sneaking in isn't as easy as the movies make it appear.

"Push harder!" the man whispered.

"I can't!"

The window pane dug into my ribcage as I lay stuck halfway through the window. The man had grabbed hold of my legs, trying to jostle me through. Just one more push. Because my lungs couldn't take another beating.

He pushed me, and I fell to the carpet floor.

Ow.

My friend wriggled himself inside no problem. His color clashed against my bright orange walls, and the rest of my room for that matter. Almost like a black hole.

"Your room looks like Skittles."

"Your room is a casket."

He rolled his eyes back at me.

The smell of melting sour candy permeated through the colorful jungle of trash that was my room. My unfinished homework was scattered across the bed covers, paired with eraser bits everywhere. I plopped onto bed.

The man crossed his arms.

"You want me to sit on that?"

"Before we do that, what should I call you?"

He blinked.

"W-what?"

"Your name. What is it? Your gravestone is kinda messy so I never caught it."

He'd be sweating if his glands were working. He darted his gaze across the bed as he came to. His hands shivered as he picked up a worksheet.

"How's about that Spanish, huh-"

"¿Cómo te llamas?" I said beaming.

You're not dodging this question.

His gaze fell. So did his shoulders and posture as he held the paper in both hands. His arms fell to his sides. Maybe I shouldn't have asked.

He exhaled as he rubbed the bridge of his nose.

"Look…" he said quietly, "I'm not comfortable with telling you that, okay? It's nothing personal just…"

His words faded. I scooted back and hooked my fingers again.

"Oh. Sorry."

"Um… but why don't we come up with a name?"

I lifted my head. Come up with a name? I looked around my room for answers, but if you knew me, that was hopeless. My dog's name when I was ten was John. Can you guess what I named my hamster a few years later?

"John…?" I smiled nervously. He raised an eyebrow.

That's the best I could've done.

As the night flew by, and the sky became its darkest, me and 'John' fell deep into our studies. Mine anyway. He probably finished Spanish class like, thirty years ago. But it would take thirty years longer for me to get to any type of conversational fluency.

But finishing my Spanish homework was good enough for now. John pointed at the last question. Multiple choice.

"Which one means apple?" he said quietly.

My eyelids were heavy, and so became my entire body. I yawned. The answers were clear as day on the paper, but they slurred in my head.

"The um… mañana."

John circled option B.

"Manzana."

"I knew that," I said as I yawned again.

John set the paper and pencil down behind him. Homework time was over. His coat, still patchy from the casket, seemed so comfortable now, that I wanted to sleep on it.

John stood up and stretched.

"Well, that's my sign to go. You did good. And you said you needed help."

"Don't go. I have so many things… I wanna do."

"Nah. It's risky just being here. I can’t stay the night too."

I rubbed my eyes as he stood there. He was right. No matter how much my heart pleaded, and how much I begged for him to stay, it wasn't possible.

My stomach churned. Would I have the time to see him tomorrow? Did I need to buy him something again? If he stayed the night, would he stay tomorrow?

John cocked his head, trying to make eye contact.

"Why don't you invite a friend over tomorrow. Your mom won't be scared of them."

"I did. And my mom would be terrified if she ever saw you."

John scratched his head. I'll admit, I laid it on heavy. My body was an energy-deficient blob ready to shut down at any point, and in the back of my head, I knew what we were supposed to do. I swiped the worksheets off of the bed, letting them fly to the floor.

"Goodnight, John."

He came closer, crackling about as he did. He scruffied my hair.

"Goodnight, kid."

My covers were warm as they slipped over me, with my head sinking into the pillow, drowning in its cotton hills. The lights cut out, and as the ceiling merged with the black sky outside, John stepped in front of the window. Staring back at me.

I closed my eyes.

And they opened. The sun had replaced the stars with its orange morning glow. No dream that night. No interruptions.

And no John. Us was just me once again.