It was really quite dark in the room, despite the little pool of light that the nightlight shining in from the bathroom provided. Davy laid underneath four different blankets, tossing and turning in an attempt to find a comfortable position to sleep in. It was very late and usually Davy slept like a rock. But recently, he had found that he was having trouble falling asleep and staying asleep. At first, Davy hadn't understood why and had passed it off as nothing, after all it could have been simple insomnia or stress, but after awhile Davy realized what it was that was causing his sleep troubles. It was that creepy doll that the guys and himself had lying around the house, Mr. Schneider. Davy had come to this realization after waking up from a fitful sleep in the middle of the night to find that Mr. Schneider had somehow climbed out of his usual chair and had situated himself right outside of Davy's door. Although he had originally passed it off as one of the guys having a laugh or something, but every night now, if Davy woke up, he'd see Mr. Schneider leaning against the door frame, even if he shut the door before going to bed.
The implications of this scared Davy to death. He couldn't sleep and without sleep he was practically useless to his bandmates. Davy didn't want to be useless to his friends, especially because any day an important gig could come around and if Davy couldn't get his sleep he would be unable to perform, which would thereupon reflect on that of his groupmates. Honestly, Davy was just tired. And all he wanted to do was sleep but he couldn't sleep because he constantly felt Mr. Schneider's eyes on him at night. And the worst part was that Peter didn't seem to notice anything. At night, Davy's fellow bandmate was as unconscious as a rock when he slept in the bed across from Davy's. Davy felt like he was going crazy. Usually, it was Peter who had nightmares or was frightened by the dark, not Davy.
So it wasn't really a surprise when one night, Davy threw off his covers and stormed over to the doorway where Mr. Schneider stood (or, more exactly, leaned). He grabbed the dummy's arm with both hands and began yanking the dummy towards the nearest closet. Davy wasn't going to take any more of this. He'd get a good nights sleep even if it killed him. Just as he neared the closet door, Davy heard a voice behind him.
"Hey, what're you doing with Mr. Schneider, Davy?" asked Micky, eyes nearly closed. He was sipping at a glass of water. Davy leaned Mr. Schneider against the wall next to the door to the closet.
"Well, ya see, I…," Davy began, grasping for words. His hands began to sweat a little. If he told Micky the truth, there was no way he would believe him. If anything, Micky would be likely to make fun of him. But then again, Davy didn't want to lie to Micky. Micky swiped at his eyes with the back of his hand to wipe away the sleep.
"Are you putting Mr. Schneider into the closet?" Micky questioned, downing the last of the water in the glass.
"Yes, umm, I am, but you see-," Davy started but Micky interrupted with, "Why on earth would you do that?" Davy glanced at the dummy that was leaned against the wall and then back to his friend.
"Well, I'm…," Davy started, his voice getting quiet, "He's been watching me sleep and… well I'm afraid I suppose." Micky stared at Davy for the longest time with an unreadable expression. Then he broke out into a grin.
"Aw man Davy, how can you be afraid of Mr. Schneider?" he chuckled, wandering over to the kitchen table to put his cup down.
"He keeps on walking about at night and… and he watches me sleep," Davy explained, feeling sheepish. Even though Davy was sure in his conclusion that Mr. Schneider was moving around at night, he still clung to the hope that maybe it was one of the fellows playing a bad joke on him. Saying aloud his worst fear, well it just sounded silly even to Davy. It made him reconsider his conclusion, that perhaps he was too tired to think properly.
"Oh, Davy, Mr. Schneider's just a dummy," Micky pointed out, poking one of Mr. Schneider's arm for emphasis.
"I know that Mick but then how do you explain him getting from his usual seat to being propped up against the doorframe to my room?" Davy demanded. Micky frowned slightly, hearing the edge to his friend's voice. All of them had noticed Davy's sleep problem. He'd been irritable and groggy and yesterday he had even fallen asleep at the breakfast table, right into his cereal.
"Dunno man," Micky shrugged after a moment, not sure how to proceed with the conversation. He didn't want to upset Davy or anything, but it was a ridiculous notion. Mr. Schneider getting up and walking around… that was just crazy.
"Are you suggesting you aren't the one moving him about then?" prompted Davy, placing his hands on his hips.
"Mm, I mean, like, no why would I move him around, I need sleep," replied Micky, pulling a confused face in an attempt to lighten the mood. It did not appear to be working though. Just then, Peter appeared at the doorframe of Davy and his shared bedroom.
"Hey guys, is everything alright?" he asked, his brow creased with a frown.
"Davy's putting Mr. Schneider into the closet cos he's apparently been walking around by his own," Micky answered. Peter raised a questioning eyebrow in Davy's direction. All of them had noticed Davy's sleep troubles, but Peter never would have guessed Mr. Schneider being the causation of it all. Sure, Peter had always found him a bit creepy, but Mr. Schneider was just a wooden dummy.
"Look, guys, it's nothing, forget I said anything," Davy mumbled, wanting nothing more than to have this behind him already.
"Hey what are y'all up for? It's like one in the morning," Mike suddenly boomed, leaning over the staircase railing, giving each of them disapproving looks seen even in the gloom.
"Davy's putting Mr. Schneider into the closet cos he's apparently been walking around by his own," Micky repeated.
"Shut up Mick," Davy snapped, irritated that Micky would tell Mike that. Mike would surely laugh at that notion. Out of all of them, Michael was the most rational, therefore he would not even think to believe Davy's worst nightmare. Mike, Micky, and Peter were all a bit taken aback by Davy's little outburst. It was very uncharacteristic for Davy to lash out like that, even taking into account his recent depletion of rest.
"There isn't anything to be upset about Davy," Peter reassured his friend. Davy nodded, running a hand through his hair, apologizing, "Yeah, I know, sorry Micky."
"Now, Davy, you tell me why you're putting Mr. Schneider into the closet," Mike began, and added after seeing Davy's pained expression, "And don' you worry about it sounding silly, the guys and me won't laugh at you one bit, we promise, don't we fellas?" Both Peter and Micky nodded in agreement, saying yes and yea several times to make sure the point was made. Davy looked down at his feet for a moment.
"Well… you all have probably noticed my trouble sleeping. And… and see I figured out it was Mr. Schneider keeping me up. I can't fall asleep with his… his eyes on me see, and well… I thought if maybe I put him in the closet he wouldn't be able to get up and watch me sleep," Davy finally explained, quietly and slowly, as if he were explaining to his mother how he had broken her favorite lamp. Peter couldn't help but worry. It was a very odd thing to believe, but at the same time, Peter was more worried that Davy was right. If he was right, then that meant something terrifying, Peter knew that much.
"Okay… okay Davy. See, none of us laughed. Now… now well I guess if you think it's gonna help you get some shut eye, you can go on right ahead putting Mr. Schneider into the closet and we'll all get back into bed and then you can get some rest and all that," said Mike, his hands randomly gesturing about himself. Davy nodded and picked up Mr. Schneider from where he was leaned, opening the closet door and then giving the dummy a little shove. It fell into the closet with a loud thunk. Micky kicked the closet closed for Davy, to show him that he didn't have to be embarrassed by anything, and gave him a sympathetic pat on the back.
"Let's all try to get some sleep now," Peter suggested. Davy nodded mutely and shuffled back into his bedroom. One last time, Peter, Micky, and Mike exchanged worried glances. None of them were entirely sure of how to handle this. In one scenario, Davy was just having trouble sleeping and was projecting his fears upon the dummy. But in another scenario, Mr. Schneider really was getting up at night and watching Davy. For Mike and Micky, the first option seemed the most likely but for Peter… well Peter could fathom a scenario where Mr. Schneider was coming to life. It was quite terrifying and made the bassist shiver, but he could still imagine it. As Micky and Mike headed upstairs, back to their bedroom, Peter cracked opened the closet door. Mr. Schneider lay on his back, lifeless eyes staring at the closet ceiling. Peter regarded the dummy for a moment before securely shutting the closet door and heading back into the bedroom. Davy was sprawled on his bed, already snoring. Peter shut and locked the bedroom door before going over to Davy and tucking him into bed.
"Micky, you better get out here and help me carry these bags in!" Mike shouted from the front stoop. Four bags was quite a lot for a regular run to the store, but in this case Mike had gone out of desperation. That morning had resulted in stale toast and water for breakfast since someone had forgotten to do their share of grocery runs. That someone was namely Micky Dolenz.
"I'm coming, I'm coming, hold your horses," Micky grumbled, stomping over to the front door and squeezing past Mike as he entered the house with two brown paper bags in the crook of each arm. Peter was sat at the breakfast table, running a hand through his hair and stealing glances at the door to his and Davy's bedroom.
"Hey Peter," Mike said, placing the bags onto the counter. Micky was stomping his way over to the table as well, with two bags of his own.
"Hey Mike," Peter answered. Micky began unpacking the grocery bags and putting away the items they contained. As Mike put away a few canned goods, he asked, "What's wrong Pete?" Peter rubbed the back of his neck.
"I don't think Davy's gotten out of bed yet today is all," Peter explained. Micky stroked his chin, mocking someone stroking a beard.
"By jove Peter, I think you've cracked the case," he joked, before putting the last of his portion of the groceries away.
"I'm being serious," Peter insisted.
"Well, Pete, man, he hasn't been sleeping a lot these past couple of days, so maybe he's finally getting caught up," pointed out Mike. This was true, in fact it made a lot of sense, but there was something that was nagging Peter. A feeling tugging at the back of his mind. It was telling Peter that something wasn't all together right. But he didn't want to bother Micky or Mike, especially considering neither of them seemed to be worried about Davy, so he just sighed, "That makes sense." Micky gave Peter a pat on the back.
"Don't sweat it man, Davy'll be alright," he assured him, "He'll be up and around flirting like there was no tomorrow in no time, just like he always is." Peter nodded, but he didn't feel very reassured. A couple of hours passed and Peter found himself sitting on one of the steps to the alcove, strumming his bass in sync with Mike's little tune. The two of them were waiting for Micky to find his drumsticks, which for some reason he had lost the night before.
"Found them! Sorry, found them!" Micky called out from upstairs. He came racing down, nearly tripping over his own feet, and stumbled to a halt before making his way to his drumset.
"Where'd ya find them?" Peter asked out of curiosity.
"Under my bed," Micky shrugged. Mike rolled his eyes, not even wanting to know how Micky's drumsticks had made their way underneath his bed upstairs. Despite no one asking, Micky commented, "They musta found a pair of dust bunnies that caught their eye." He winked and waggled his eyebrows.
"Okay, okay, let's practice," said Mike, with a roll of his eyes. Micky nodded, sitting down and giving a little rat-a-tat.
"Hey, wait you guys, what about Davy?" questioned Peter, leaning his guitar up against the wall next to him and standing.
"I thought we'd just get some practice in and let him sleep," Mike replied. Peter rubbed his cheek. It was late afternoon, nearly evening, and still Davy hadn't woken up, or at the very least he hadn't left the bedroom yet.
"I think I'm going to go check on him, okay? I'm really worried about him," Peter announced.
"Aw c'mon Peter, let the little man sleep," said Micky. Mike waved a hand at Micky, saying, "I'll come check on him with ya, and you'll see that there ain't no reason to worry about Davy." Peter nodded, rubbing at the underneath of his chin as he and Mike made their way over to the bedroom door, followed after a moment by Micky. Peter went to knock on the door, but Mike caught his hand before he could make any noise. Mike put a finger to his lips and then cautiously creaked open the door, wide enough so that all three of them could see into the room of course. The curtain was closed but the room was always lit up during the daytime. Davy's one leg was hanging over the edge of the bed and he was gently snoring.
"See Peter, nothing to worry about. Davy's just exhausted," Mike remarked, gesturing towards Davy's sleeping form.
"Yeah, I mean, this is the same guy who fell asleep in his cereal like two days ago," added Micky, his voice hushed so as to not wake Davy.
"Okay, I guess I was worried for nothing," Peter sighed, shutting the door closed. Mike and Micky went back to the alcove, ready to practice, and Peter followed them. During practice, Peter let his mind wander. Even though he'd seen Davy sleeping and understood that he must be exhausted, Peter still couldn't seem to shake the feeling that something wasn't quite right. None of them were morning people, but out of all of them Davy was always up in the mornings. Sometimes, he was even up before Mike was, and that was something to be proud of considering how early Michael got up. Or maybe Peter was worried for nothing like Mike had said. It was a possibility, after all it wasn't like Peter knew everything.