The bedroom door creaks open. Halle jumps, trying to yank the covers over themselves and drop their phone at the same time.
Stellan walks in, tosses half a chocolate bar onto their bed and leaves.
Okay.
Never mind why their brother's also awake at one in the morning when they both have classes the next day. They pick up the chocolate bar (white chocolate, sickenly sweet as expected of Stellan) and break off a square to eat while reading. Between nibbles, they click once more into the "archive" page of Leon's Tumblr and continue onto his next piece of writing.
Unlike both themself and Stellan, writer's block doesn't seem to be something Leon struggles with. He seems to have published a work nearly every day, each one at least a thousand words in length, and have kept the habit up for what looks like six months. An hour of uninterrupted scrolling doesn't even seem to have scratched the surface of his many short stories. Halle rubs their eyes, grabs a piece of tissue to wipe the melted chocolate off their fingers and clicks into the next story.
Sure, quality over quantity, or whatever it is people say about art, but somehow he's managed to make use of both. Every piece, regardless of genre, is captivating. Maybe it's because they're not very long, or because imagining Leon himself narrating the works makes them not want to stop reading, or maybe it's just that he's good at writing, but whatever the reason Halle just can't keep themselves from devouring one story after another. Another square of chocolate is polished off, their eyes grow dry and their hand cramped from scrolling, yet they just can't tear their eyes away.
Tragic tales pass, lusty love stories fly by, and Halle is hopelessly glued to the screen through all of them. The dry, practically vulgar wit Leon displays in one story turns into purple prose in another, then goes back to cracking dark jokes in yet another. Returning to the "archive" page and moving on to what he wrote last December, they can't help thinking, I've never met a writer as versatile as him.
The next time they look at the time at the top of their screen, it reads 2:42 a.m.. The words on the screen, black against the pastel-yellow background of Leon's page, are burning into their vision. They blink hard and click on the next story. Just one more, and they'll go to sleep.
Then they're hanging upside-down on their bed, their phone as well as the half-eaten chocolate bar on the floor and the blanket covering exactly none of their body. Their phone alarm pounds into their ears. With a groan, Halle sits up, stretching in an attempt to alleviate the ache in their back. They save the chocolate bar first, then their phone, which has yet to shut up. "Okay, okay," they mumble, "'m up. Quiet down."
The phone, having no understanding of the English language, does not quiet down. With a yawn, they switch the alarm off themself and go get dressed.
To their mild relief, Stellan looks about as much of a mess as they do, hiding his bloodshot eyes and the faint shadows beneath them with his obscenely-large mug of coffee. Apart from said mug of coffee, the table has nothing else on it. Halle glances at him. "Where's Dad?"
He shrugs.
With the usual maker of breakfast gone (to be fair, it's not the first time that's happened), Halle boils a saucepan of water and drops in an egg once it begins to simmer. While it boils, they grab another egg from the fridge and get to work frying them. Both are done within ten minutes, and they carry the finished products towards the dining table.
Stellan looks up after taking another lengthy sip of coffee and sets the mug down. Thanks.
The teenager in their brain takes over the inner gourmand who keeps insisting that they haven't salted and peppered the eggs properly, the underside is burnt and why didn't you baste it, oil-basting eggs is the only way they should be made, you barbarian, and it's gone in a matter of minutes. Their brother takes a bit longer, peeling his soft-boiled egg and eating slowly so he doesn't choke on it. He looks at his watch, ignoring how his hair falls into his eyes, before glancing back up at them and signing with yolk-tipped fingers, you should probably get going.
School is the last place Halle wants to be right now, with a back that still throbs with pain and eyes so dry they might as well be the Sahara Desert, but "getting less than four hours of sleep because they stayed up reading stuff on Tumblr" is hardly a reason for them to stay home. They yawn again. Their sleep schedule really needs fixing.
…
Halle's day only promises to get more tiring when they show up in their classroom to see Raivis and Mariam panicking, half-hidden behind a massive stack of their reading material for English Literature. Raivis looks up while they put their bag down at their desk, asking, "what did you memorise?"
"What?"
"What quotes?" He elaborates. "You know, for the essay test today?"
"The what?"
"The essay test!" He yanks a copy of The Complete Collected Poetry of Maya Angelou out from the middle of the stack. "You'd think Cortez would have the mercy to wait at least a month after Hell week to give us another test, but noooo, here we are, memorising random stuff from everything we've learnt since September because she thought it'd be fun to make us suffer!"
They sputter. "When did she announce the test?"
"Like, last week. But of course none of us decided to prepare until today." Mariam reaches for another piece of lined paper. "I think she's gonna leave the room while we do our essays like she does all the time, though, so I'm making a cheat sheet just in case."
Good idea. Halle picks up the first book off the stack — Little Women — and a few pieces of lined paper, then rummages around in their bag for a pen. "Are you gonna make one too, Raivis?"
"Uh-huh." He tilts his head towards the desk in front of him, where Erika appears to be doodling on her history notebook. "Eri isn't, though. She says if she fails, she fails, but given that she started studying yesterday I don't think she will. I made her promise not to snitch on us."
"A student with morals?" Mariam giggles. "I didn't know those still existed."
The notable quotes from Little Women's first few chapters are copied soon enough, so they swap books with Raivis to work on the poems. Now rushing to scribble down examples of sensory imagery from one of the many short stories they learnt, Mariam lets out an audible groan. Erika glances back at the three of them and raises a judgemental eyebrow. Raivis raises a rude hand gesture her way.
"She's really shoving the fact that she has her life together in our faces, huh?" Halle bends down to look for another pen.
Raivis sighs, "Eri really is, like, the only one left in the grade who has a conscience. Speaking of which, mine is screaming at me."
Another jolt of pain shoots through them. "And so is my back," they grit, "but we all have to ignore helpful warnings from time to time."
"You two are awful."
"The absolute worst," Halle agrees. They can feel their eyes glazing over. With luck, and maybe some coffee from the vending machine, they should be able to make it through the day without drifting off.
…
Once classes are over and they're just about ready to lie down on the floor and pass out, Halle all but crawls out of campus and onto the bus. Their bed sounds lovely.
It takes two stations for them to realise something's off. They realise they're on the wrong route, riding away from their house instead of towards it. Boulangerie Bonnefoy whizzes past, then the city hall, and they finally decide to get off when the bus stops at a station that's now grown familiar to them.
Almost automatically, their feet walk them down the road towards Wang's. Ling doesn't even look up as they enter, simply pointing towards their usual table. This time, unlike their past four visits, there's no need to hide a notebook under the table, or scribble frantic notes while praying that nobody notices. It'll just be them and Leon. Or at least, it'll be them and Leon if he isn't too busy to strike up a chat with them again.
Leon's eyes light up when he notices them, and they power-walk towards the table while quite obviously trying to hide a smile. "Hey, you're back!"
"I think I can qualify as a regular here now," Halle says lightly. At least, it sounds light to them, though that might just be because they don't have enough energy to force any other emotion into their words. "The great food just keeps bringing me back."
"Just the food? You sure about that?" His lips break into a playful smile. "Not me?"
Through the sleep-deprived haze of their mind, they figure out that maybe this is Leon flirting. That's nice. He thinks I'm attracted to him. Or he's attracted to me. They'd blush if they weren't so tired. "Huh. I guess." Their tongue feels like it's stuck in their mouth.
"So, do you want to order anything?"
The urge to lay their head on the table is growing by the second. "Not really."
Leon snorts. "What's that in person-who-got-enough-sleep-last-night-ese?"
"Not really," they repeat. It sounds exactly the same to them, but apparently Leon figures out what they're trying to say this time.
"I'm gonna get you some tea, which should wake you up a bit." He rests a hand against the table. "You sure you don't want anything else?"
"Nope."
"So just a cup of tea and my company." Leon makes a big show of counting the two things on his fingers. "Hey, that rhymed."
They laugh weakly.
He prods their head right before it can droop. "I'll be right back. Don't fall asleep on me, okay?"
"Mmhmm."
Time seems to pass differently when they're sleepy, because Leon appears to return with his tea just a few seconds after he left the table. "Wow, you're really out of it," he notes. "How long did you sleep last night?"
"Four hours. I am not gonna survive university."
He sets the steaming cup on the table. "Were you cramming for a test or something?"
They shake their head slightly, or try to. Their head's so heavy it might as well have not moved. "Stayed up until two reading your stuff."
"Really?"
"Yeah." Halle takes a sip of the tea, letting the soft fragrance of jasmine envelope them. "I couldn't stop reading, your stories are amazing."
"I-I'm sure they're not that good." They notice the tips of Leon's ears turning pink. "Some of them aren't even original works, just continuation of prompts. And there are a few bits of fanfiction, too."
The drowsiness that's been plaguing them all day finally begins to fade, giving way to tiny bits of coherence with every tentative sip of hot tea. "Hey, every writer takes inspiration from something. And if that something happens to be a writing prompt or a fandom, then so what? The new work is still yours — " He sits down next to them. "Uh, don't you still need to work?"
"I can just take my break earlier," he says nonchalantly. "And Ling can take over for me a bit. She's been complaining about being bored all week."
"Er, sure." The tea reflects the ceiling light in a distorted orb of white. Halle watches it wobble for a moment before continuing, "but my point still stands. Completely original or not, the stuff you write is great."
His ears flush darker. "Thanks."
"Where do you even get so many ideas?"
"I read a lot. Like, a lot. I actually ran out of books to read because I've checked out most of the English stuff at Book Nook."
"Most of them?" They exclaim. "The place has an entire floor stocked wall-to-wall, ceiling-to-floor with English books. You sure you've read them all?"
"I think so." Leon brushes his hair when it falls into his eyes again. He should really pin it back. "I'm planning to get a library card soon, though, so then I'll get more stuff to read. For now, though, do you have any book recommendations?"
"Do you like cookbooks?"
"Not really."
They smile slightly. "Then I don't have anything to recommend. I really should read more."
Leon pulls his phone out of his pocket. "You like culinary stuff, right? I know this food writer whose works are awesome."
Another food writer? They lean closer as Leon turns his phone on and starts typing, wondering who could it be. A fellow reviewer? A witty recipe-creator? Ooh, what if it's a blog of a famous chef…
"There we go!" He slides his phone towards them. "Check this out."
Halle picks the phone up, and suddenly feels very awake as they find themself staring at their own website.
