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Rose Lalonde blearily wiped 7 AM sleep out of her eyeballs, sending desiccated tear dust onto the floor from her fingertips. She looked out of the window of John's bedroom, hearing some Washington birds chirp chirp chirping away, and slowly rose to her feet, trying her best not to wake anyone up. She grabbed the blinds and shut them, and then, the curtains over top. Her back ached quietly from its place resting on the floor for hours at a time, nervously tossing and turning against the firm ground cushioned by an air mattress shared by a girl from an island.
She looked at John's bed, Dave and him sleeping so soundly, heads at each other's feet, facing away for perhaps, as they claimed, the minimum amount of bromosexuality possible. Rose stifled a little laugh. Dave, for all his diminutive stature, was perhaps the loudest snorer of the four of them, falling sleep the quickest, stomach overloaded with food when they returned from the Olive Garden that John's dad had took them all to. He woke up after his nap, wrecked everyone in Super Smash Brothers, and then passed right the fuck back out.
Rose slowly tiptoed towards the bedroom door, jet lagged into incomprehensible earliness. No human should be awake at 7 on a Saturday, especially not during winter break, especially not while staying with her best friends at one of their houses for a week with only the barest minimum parental guidance. Yet, here she was, creeping down the stairs, trying to avoid any squeaky floorboards. The air was filled with gentle cigar smells, and she blanched. There was absolutely no way that John's dad was up this early.
No, he was, smoking outside with the front door open just a crack, blowing a gentle snowy draft into the welcome mat, keeping the worst of the smell swirling into the air, likely bothering the neighbors. Well, that suited Rose just fine. She tried to keep quiet enough to not disturb him, but he turned around anyway once she had reached the ground floor, poking the door open enough for her to be talked to.
"Couldn't sleep?" He asked, bending down to put the cigar down in an ashtray set out in the firm snow.
"No, sir." Rose replied. He smiled behind a little scraggly beard.
"Need food?" He asked.
"Yes, sir, that would be greatly appreciated." She replied, glancing toward the kitchen. He left his cigar there in the snow, letting it burn out while he vanished behind the kitchen door - Rose would get food herself, she was an independent 15 year old, but something about venturing into the Egbert's kitchen without asking permission felt sacrosanct. She sat on the couch and waited while he brought out store-brand Frosted Flakes in a bowl, with milk and a spoon, and another glass of milk, all on a tray, setting it down on the coffee table in front of her.
"I'm gonna get back to, uh, that." Dad said, gesturing towards the front door with his thumb. Rose nodded silently, and he disappeared behind the front door, this time shutting it behind him. Rose just-as-silently ate her cereal, drank her milk, and braved the impossible depths of the kitchen for just long enough that she could put the tray on the sink before returning back up the stairs. She wasn't really sure what she came down for - was it food?
Jade, John, and Dave were all still sound asleep, of course. John looked especially cute, sleeping in Rose's hairband and with his nails freshly painted, curled up into a little ball, Rose thought, quietly shutting the bedroom door behind her, but she would keep that tidbit for when John woke up. And for anyone else, Jade would probably be a nightmare sleeping partner, the way she sprawled like a dog all over the air mattress, but Rose simply sat down at the edge, pivoted until she was lying back down, turned away from Jade, and let her eyes droop shut. Jade made a snorting little sound and her arm thumped at Rose's head until Rose reached back, grabbed Jade's wrist, and set it down close to her hair.
It wasn't so bad to feel loved by your friends.