The morning sun creeps its way through my bedroom curtains, rudely waking me from my much-needed sleep.
I cast my eyes down to the ever-present mess on my floor. My eyes follow the discarded clothes that never seem to look right on me, past the unfinished and forgotten worksheets, to the door.
His door. Where he had slept when Gran had moved into his old room for the summer. I had fallen asleep to the comforting sounds of his music playing through the wall.
It wasn't always that way. Too many times did we argue about the volume and taste of his music.
I would come home from a long, frustrating day at school to find him hogging the TV with his iPod plugged in blasting Slipknot at full volume. I hated it then, but boy, would I love to come home to his music now.
I used to lie in bed and listen to the sounds of his laughter while he played Xbox games until all hours of the night. I never admitted it to anyone, but I had trouble sleeping before he switched to the room next to mine.
Somehow, when he was there, my cold, damp, room became warmer and I would sleep easy. I never told him that. I remember the days when it would pour down outside and we would watch videos together. He would pause them so he could sketch the characters on screen, and I'd be sitting there, just quietly watching him. I can't remember when his pencils turned into Xbox controllers. I shake my head to bring myself back to the present.
Somehow I muster the strength that I find every morning to get out of bed, and pick my way through the mess of my floor and up the stairs. Finding breakfast wasn't hard, there's always so much food now he's gone. It was another thing I would start pointless arguments about.
"You eat anything and everything you find! Do you not think about anyone but yourself?"
He never said much to that. I'm vaguely aware of the ache in my stomach, which I know isn't hunger.
I look through the pantry for cereal, knowing whatever I eat will taste the same to my non-existent appetite. I'm barely through the first tasteless mouthful when the dog begins to bark, signalling there is about to be a knock on the door, and sure enough, there it is.
I trudge to open the front door, grumbling to myself about who would want to be outside at this time of morning. A familiar face greets me, and I look up at him.
"I'm back. Miss me?" He grins.
University has been good for him.
He's different. He's lost weight and there's a new sense of self-confidence about him.
The dull ache in my stomach has gone and I think of how empty I've felt without him the past year. He's looking at me with a smirk playing on his face.
"You?" I scoff.
"Na."
• By Kayla Bopp, Year 13, South Otago High School
