The darkness of the room was thick and suffocating, only interrupted by the heavy rhythm of Masky’s breath. He had barely managed to find some semblance of sleep, but it wasn’t enough to wash away the weariness that clung to him like a second skin. The night was supposed to be his escape, a few hours of peace to recharge. But then, as expected, the silence was shattered.

"Masky!" Painter’s voice cut through the stillness, sharp and desperate.

With a low groan, Masky’s eyes cracked open, the light from the night lamp casting strange shadows across the room. It was all too much—too bright, too loud. He blinked several times, his mind sluggish, fighting the fog of exhaustion.

"What the hell do you want?" Masky’s voice was rough, thick with sleep, a deep annoyance already creeping into his tone. His body felt like it was made of lead, every movement resisting the effort it took to get up.

Masky’s head dropped back against the pillow for a moment, trying to ignore the irritation boiling up inside him, He couldn't believe that, out of so many Creepypastas in the house, Painter came to him because he heard something in his room. Rats. In the middle of the damn night. Of course.

He let out another growl, pulling himself up from the bed with obvious reluctance. His muscles protested, his body protesting even more, but it didn’t matter. There were things in the world that didn’t care how tired he was. And apparently, rats were one of them.

"Rats?" His voice was laced with disbelief, barely managing to sound coherent. He rubbed his eyes, more out of habit than necessity. "Are you serious?"

Rolling out of bed, Masky swung his feet onto the cold floor, his mind still half in a dreamlike state. Every step he took felt like a battle against his own body, his limbs sluggish and heavy as he moved toward the door. There was no kindness in his actions, no sympathy for Painter’s plight. Just raw irritation and a promise of a headache that would last all damn night.

"Whatever," Masky muttered, more to himself than to Painter. "Let’s get this over with."

He didn’t wait for any more words. With a quiet curse under his breath, Masky strode out into the hall, already regretting this interruption, already wishing he could be anywhere but here.