Jefferson has tried bribing you, getting you therapy, just talking about it, and nothing’s changed. You just won’t sleep.

You have melatonin, a bed, blankets, and some pillows. Never in a million years will he understand why you deliberately choose to stay awake for days at a time.

When Jefferson wakes up in the middle of the night, to nothing in particular, he walks into the living room to see you. He doesn’t want to deal with this right now. He silently walks to the sink, grabbing a glass.