The Sun is Gone

Nightmares

Liz's POV

I was lying awake in between the stiff sheets of the uncomfortable motel bed, alone, in the dark, tears still leaking from my eyes, although I had already done most of my crying.
Kurt never showed up. It was almost 10:30 pm and he never called or showed. I kept trying to call the number I had for him, but got no answer.
I couldn't believe he had stood me up. I was afraid something bad had happened to him. I had been back and forth between worry and heartbreak for hours now. I couldn't go home. Craig thought I was with Shelli and it would be really suspicious if I suddenly came back.
I had tried to call Shelli but she hadn't answered, either. I even debated calling Lisa back in San Francisco, just to talk, but I couldn't bring myself to do it. She hadn't been happy with my decisions ever since I'd gotten back together with and engaged to Craig. She knew I wasn't really happy. And she was pretty pissed that I had agreed to move away.
But now wasn't the time to start analyzing more failed relationships in my life. The one right in front of my face was enough. Fucking Kurt, just not showing up.
I tossed around in the gigantic bed, rearranging the flat pillows and trying to get more comfortable.
There was an abrupt knock on the door. I sat bolt upright, drawing in a gasp.
"Liz, it's me!" I heard his voice. I jumped from the bed and unlocked the door.
"Kurt!" He reeked of liquor and looked like hell.
"Liz, I'm so sorry," he apologized, his voice slightly exaggerated by the alcohol.
"Why are you drunk, Kurt?" I demanded. "It's ten-thirty at night. You should have been here six hours ago."
"Listen, Liz. I'm so sorry. We had obligations to help out with some other bands tonight that I didn't know about. I didn't mean to be stuck there so late."
"But you didn't tell me. And then you stayed and got drunk." I was pissed. "I was so worried about you, Kurt. I tried calling you so many times."
"Liz, listen—I—I..." Kurt suddenly went pale and scooted me to the side, bolting for the bathroom and slamming the door behind him.
I winced as I could hear him getting sick, over and over. My heart ached for him. I knew his stomach was probably killing him. How much had he had to drink?
Angry as I still felt, I couldn't leave him alone. The time ticked by with him stuck in the bathroom. He'd grow quiet for a few minutes before I'd hear him getting sick yet again.
I was crying for a thousand different reasons I couldn't describe. I wanted to go into the bathroom, but Kurt never liked it when I saw him getting sick, so I hesitated. He sounded absolutely miserable. Even though I was angry with him, it broke my heart for him to suffer like this.
I sat on the edge of the bed, shaking, listening for him. It grew quiet, and stayed quiet. I waited a few more minutes. It was still silent.
I walked to the bathroom door and pushed it open, expecting to see Kurt passed out on the floor, asleep.
But what I saw was something very different. My mouth dropped open in shock as my eyes met his. I couldn't speak as he quickly looked away from me. I had nothing to say.
I was on autopilot as I quickly gathered my things and threw on some sweats. I snatched up my car keys and took off out the door.

I tore down the highway—angry, hurt, betrayed. Kurt was my soulmate—the one person on the face of this earth that I wanted to be with. And he was so amazing in so many ways. So why was he throwing his life away using heroin?
I couldn't get the image out of my mind. Him injecting himself with that syringe like he knew exactly what he was doing. His horrified blue eyes meeting mine for a second before flinching away in shame. I felt so sick, I couldn't stop shaking. How could he? I never thought he'd use hard drugs like that.
I couldn't bear the thought of something horrible happening... of him dying. I gasped in great heaving sobs as I drove around mindlessly in my car. It was my fault. I had pushed him into this position of fame. I encouraged him to do this and he couldn't handle it. And now this was his coping mechanism and I didn't know how to help. Fuck.
It was breaking me. I could hardly see through my tears to drive. I began heading back in the direction of the motel. As angry as I was, I was also deeply concerned about the man I loved. I couldn't handle the thought of abandoning him now. Nothing could happen to him.
I pulled back into the motel parking lot, feeling guilty for having left in the first place. I was just in such shock. But I wanted to help him. I really did.
I unlocked the door and stepped back inside. The lights were all off. I could see Kurt's sleeping form curled up in bed.
I stripped out of my sweats and slid into bed next to him.
"Liz," I heard him mutter. I scooted close to him and wrapped him in my arms, suddenly needing just to hold him—to know that he was real and still with me. "I'm sorry. I love you." I fought back tears.
"I love you too, Kurt. We'll talk tomorrow." I kissed his stubbly cheek and he wrapped his arms tightly around me. I drifted off to sleep.
I wish I could say that I slept well, but if it hadn't have been for Kurt's arms wrapped tightly around me, I don't know how I would have dealt with the nightmares that kept waking me up—nightmares of him using, being addicted, dying. I desperately needed him to be okay. I needed him with me.