Beside

19 - sentry

"Do you ever think about how big the universe is? There could be another me and you somewhere with green skin. Maybe they don't have to brush their teeth."

"I like my teeth, though."

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

c h r i s

I wake slowly, soft and warm, the air thick with pine and something... familiar. My lashes flutter as I blink into the hazy light. It's quiet, the hush after a storm.

This isn't my bed. This is silk and velvety smooth. This is all grey and neat and perfect.

I shift under the covers. My chest aches buried somewhere deep, just out of reach. I breathe in again, and the smell—god, it's everywhere. It smells like Fox. I smell like Fox.

The window blinks slowly. The glass has eyelashes, fluttering open and closed. It's waiting for something, but I don't know what.

What happened?

The fire. The smoke. The friends.

My bra is still on. And my pants. My sweater... I glance around the room, my gaze landing on a folded heap of pink on the desk chair.

The ensuite door creaks open. I sit up, eyes wide as Fox walks in, fresh from the shower, a white towel slung low on his hips. His hair is damp, dark tendrils falling across his forehead, and steam curls around his shoulders. He catches my stare, a dry smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

"We didn't have sex, Chris. I studied all night." He gestures to the pile of anatomy notes scattered on the floor beside the bed. "You were sick, said you didn't want to be alone." He pulls open a drawer, but my eyes stay glued to his back, the way his muscles shift. "Headache, dizziness, pallor."

I'm quiet for a moment, the ache in my chest tightening. "Thank you."

After pulling on grey sweats, he tugs a black tee over his head, the fabric catching on his damp skin.

I should tell him—who I am, and why I get headaches sometimes. Is that why I got that headache? Lying by omission? Yeah, it's eating at me. A parasite slithering inside my stomach, eating all my food because I don't deserve it.

Wait. That's a tapeworm. I don't think I have a tapeworm. I hope I don't have a tapeworm.

Fox catches my eye, his brow furrowing as he tugs his shirt down. "Are you still dizzy?"

I shake my head, forcing a smile.

His eyes narrow, but he doesn't push it. Instead, he shuffles over and grabs the anatomy notes off the floor, piling them into a messy stack before dropping them onto the desk.

"Um, what's your plan today?"

"Training," he says, scanning his desk for something. "Got a mid-season match in a few days. It's preliminary, but I gotta be in top shape for it. Fighting some bulky creep named Onyx." He picks up a stack of small cards. "Should be an easy win."

I nod, though he's not looking at me.

He pauses by the dresser, scratching the back of his neck. "I'm sorry I haven't been taking you to better classes lately. I'll fix it."

"No, no, it's okay. You never had to do it in the first place." My fingers twist the hem of the blanket in my lap, and my eyes drop to the sheet, like liquid metal. "I'm really lucky."

He chuckles softly, and I look up, drawn to it. There's a small smile on his lips. Oh, he shouldn't be grey. Everything around him shouldn't be cold and empty.