Deadline≫hemmings a.u

4.6

We stopped using the second bed.

In the nights that followed leaving Luke, I barely slept. After we got into our hotel room, Michael and I would shuffle into our beds, not even bothering to turn on the TV or a light, usually without a word. Michael and I went for hours not talking, which would have been unheard of just a short while ago. But now it was as if when Luke left, he took our words and the will to speak with him.

He took so much more than that.

The first few nights, I couldn't stop sobbing. The cotton scratched against my skin as I stained the pillowcases with tears. Horrible gaspping noises would leave my spluttering lips almost constantly as I tried to cope with the terrible pain in my chest. It was a miracle I never woke Michael up.

But one night, I just couldn't cry anymore. My chest still ached, but everything else felt numb and the tears just wouldn't come. I desperately missed the warmth of Luke's body, the gentle rise and fall of his chest beneath my head as I fell asleep to the steady beat of his heart and his fingers twirling through my hair. I wanted him back. I laid there for hours, wide awake, trying desperately to think of ways Luke could have survived and I would find him again, all the while facing the horrible truth. He was gone.

It wasn't until one night as I laid their quietly, thoughts consuming me, that I heard it. Soft sobs coming from the other side of the room. I sat up, making sure not to make any noises that could alert Michael of my wakefulness. I could make out the mound of blankets that was him, shaking slightly in time to the sobs. That was when I realized that the reason I never woke Michael up was because he was already up, mourning the way I did now.

"Michael?" I had whispered, my voice carrying through the darkness.

"Melanie? he choked out. I could see his outline sit up and face me. His hand came up to wipe his face. "I'm sorry, I - I didn't mean to wake you."

I didn't say anything in response to that. Instead, I got up and walked over to his bed. Without waiting for him to speak, I climbed into bed next to him. Michael watched me silently for a moment, but then he fell back to his side like he was before with his back to me. Except this time, he had a hand stretched out to me, palm open and waiting. I scooted over, pressing my body into the curve of his back and wrapped my arms around him. His hand found mine, lacing our fingers together and he pressed our hands to our chest. No more sobs fell from his lips that night, but his body still shook every now and then.

It was another few nights before Michael and I found each other in sleepless hours again, except this time, he came to me. I had been sleeping, with the aid of the sleeping pills we bought for the both of us, but it was by no means a peaceful sleep. I was trapped in a nightmare, thrashing around in my bed as I dreamt over and over of scenarios where I could have saved Luke, but he slipped through my fingertips, his death right in front of me to end any hopes of finding him again.

Michael, who had been wide awake, torturing himself with thoughts like I had, brought me back. His cool hands pressed into my burning skin as he woke me, gathering me into his arms as he calmed me down. Without me having to ask, Michael climbed into my bed with me and I curled into his side. I fell asleep with his fingers absentmindedly playing with my hair.

The next time it happened, we didn't even need sobs or nightmares to bring us together. We entered the hotel room, dropping out bags to the floor before going through out nightly routine. Once we had changed and had just finished brushing our teeth side-by-side in the bathroom, Michael simply took me by the hand and led me out of the bathroom. The both of us crawled into the same bed without the need for verbal confirmation.

And that's how it went.

***

Michael made the call.