Capricorns and Devil Horns

Goddamnit, Morgan!

3am and I couldn't sleep. Laying flat on my bed staring up at the ceiling, hands clasped together over my chest. No music, no shuffling from Skip, no snoring through thin walls. Morgan's wheezing and nasal rumbles had become my nightly lullaby. My mind drifted to him, wondering whether or not he was okay in that hospital. Whether he even actually deserved to be in there. God, I fucking missed him...

The pattering of Skip's tiny paws against the floor made me sit up a little. In this mouth, he carried a white piece of fabric. I furrowed my brows and took it from him when he excitedly leaped into my lap. The combination of mint and vanilla immediately hit me. It was Morgan's shirt.

"You knew I was missing him, huh Buddy?" I cooed, bringing the material closer to my face with one hand and using the other to comb through Skips black fur.

"Maybe we should go see him, huh? Well, maybe just me... Let him explain himself..."

Skip began to lick my hand and curl into me. I laid back down and closed my eyes, Morgan's shirt against my cheek and Skip under my arm. I didn't sleep, but I did dream in a way.

I had plans with Hannah later that day, so woke up a little earlier than usual to get to the shower before Morgan. I didn't blast my music loud as I usually did as to not wake him- he was certainly not a morning person. I stepped out of the shower, patting my skin dry with the towel. It was 10am, meaning he'd be up soon, though I wasn't close enough to the kitchen to hear him shuffle about like I usually would. I dropped my towel and stood at the sink for a moment, burying my head in a warm flannel. So stuck in thought about my plans for the day ahead, I hadn't heard a yawn from the other side of the door before it slowly swung open.

"Nora..."

I jumped out of my skin, dropping the flannel, staring at Morgan in horror. Wearing blue plaid boxers and a smirk, his eyes rolled over my exposed body. No words would come out of my mouth. After what seemed like an eternity, my brain finally told my body to cover my private areas and I hunched over.

"Goddammit, Morgan!" I yelled, "Get the fuck out!"

"Uh. Yes. That would be breast-best. Sorry. Sorry." He stumbled out of the door.

When I'd finally gotten dressed and dried in my own room, I joined Morgan in the living-room, where he was watching an old episode of F.R.I.E.N.D.S.

"So sorry about earlier, Dear." Morgan said as soon as I set beside him.

I kicked my feet up onto the coffee table and he rested his arm on the back of the sofa behind me.

"Perhaps you should knock next time." I commented.

"Perhaps." He laughed, "I must say, it wasn't the worst thing I've seen in my many years of existence."

I swatted his arm.

"Well don't get used to it. It's very unlikely you'll be seeing it again." I teased.

"How very unfortunate for me." He smirked.

I fidgeted in my bed, unable to stop myself from shiver. It wasn't cold. The feeling of uncertainty in the pit of my stomach made me weirdly uncomfortable.

"You seem like a Cancer." I stated, looking at him across the table.

He looked up from the old sketchbook of mine he'd been flicking through.

"Insulting. You seem like a Heart Disease." He taunted back.

"No, Morgan, Cancer. As in the zodiac signs. It means you were born between the 20th of June and the 22nd of July."

"How can someone seem like they were born at a certain time of year?" he questioned.

"You have the characteristics of a Cancer." I told him.

"Do tell..."

"Well, from what I know of you, you're caring, you're loyal, you're creative...moody..."

"Moody? How dare you?"

"You wouldn't speak to me for three hours after I forgot to buy Cheerios yesterday."

"Point taken. What are you then?"

"Sensible, practical, realistic..."

"Great..." He droned.

"What's wrong with that?"

"N-Nothing, Dear... Don't you think that makes you a little- I dunno- closed-minded?"

I scoffed.

"Psssh no." I defended.

"Whatever you say." He sighed.

I finally managed to drift off around 5am to a dreamless sleep, and awoke 6 hours later to Skip waving Morgan's shirt in my face, as if to say, "Come on. Go get him". And I was gonna. I was gonna go get him.