Insomnolence |Ryden AU| ✔️

~8~

There are few things in life that surprise me.  Notice how I said surprise and not scare.  Those two words mean very different things.  For example, the darkness scares me.  It doesn't surprise me, because it reappears every single night.  Horrifying nightmares scare me.  They don't surprise me, because I've been having them for as long as I can remember.  When something scares you, it makes your heart race, makes your skin clammy and cold, makes you fear for your life.  When something surprises you, it might make you jump, might make your heart jolt for just a split second, but that overwhelming fear doesn't consume you.  They mean different things.

One of the things that surprises me the most, however, is when I wake up in the morning with no recollection of a terrifying nightmare.

The morning sunlight is blinding.  It peers through my thin curtains and illuminates the room like a bright spotlight.  Birds gleefully chirp outside the window, singing their morning songs without a care in the world.  Everything seems so delightful, so why do I have such an odd feeling in the pit of my stomach?

Something isn't right.  I've never gone a single night of sleep without a nightmare of some sort.  Am I miraculously cured?  No, it doesn't work that easily, although I wish it did.  Am I dead?  That one makes more sense.  Maybe that's why all I can see is a bright light.  It's not the sun.  It's the afterlife.

Confusion fogging my brain, I force my eyes open, staring down at the dark fabric of my couch.  That's strange.  Why am I on the couch?  Did I not make it to my bedroom last night?  Well, why did I fall asleep, anyway?  So many questions, and my mind is too blurred to make sense of it.

A blanket is draped over me, the one I had balled up in the armchair last night.  I didn't touch it, so why am I curled up in it?  Maybe I've developed a sleepwalking disorder.  Great, let's just add that to my everlasting list of problems.  First the terrible nightmares, and now sleepwalking.  I'm just a special person, aren't I?

As I roll over, my muscles still aching from exhaustion, the dam in my mind suddenly breaks down.  I remember why I'm on the couch.  I remember why I fell asleep.  I remember everything that happened last night, but it still doesn't answer one question.

Where's Brendon?

Maybe he left early.  He probably had to go to work, and I wouldn't want to make him late because of my own problems.  What time is it anyway, I wonder?

I sit up, trying to stretch out my aching limbs.  Even though I may have slept peacefully for once, I still didn't sleep well.  I still feel just as exhausted as I did last night, my eyes burning and my body paining.  Will I ever escape this torment?

Probably not.

There's a small note propped up against the plant on the coffee table.  Even from where I'm at, I recognize his handwriting instantly.  The way he writes his capital letters isn't difficult to miss.  I reach for the little note and pick it up, wondering what it has to say.

Good morning, Ry.  Hope you slept well.  You were out pretty hard when I woke up.  Somehow you managed to fall off my shoulder and onto my lap in the middle of the night, so it was a little tricky to get up without disturbing you.  I didn't want you to get cold, either, so I just grabbed the first blanket I saw.  Sorry about leaving without letting you know, but I had to get to work, and I didn't want to interrupt your sleep.  You needed it.  I'll be at the office if you need anything.  Talk to you later.

-B

It takes me a moment to realize I'm smiling at a note.  At least he was courteous enough to leave me something instead of just bailing without an explanation.  No wonder he's a therapist.  He was born to help people.