A sound so sweet, of you and me - Lutteo

15 - I won't ever let you go, wait for me to come home

First distance

Sleep was a bitch. Luna already tossed and turned in her bed for hours, yet she felt wide awake.

She'd tried everything. Counting sheep. Breathing exercises. Relaxing all her muscles. Her favorite sleeping position. Cuddling a pillow, cuddling two pillows.

Relaxing all her muscles while being in her favorite sleeping position and counting sheep.

Nothing set her free of her consciousness. All the empty space around her threw flashes into her mind like a neon sign on an empty highway, kept her eyes from closing.

Matteo would've dimmed those lights. He would've turned off all the voices and thoughts in her head with just one look, one touch, one kiss. His arms would've guided her like a lighthouse, leaded her to a safe haven where she'd find peace for the night.

But he wasn't there.

Instead, Matteo was somewhere over the ocean, still on a plane or maybe again on a plane. He wasn't there to be her lighthouse, and without him, she only found an unforgiving, cold sea.

And no sleep.

///

Eventually, she gave up. Crawled out of bed and sighed at the clock on her night stand telling her that she should long be dreaming. Sneaked into the hallway, her foot already on the staircase when she heard voices out of the living room.

They didn't sound like her parents, more like this quirky moderator from her mom's favorite cooking show, and the judge who probably survived on the tears he earned with his harsh critics.

She trotted into the living room.

Her dad rested against the back of the couch, soft snores hushing out every now and then, and his arm loosely wrapped around her mom. They snuggled just like she used to with Matteo during their movie nights.

Luna took a deep breath. Told herself not to be jealous of their parents. It was stupid, and it wouldn't bring Matteo back either.

"Luna, sweetie, what's wrong?", her mom asked, eyes all on her and she wished her mom hadn't teared apart from the TV. The last time she got out of bed in the middle of the night to see her parents had been years ago, after a particularly haunting nightmare, and nowadays, she told her parents about those in the morning.

In hindsight, missing Matteo left her more shaken than this nightmare.

Her mom elbowed Miguel, who first groaned, peeked through one eye, then blinked slowly at the sight of his daughter. "Huh? Luna? How long did I sleep? Why are you here?"

"I can't sleep." Luna sat down on the edge of the couch, feeling her shoulders caving down, feeling small. "At all."

"Do you want me to make you some tea? Or a hot milk?"

Luna shook her head. Although she had prepared the very same tea for Matteo once he – they both – learned they were soulmates, she doubted it would do any good. Steaming drinks had helped before she knew the healing effect of his embrace, of his featherlight kisses and acapella lullabies. "I don't want any tea."

"Oh, sweetie", her dad stroked her hand, but even her dad, who always knew a solution, or at least the right direction, ran out of words.

"Do you think he'll come back soon?"

Her parents shared a look too obvious to miss. "Monica, did you give her the box yet?", her dad finally said. "Which box?", Luna shot back, heartbeat picking up. "What's going on?"