I had fallen asleep quickly that night. I had offered Adrian my bed, but he had refused to take it and stubbornly sprawled out on my couch when I insisted.
I figured that, all things considered, I would have trouble resting, but as it turns out, dying is very tiring. I didn't even have the energy to change. I crawled onto my familiar sheets, and my eyes fell closed. I was unconscious in seconds.
"Calm down, Cope, it was just a dream," he tells me, his hand resting on my arm. His face is so familiar to me, so comforting and warm.
"I'm sorry, Parker," I say, and my heart throbs painfully against my chest. "It just felt so real." I am slightly embarrassed that I had woken him with my screams yet again.
He stares at me with those worried eyes. I hate that look. "Maybe you should talk to Dr. McArthy," He says, his voice sounding uneasy.
I glare at him, irritation clear in my voice when I answer. "I don't need therapy, Parker. What I need is for you to stop treating me like I'm a complete psycho." I jerk my arm away from his, and he looks slightly hurt, but he doesn't repsond.
"I hate when you do that," I say, tears welling up in my eyes. I turn away from him, pulling the sheets up to my knees, sniffling. I hate when he makes me feel like something is wrong with me.
For a moment, he just sits there, silent. Finally, I feel him touch my arm again.
"I don't think you're crazy," He says, his voice quiet. Caring. "I'm just worried about you." He stares at me a moment longer. "Your dreams always worry me. Do you want to talk about it?"
I sit there stubbornly for a second, but I finally turn to him in defeat. I wipe the tears from my eyes. "It was about Rebecca," I whisper. "It was so awful, Parker. It was awful. And Becca is such a nice person. I'm afraid something's happened to her."
He pulls me towards him without another word, and I let him. "Everything will be okay," He promises, stroking my hair. "Becca is fine, okay? Just get some rest."
I opened my eyes, blinking against the light that was pouring down from above me. As my mind began to clear, I threw my hands in front of my face, sitting up. My head throbbed lightly, and I sighed. It was so hot in my room.
I hated dreaming about that. I hated it, yet I had dreamt of it almost every night since I ran away. I sat up, stretching. My joints popped and snapped, and it felt nice.
I hopped down from my bed, my bare feet hitting the wooden floor. I realized my blinds were wide open, and that was why my room was so bright. I went over to shut them when I heard a quiet knock at my bedroom door.
Unlike before, I wasn't disoriented when I awoke. I was completely aware of everything that was happening, and it made things seem less chaotic. Still, I half expected to peek through the crack of my door and find my apartment empty. I went over and opened it, and sighed in relief when Adrian's face appeared in front of me. He looked exactly the same as he had last night, like he hadn't even slept at all.
"Good morning," He said.
"Morning," I responded, my voice a bit unsure. I stepped out of my room, shutting the door behind me. Adrian moved out of my way without another word. I awkwardly walked into my kitchen, and he followed, as I expected. I opened my cabinets and got two cups down. "Do you drink coffee?" I asked, glancing behind me.
"Please," He said, with a nod. He quietly went over to sit at the table as I turned on my coffee machine. After that, I went over to sit down across from him, brushing my messy hair out of my face. His eyes scanned over me once, and he asked, "Rough night?"
