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Carmen just wanted a day alone, that’s it. Just one single, 24 hour day where he wasn’t being asked questions or teased or touched or bothered by anyone, but as long as she was there, he wouldn’t have that. Because even if he called out of work, turned his phone off, went for a walk, she would somehow find a way to weasel her way in, just like she was right now.
“Carmy, your girls here!” Richie yelled from the kitchen and Carmen sighed, his head rolling back, eyes closed. Of course she was. He was in the office, the door cracked, and he just wanted to fully shut and lock it, text her an excuse to say that he was swamped and couldn’t stop to say hi, but then he imagined her frown and the incessant questions she’d give. So instead he stands, opening the door and walking into the kitchen.
She was talking to Marcus, handing him a small wrapped gift for his birthday. Carmen knew what it was -- a dumb handmade pin of his favorite album, just like she had made Sydney, Richie, and Tina for theirs -- because she had mentioned it to him four separate times in the last week. Carmen forces a smile when she catches his eye, opening his arms and pulls her in for a quick hug, one she follows with a kiss. “Carmen! How are you, baby?”
“Good. Busy. You?”
“Aww, I’m sorry you’re busy, is there anything I can do to help?”
“No, I’m okay.” And there it was. She could never leave shit alone, she always had to try and fix things, fix him . He was a project to her, nothing more. “So why’d you stop by?”
She shrugs slightly and he can feel her getting embarrassed, flustered. “No reason! I just wanted to stop by and check up on you, see if you needed any help.”
“Well I don’t,” Carmen ignores her small frown, turning his head to Richie who was on his phone. “Cousin, stop fuckin’ texting your girlfriend and get back to work, we got orders coming in.” Richie doesn’t look up from his phone, just flips Carmen off, and she snorts. Of course she does. “Look, I appreciate you coming over but we have shit to do, you know?”
“Oh… well, are you sure there’s nothing I could do to help? Y’know, to make you less stressed?’
“I’m fucking sure!” Carmen speaks louder than he means too, his voice echoing throughout the kitchen. She’s staring at him, her mouth slightly open, and she looks around quickly. Everyone was looking at them.
She grabs his arm and pulls, dragging him towards the office, closing it behind them. “Okay, what the hell was that about?”
“Look, I just don’t need help-”
“Yeah, fucking clearly.” She was angry at him now, arms crossed against her chest and a scowl on her face. “You’ve been snapping at me for the last week, Carmen. What’s wrong? Why can’t you just talk to me?”
Carmen scoffs, rubbing his face harshly. “Why, so you can get all fuckin’ sad and shit about it? So you can cry and have me fuckin’ fix your attitude.” She says nothing, but he clearly struck a nerve with the way her jaw is clenching. “You have been up my ass, Brooklyn, okay? You’re fucking killing me here.”
“I’m just trying to help you-”
“I don’t need your help!” He’s yelling again, unable to control himself. “And I don’t fuckin’ want it either! You say you’re helping me but then you just make things worse, okay? You come here every day and distract everyone so we get behind on orders, you keep me up at night with your stupid shit like Marcus’ gift which you know he’s gonna toss out just like everyone else did, and you don’t ever fucking listen when I tell you that I’m fine. You just keep pushing! You’re suffocating .”
She doesn’t say anything. She just stares at him. He’s breathing hard and it feels like a weight has been lifted off of his shoulders, finally being able to tell her the truth. Sure, he could have waited and talked to her at home, or maybe explained it calmer or nicer, but it’s too late to change his word choice. “Well…” She sniffles, swallowing hard. “I’m sorry. Uhm… I’m gonna go, I’ll let you get back to work, Carmy.”
Carmen watches as she leaves the office, not bothering to close the door, and avoids the questioning looks given by the crew. Richie walks inside the office immediately, shoving his thumb behind him in her direction. “The fuck did you do?”
“Nothing for you to worry about, Richie. Get the fuck back to work.” Carmen pushes past him and sets out to his station, ignoring the looks he’s given and ignoring the worry stirring in his stomach. She called him Carmy. It was never Carmy with her, even when they were arguing. She made a point to use his name, his real one, over and over again, repeating it until he felt dizzy. He used to love hearing her say it, and then slowly got used to it. But now the hole its absence left was palpable to him.
He had to work for another three hours and throughout the night he checked his phone, out of habit, looking for a text from her. Nothing. Not a message calling him a dick, not a message asking what he wanted to do for dinner (which he would always roll his eyes at; he worked at a restaurant for fucks sake,) not a message asking when he’d be back home.
She texted him a lot. He used to answer each message with genuine interest, but lately he didn’t, ignoring entire strings of them until she said something worth replying to or he needed to ask her something. He had hurt her feelings, clearly, and now he was getting the silent treatment which is what he wanted. So why was it bothering him so much?
The day ends and he bites the bullet, shooting her a text before he finishes up the few things he had left. “Hey, what do you want for dinner?” His phone didn’t chime for the next twenty minutes, even when he had checked it a few times to see if his ringer was off or something. He sends another text as he grabs his coat. “B? I can grab something on the way home, just let me know what you want.”
He sends another one as he waits for the train, getting more annoyed and worried with each passing text. “Brooklyn, babe, can you just let me know what you want to eat? How about pizza?” Nothing. Carmen waits another ten minutes before he decides to call, stepping off the train only a block away from his apartment where you’ve been crashing the last few weeks.
“Hello?”
“Brooklyn, Jesus, finally,” He’s relieved, though he doesn’t really know why. “I texted you a few times to see what you wanted for dinner, babe.”
“Oh, sorry. I didn’t see them.” Her voice was off and he frowned, heading past the apartment to the pizza place next door. “M’not hungry though, I ate earlier.”
“What? Why? We always eat together.” He knows why. He knows she’s punishing him for his poor choice of words earlier. “Is this because of what I said-”
“Nope. Just got hungry earlier than normal, that’s all.” He wants to call her out, yell at her, have her yell at him, anything but this stupid fucking ‘Yeah, I’m okay,’ bullshit, but he can’t. He’s tired and he just wants to go home and crawl into bed with her and sleep. “I’ll see you when you get back.”
Carmen sucks his teeth slightly, but gives up. “Yeah, I’ll see you soon. I love-” She hangs up. She hangs up before he finishes saying ‘I love you’ and before she says it at all. Carmen curses, shoving his phone in his pocket and getting a pizza to go, his anger threatening to spill over. Brooklyn always ended the calls with ‘I love you Carmen.’ Not once had she ever hung up on him without calling him back right away to apologize for the premature action and to say it. Until now.
He waited for the call the entire walk back to the apartment. Nothing. He unlocks the front door, jaw clenched, and opens it to a dark apartment. She was home, her shoes and purse at the front door like normal, her keys hanging up. There were tell-tale signs that she was home and had been for a while, yet she was not there in the living room, sitting on the couch watching a show like she always was.
Carmen puts the pizza down on the kitchen counter and kicks his shoes off haphazardly, throwing his jacket and keys onto the couch before making his way through the apartment. The bedroom door was cracked open, the light on, and he peers in and sees her curled up on her phone.
“Hey.” She looks up at him and smiles before going back to her phone.
“Oh, hey, Carmy.”
“Fuckin’ really?” He turns on his heel, walking into the bathroom and slamming the door behind him. She doesn’t bother to follow after him, to knock softly on the door like she always did, offer an ear or a shoulder. He showered alone for the first time in three months, using her shampoo and conditioner and bodywash even though she would tell him to stop because he knew she liked when he did.
When he comes out of the shower he wraps the towel around his waist and walks into the bedroom. The light was off. Her phone was down and he could just barely see the top of her head peeking out from under the covers. He changes in silence, the pizza he had gotten for dinner long forgotten about. He wasn’t hungry anymore.
When he crawls into bed he instantly wants to throw an arm over her, pull her into him so he can sleep. He doesn’t. Instead he turns over, his back to hers, and he lays there, staring into the darkness of the room. He didn’t fall asleep until 4 am and in an instant it felt as though he was being woken up by his alarm.
He groans, grabbing at his phone and turning his alarm off, cursing; he had forgotten to charge it overnight, too caught up in his own misery. He gets out of bed, pulling on jeans and a shirt, looking back over at her. She was still in bed. By now, on most days, she was sitting up, groggy but with a smile, wishing him well and giving him a kiss.
“Babe? I’m leaving for work.” He waits at the edge of the bed, afraid to approach. She doesn’t stir. “Brooklyn?”
“Hm?” She rolls over, rubbing at her eyes, and he just wants to stay with her. “Oh… have a good day today, m’kay?” She yawns, holding out one of her hands to him and he grabs it. She sits up slightly and kisses the top of his hand gently, far gentler than he deserves. “Love you.”
“I love you too. You gonna visit me today? Maybe I can take an early lunch or something?”
She shakes her head and he notices that she’s avoiding his eyes. “I don’t know, I probably won’t. I don’t wanna bother you guys when you’re busy.”
“I wanna see you, though.”
“Right.” She lays back down in bed, turning away from him, her voice thick though she tries to pretend it isn’t. “I’ll see, okay? Now get going before you’re late, Carmen.” He doesn’t want to leave. He stands there for a few moments, staring at her unmoving frame, before he begins to move on autopilot. He’s not sure how or when he made it to work but he did and throughout the day he checks his phone, a few times an hour, just hoping to see a message from her.
Silence.
Richie had asked if she was going to be swinging by and Carmen felt like someone else was speaking for him when he said “No idea. Probably not, though.”
“She always comes up here.”
“Yeah, I fucking know.” Carmen ends the conversation with a look. He can’t think straight the entire day, fucking up basic tasks and meals and even slicing open his thumb when he dropped his knife at the sound of his phone going off, only for it to have been a text from someone else. He had never been more thankful for an early shift end and practically ran home, willing the train to hurry, to go faster.
When he got to the apartment, she’s on the couch this time, and for half a second Carmen is thankful that she had gotten over her hurt feelings and had decided to get back to normal, but then she’s not looking up at him and he notices her bags by the front door and he realizes what's happening. “Brooklyn?”
“Can we talk?” He sits on the couch beside her and reaches out to grab her hand but she moves it away from him. It stings. “This isn’t easy… but I think it’s for the best that we break up.”
“What? Are… are you fucking serious?” She nods and finally looks up at him. She had been crying since he left that morning, that much was obvious. She was still in her pajamas, her eyes red and swollen and cheeks blotchy, tears burning at her eyes. This clearly wasn’t easy on her but she was doing it. She was leaving him. “Is this because of what I said the other day? I was just stressed, okay? I didn’t mean to take it out on you-”
“You did, though.” Even though her voice wavers he isn’t sensing weakness, or a chip in her foundation. He’s sensing exhaustion. Heartache. “You meant it when you said those things about me. About me being suffocating ,” She says the word like its acid, spitting it back towards him. He doesn’t even remember calling her that. “I love you, Carmen, and I want you to be happy and you’re not happy. Not when you’re with me.”
“I can be. I am ,” He says. He can’t be alone. His thoughts are drifting to Mikey and his parents and friends and suddenly the loneliness he had gotten so good at pushing away by surrounding himself with you was coming back, ready to swallow him whole. “You can’t leave me.”
He can feel it, the overwhelming anxiety, and he grabs at his chest slightly. “Carmen, stop, please? It’s okay we just… maybe we weren’t good for each other. You know, in a relationship? I still want to be your friend, I just…” She grabs his hands now, holding them in her lap. He hates it. He hates how just her touch has calmed him, even when her words are doing the exact opposite. “I’m making you miserable. I don’t want you to be miserable.”
“No, no, fuck-” Carmen is feeling desperate now. Her bags were packed. She had made up her mind about this, she was leaving him, just like Mikey did, just like his friends. He had pushed her away just like he did everyone. “You make me happy , so fucking happy, I’ve just been, shit, I’ve just been stressed! I’m sorry, please, you can’t-’
“Carmen, look at me.” He can’t. “Look at me, please.” She’s still holding his hands in hers and she squeezes, getting his attention. “I’m not leaving . I’m just going . It’s different.” Her phone buzzes and she looks down at it and sighs. No. No, no, no . “My cabs here, Carmen. Look, I’m just gonna be at my place, okay? I’ll be a phone call away if you need me.”
She goes to stand and he sucks in a breath as if he’s just surfaced from the ocean. “No! I need you, I do!”
“Please don’t do this to me, Carmen.” He’s still holding onto her hand tightly, his eyes wild. “You can’t…You don’t get to pull this now that I’m going. You said what you said and you never apologized until you saw my bags packed. You don’t get to say you need me when it’s clear you don’t.”
She pulls her hand away from him finally, slipping on her shoes and grabbing her keys, slipping them into her pocket. Carmen turns on the couch to face her, body slumped over on himself. She looks at him, eyes full of pity, and he can see her debating on whether or not she should stay. “Please,” He thinks, begging her in his mind. “Please don’t leave me.”
“I love you, okay? What you said hurt me, but I still love you. I have to go, though. For both of us.”
“I love you, too, Brooklyn. So much.” She takes a step towards him, kissing him on the top of his head. “I’m so fucking sorry.”
“I know you are, honey.” And then her hands off of him and she’s grabbing her things and he’s watching her leave out of his apartment, shutting the door tightly behind her. And he was alone. For the first time in months, Carmen was completely and utterly alone.
It takes two weeks and three days for Carmen to truly break. He had been used to the loneliness that seemed to follow him, had dealt with it for years before moving back home to Chicago and had gone months before he had met her. He could handle this. He could handle the two of them being friends again, he was sure of it.
But then she stopped showing up at the restaurant. She stopped letting Tatianna know an excuse to feed Carmen, though he never believed it anyways, about why she couldn't join when she visited Richie. She stopped answering his late night drunk texts and eventually stopped answering his sober ones too. She cut him out of her life and he knew he deserved it, knew he deserved to feel so fucking awful, but he hated it.
He missed her so fucking much it made him sick. He’d wake up, stomach in knots, body already keenly aware of the fact that she was no longer there. Carmen was losing weight like crazy, too nauseous to eat but running himself ragged in an attempt to distract himself. He was at work from open to close, getting there early and staying late to continue working because being at his apartment was too much for him.
Carmen had attempted to get information out of Tatianna and Richie, begged them near tears to just tell him that she was doing okay without him, that she was happy, but they wouldn’t budge. Finally, after annoying her for the fourth day in a row, Tatianna finally snapped, dragging him into his office and giving him an earful about what he did to her.
“She’s a fucking mess, Carmy,” She said finally, shaking her head at him. Richie was right outside the door listening in, making sure no one else tried to eavesdrop. “She loves you so fucking much and it kills her to see you because you’re a fucking mess too and she wants to help you because she’s a good person but you punished her for that. You need to figure out if you want her back because you love her or because you love the shit she did for you.”
Carmen sat in the office the rest of the day, only coming out every two hours to do checks on everyone’s station. Sydney and Richie had been great throughout this, working together somehow to keep the place from falling apart without making Carmen feel like an even bigger waste of space than he felt.
“You need to figure out if you want her back because you love her or because you love the shit she did for you.” The words repeat in his head all day and he questions himself, staring at the paper-covered wall of the office. He did miss the things she did for him, he knew that. It wasn’t until she left that he realized the full extent of what she did; bringing him lunch on busy days so he wouldn’t have to leave, putting his keys by the front door when he would throw them wherever the hell he wanted when he got home, keeping the apartment tidy so he didn’t have another headache when he got home.
And she did all of that and more without a word, a complaint, or an ask. She did it with a smile on her face because she loved him so fucking much she just wanted to make his days easier. Fuck, she would take time out of her day and come to the restaurant, almost 20 minutes away from either of their places, just to help out. Carmen can’t count the times she had stayed after with him scrubbing the greasy tiles on her hands and knees in complete silence with him.
And what did he do for her? Call her suffocating . She wasn’t. She was a breath of fresh air that he needed, that he craved, and she was gone. He hasn’t heard her voice in 14 days exactly and he realizes that’s what he misses the most.
He misses talking to her, listening to her talk about something as he did something else, listening to her funny stories and cute laugh and dumb jokes and he misses seeing her laugh and he fucking misses being the reason she was laughing.
In his self reflection he realizes that he misses her , though, not just the things she did for him. He misses her as a person. Her laugh, her excitement over the small things, coming home to her making small handmade gifts for people who didn’t deserve them covered in paint and glue and a smile at the kitchen table. He misses smelling her perfume on his bed when she got up in the middle of the night after trying her hardest to be quiet when she left the bed.
He misses her funky earrings and the stationary items she left throughout the apartment and her makeup that covered his dresser drawers and the way she had to buy a pack of the fun socks whenever they went to the store together. He misses the hard things about being with her, too.
Carmen misses her mood swings, her insecurities, her temper. He missed the mess she’d leave in her wake when she was hyper-focused on something, he missed having to remind her to eat and drink and sleep and he missed making her talk to him when she was too frustrated too and he missed proving to her that he loved her because of those things, not in spite of them.
Somewhere along the line he had stumbled, lost his footing, forgotten how much he needed her. Not in a possessive, if-I-can’t-have-you-no-one-else-can way but in a I-need-you-more-than-oxygen kind of way. By the time Carmen had truly come to terms with the mistake he made hurting her, everyone was gone. He was the last one in the restaurant, the office light the only one on. He was alone.
He missed the last train back home so he had to splurge on a cab, only able to tip the driver a few dollars on top of the fare. When he gets home, it's empty, just like he expected, but now he knows the extent of what he lost. Carmen doesn't bother locking his front door, just kicks his shoes off and flops down onto the couch, grabbing the throw blanket and placing it over himself. He breathes in deep, tears pricking at his eyes; Her. It smelled like her.
He falls asleep easily but can’t stay asleep, wakes up every hour with his heart thumping out of his chest and her name the only thing on his mind. At 4:29 he wakes up screaming. He hadn’t done that in a while, not since sleeping with her consistently, and the second his eyes snap open he’s running for the bathroom, fear and adrenaline coursing through his veins.
He barely makes it to the bathroom before he’s sick, throwing up bile. He forgot to eat today. He sits there, head hanging over the toilet for another five minutes, shaking and crying. He can’t remember the dream he had, or who was involved or what happened but all he knows is that he needs her to hold him and to tell him it’ll be ok. She was the only one who knew about his nightmares, their severity and intensity and the fact they made him sick for days after.
Carmen doesn't think, he just grabs his keys and shoes and goes, hoping he can find a cab but resigning himself to a walk if necessary. His phone stays on the couch where he had left it in his haste, his jacket on the counter too. It was freezing in Chicago, especially at 4am, but he didn’t focus on the cold.
He finds her apartment easily, without a second thought. Before they had started dating he had walked her home every night, telling her the train came later than it did so she wouldn’t huff at him for missing it. When she finally found out that he had been lying to her and making the trek in the middle of the night she made him stay over, sleeping in the same bed as him because she couldn’t bear to let him sleep on the couch.
She’s asleep. He knows that when he knocks, knows he won’t get an answer, but he still happens to hold his breath and wait when he does. For a moment he hears nothing and then the lock is turning and the door is opening and there she is.
She was wearing her pajamas -- a pair of Christmas dog sweatpants she had stolen from her sister and had tried to buy a matching pair for Carmen (why didn’t he let her buy him a pair? She was excited over it,) an oversized T-Shirt, and a pair of socks with bears on them that she had bought for him, a pair he never wore. She doesn’t say anything when she opens the door, just stares at him. He could only imagine what he looked like right now and was ever grateful that she didn’t shut the door in his face right then and there.
“Please?” It’s all Carmen can get out, his voice cracking and his head falling into his hands. He doesn’t have to say anything more because she knows this look far too well.
“Carmen, fuck, come in here.” She says, wrapping her arms around him and pulling him in for a tight hug. It’s like he can breathe again. He’s suddenly surrounded by her smell and his head is clearing and though he’s sobbing it’s no longer because of his awful nightmare -- though that’s part of it -- it’s because he’s with her again. “A nightmare?”
He nods, hiccupping as he tries to respond, letting her maneuver his body around the apartment until she's helping him sit on the couch with her. “Don’t, can’t talk-” She shushes him, hand brushing through his hair, rocking him side to side and he feels so fucking loved it’s enough to make him cry harder.
“S’okay, honey, don’t have to talk. Just… I’m glad you came to see me.” She doesn’t want to think about Carmen trying to deal with this alone right now, not when he’s in her arms struggling to breathe and holding onto her for dear life. “It’s ok, I’m here.”
“Thank you.” He whispers it, both unable to say it louder and too embarrassed to repeat himself but he can sense her smile. For the next two hours they sit like this, him in her arms, her consoling him, whispering soothing words, until he’s calm. “Feel fuckin’ stupid,” He mutters against her chest and she huffs. They had gone from sitting upright to lounging against the armrest of the chair, his ear pressed against her chest where her heart is.
“Don’t call yourself stupid.” They fall into silence once more and she focuses on his breathing, thankful that it finally evened itself out. “How’ve you been? Besides this, I mean?”
Carmen debates answering honestly. She always knows when he’s lying, has caught him in lie after lie before, but if he was honest about how miserable he was he knows she’d blame herself. “Not too great.”
“M’sorry.”
“Not your fault. My fault, really. How about you? You look great.”
She laughs and he almost starts crying again; it’s been a long time since he heard that. “I bet I look great through blurry and swollen eyes. I’ve been…” He knows she’s deciding on whether or not to lie too. If she lies, he’ll accept it. He’ll know it’s not the truth but he also knows he’s lost the right to question her. She deflated slightly, hand running through his hair again. “Not too great, either. I’ve missed you a lot.”
“You have?” She hums and he sits up slightly, staring at her. “I’ve missed you too. So much. I… I know I’ve apologized already but I don’t think it’ll be enough.”
“Carmen-’
“No, I need to say this. Please.” She falls silent, staring at him with sleepy eyes and nods for him to continue. “I fucked up. I hurt you in the worst way possible because… because I’m not happy with myself . I took your kindness and twisted it into something else because I felt like I didn’t deserve it and I still don’t think I did, or do, especially now, but it was wrong to hurt you.
“Tatianna kind of kicked my ass into gear today with making me really think everything through. I knew I was wrong, knew that from the start, but I never really sat with my decision and shit the way I should’ve. But I did. And I let myself feel, you know, the way you always tell me to. And I realize that you are the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”
She shakes her head quickly, attempting to stop him. “I’m not, you can’t-”
“But you are! I mean, you’ve been out of my life for 17 days and I’m a mess. I can’t think, I can’t sleep, I can’t eat. And maybe it’s not healthy, not being able to be me without you, but I don’t care. I miss you. I miss everything about you, and not just the things that you did for me, which, fuck, you did a lot for me, by the way.” She snorts, covering up the fact she was tearing up.
“I miss that stuff too but I can live without that. I can live without you ever doing another thing for me but I can’t live without you , not again.”
“It hurts.” She chokes, looking at him. He’s grabbing her hands now, much like she had the last night they saw each other, and squeezing. “It hurts to see you because I remember what you said and I feel like I deserved it.”
His grip on her hands tightens. “You didn’t.” Her eyebrows raise; his voice was deadly serious, no waiver or room for disagreement. “You didn’t deserve any of the shit I put you through and you were right to dump my ass. You don’t need to take me back. You shouldn't take me back, in all honesty. But I guess… I guess I’m still selfish and asking for you to think about it. I just can’t leave here without knowing that I’ll be able to see you again, no matter the circumstance, friends or not.”
Carmen watches, heart thumping in his chest, and she mulls it over. He wants her to say yes, that she loves him so much, that she needs him back. He wants her to tell him to fuck off and get out. He wants her to do what she needs to for herself, not for him, even if it’ll fucking kill him.
“I’ll try. That’s the best I can offer right now, Carmen.”
“It’s more than I deserve. Thank you, Brooklyn.” He kisses the top of her hand before pressing it against his face, his eyes closing. “Is it alright if I crash here? I have work in a few hours and I don’t think going home right now would be very wise.”
She snorts, nodding, and stands. “Course you can. I’ll yell at you about the lack of a jacket tomorrow.” She squeezes his shoulder gently with a smile, one he can’t help but return, and walks off back towards her bedroom. Carmen takes in a deep breath, a huge weight lifted from his shoulders. A chance. That’s all he needed. “Carmen?”
“Yeah?” He stops settling into the couch, holding onto one of the couch pillows. She was standing in her hallway nervously, rubbing at her arm, glancing back behind her to her bedroom and then back at Carmen.
“Do you want to sleep in here with me? I feel bad making you sleep on the couch.”
“A…are you sure?” She nods. Carmen stands up, following behind her. He’s been in her apartment hundreds of times before, but it was new territory to him again, an uncertain place. Her bed was set up exactly how he remembered it. She crawls in on the right side, sinking down under the covers. Carmen slips in beside her, facing towards her in the dark. He can’t make out her features, just the vague outline of her facing him as well. “Thank you.”
She hums. “Goodnight, Carmen,” She says before she rolls over.
“Goodnight, Brooklyn.” Carmen rolls over too, his back facing her. He has a dreamless sleep. A peaceful sleep.
When her alarm goes off in the morning and he opens his eyes, he’s staring into her own. “Good morning.” She says shyly, quickly turning over to grab her phone and turn the alarm off. “Did you sleep alright?”
“Yeah,” He answers truthfully, a small smile. All he needed was a chance.