Chapter Text
When Mike opens his eyes, he feels some sort of dust settle on his face - almost like a caress. The room is warm and comfortably stiff. It’s a cold sunny morning, and the sunlight slips through the gaps in the window shades. Particles drift in and out of visibility, glowing in the sunbeams and disappearing as they sink back into the darkness.
Nick's here. They wake up in the same bed, shoulders touching, eyes and foreheads barely peeking out from under the same warm blanket. It’s not unusual for them to wake up like this, it’s a matter of warmth during the coldest days of the year.
“Look at all the dust,” says Nick, his voice coarse from sleep, “It’s like it's dancing.”
Mike laughs. He doesn’t even glance at Nick but he can feel him smiling. He can almost smell it, the tranquil joy surrounding them. He searches for Nick’s hand to tenderly squeeze before getting up to make breakfast. It’s not where it usually is. It’s not anywhere. He lifts the covers away and finds no one beside him at all.
The room is twice as dusty. The calendar he swears he just saw in his peripheral vision disappears when he looks at it. Until he remembers it’s dead on the floor, torn off the wall and kicked like an unwanted stray, obsolete by three years.
Reality creeps in like gray ash dumped in the sea. Clouding everything and wringing all the life out.