Chapter Text
You stared at the ceiling, lying in your bed, and sighed. The lights in the bedroom were dim, and the clacking of computer keys echoed through your shared penthouse. Corbeau’s voice was audible, but he was mumbling; the words he was saying were further obscured by the wall separating his home office from your bedroom.
You just couldn’t sleep. You looked at the spot next to you — completely empty, and cold, as it had been for many nights as of late. Corbeau was frequently going to bed later and later each night. He always came home to you at a decent hour, but once he’d said his greetings, he would go hole up in his office. He’d stay on the phone with Philippe and work for hours on end, speaking just lightly enough that you could hear his voice but not the words he spoke. The dinner you made for him would always go cold, and he didn’t seem to notice when you eventually stopped making them altogether. Sometimes, he’d even fall asleep in his office, not realizing how much he’d tired himself out.
He was home, but you still missed him.
You slowly rolled out of the bed, shivering as you abandoned the warmth of the duvet. The icy hardwood floor under your feet furthered the sensation, and you stood for just a moment, flexing your toes as you adjusted to the room’s temperature.
You slowly tiptoed your way out of the bedroom and into the hallway, trying to move as silently as you could, running your hands along the wall for support as your eyes adjusted to the darkness. As you inched closer, you could hear his voice a bit better; the voice you had missed so dearly. Then, you’d reached the doorframe. You lifted your hand, hesitating for just a moment, and then lightly tapped your knuckles against the office door. “Come in,” he spoke.
The door creaked slightly as you opened it and leaned against the doorframe. You squinted — all of the lights in his office were still on at full brightness. His Rotom phone was held up to his ear by his shoulder, and his typing slowed as he tapped a button on the phone. He didn’t turn to acknowledge you, leaving an uncomfortable ache in your chest.
“Beau?” You called.
He remained facing his computer, though he was no longer typing. “Yes, princess?” He sounded tired. Your stomach twisted, and you held a hand up to your chest, running your thumb over your knuckles in an attempt to ease your nerves. You swallowed. “Why don’t you get ready for bed and come lie down with me?” His back still faced you, and the rest of your words slowed, trailing off in a near whisper. “It’s late.”
He sighed harshly, running a hand through his hair. Your heart dropped.
He’d missed you, too, but he truly was too busy in the moment to go to bed. With everything he had to take care of during the day, the sharp increase in threats against Quasartico Inc., and the additional projects he’d begun in the evenings just over a month ago, his work was never-ending. There was nothing he wanted more than to spend time with you, but that was a luxury he didn’t seem to have.
“I’m nearly finished, I’ll be there in a bit.” The words came out icy and unfeeling; he spoke in his ‘work tone’, which he rarely used on you, knowing how much it bothered you. He hadn’t even realized he’d spoken to you that way. Your breathing hitched, and your eyes burned; before you knew it, tears had begun to well.
You hated how pathetic you felt in the moment — you know he didn’t mean to hurt you or even speak to you that way, but it had become too much alongside the fact that he wouldn’t look at you. You turned away and slammed the office door shut, causing Corbeau to flinch.
Dammit, he sighed to himself.
You wiped under your eyes as you stormed back to your bedroom, collecting the few tears that had fallen and brushing them away in one swift motion. You flopped onto the bed, kicking the covers around in frustration before realizing how cold it was and pulling them up over your body. You grabbed Corbeau’s pillow and clutched it tightly — allowing it to take up the space in your arms you wished he would.
You positioned it upward, about where his chest would be, and nuzzled your face into it.
It didn’t reciprocate your warmth. It didn’t have a heartbeat. It didn’t whisper your praises or embrace you like he would; all the cold fabric could do was absorb your tears as they lulled you to sleep.
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About 2 hours later, you slowly opened your eyes. You felt your eyelids swell, and the pillow you had held onto so desperately was long gone — somewhere on the floor where you didn’t care to find it. You aimlessly reached out next to you, your hand touching a few different spots on the nightstand before landing on your phone. You gripped it in your hands and squinted as the light from the device attacked your already-agitated eyes.
1:00 AM
You could still hear Corbeau on the phone with Philippe, and the endless clacking that rang throughout your home. You gritted your teeth — you’d had enough of the noise. You tossed the covers aside and marched to his office.
This time, you didn’t knock. You twisted the knob and flung the door open. Corbeau sat frozen, shocked by your actions. You walked up to him, brows furrowed and arms crossed.
“What are you-“ You cut him off, raising your voice slightly. “Corbeau.” He shrank in his seat — he realized he’d truly messed up. You only said his name like that when you were really angry. “Put the phone on speaker.”
He fumbled with the phone as his shoulder dropped, narrowly preventing it from hitting the ground. He tapped the speaker button and held the phone out towards you. “Philippe.” “Yes, ma’am.” “It’s time for both of you to go to bed.”
Philippe responded quickly from the other end, “I understand. Goodnight, madame.” “Goodnight, Philippe.” You spoke coldly, harshly tapping the phone to end the call. “And you.” Maintaining eye contact with Corbeau, you closed his laptop. The vein in his forehead showed itself for just a moment. “Go get out of those clothes and come to bed. Now.” He shuddered.
“Understood, sweetheart.” As he rose from his seat, he pressed his lips gently to your temple; a failed effort to subdue your rage.
Once he left the room, you returned to your bedroom, flicking the lights on before sitting upright on your bed. You vowed to yourself that you wouldn’t go to sleep until you were sure he’d actually listened to you.
Within minutes, he returned from the bathroom in a loose black t-shirt and boxers with hair still damp and a towel in hand. He sat on the edge of the bed, offering you the towel and a guilty look. “You jerk…” You muttered, snatching the towel from him as you sat on your knees. You gently dried his hair with the towel, and his eyes fluttered shut. He savored every minute of your touch. He’d missed moments like these, and so had you.
When his hair was mostly dry, you took the towel and threw it to the floor. You could see Corbeau about to get up to put the towel away, and tugged the hem of his shirt. He looked back at you, and you spoke softly to him. “It’ll still be there in the morning. Come lie down.” He immediately sat back down before tucking himself under the covers. His head met the mattress, and he turned to you yet again, brows knitted. “Where did my pillow go?” Your answer came in the form of an averted gaze before getting up to turn the lights off, before quietly slipping back under the duvet.
You wiggled around, making yourself comfortable. After you’d settled, he pulled you close to his chest, and you nuzzled into the warmth of his body. This is what you’d been looking for; what his pillow couldn’t offer. You wrapped your free arm around him as you spoke.
“Beau?”
“Mhm?” He hummed. You swallowed, feeling a lump grow in your throat.
“It’s been lonely without you.”
You hardly managed to get the words out before you began to tear up again, quiet sobs wracking your body. He rubbed your back, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “You’re just so… busy.” You sniffled. “I get it, I do, just…” You pulled away slightly and looked up at him, trying to meet his eyes in the dark room. You took his face into your palm and stroked his cheek with your thumb. He felt his chest tighten. He resented himself for making you feel that way; making you feel alone when he was right at home with you. Then, he made a silent vow as he pulled you in once more — he’d never do it again.
“Don’t forget to set aside some time for me, okay?”