The old door creaked open out into the windy Oklahoma night, causing Melissa to step back on the rickety porch, worrying the unstable panels of wood. The house had fallen farther into disrepair over the two years she'd been gone, weeds consuming the yard, paint almost completely chipped, the windows' screens cut buy foot-wide holes. She was surprised the neighbors hadn't filed a complaint, or forcefully thrown Rex out.

There he was, standing just inside the house, tall and thin as ever. His shaggy hair had grown back in, almost covering his eyes, and sticking up in all directions, as if he'd just woken up. He wore a black button-down and jeans, his usual attire.

The expression on his face was not particularly amorous, or longing, or surprised. He'd known she was coming—the midnighters had run out of money, of will, and of stamina, needing to come back to Bixby to stay or at least recuperate. No one dared go back to their own homes, however, to the parents that thought them dead or kidnapped.

Staying with Dess, what with her sane parents and all, was out of the question. Jonathan was going to sleep in the one other small bedroom in Madeleine's house, and Melissa was to stay with Rex.

However, he looked confused.

She could taste it in his mind. Hers mirrored his confusion, doubts on what to do, what to say. The first few months of the road trip, Melissa had imagined them embracing in relief at the first sight of each other, falling immediately and more intensely back into their relationship.

However, things had changed as time went on. They didn't communicate much, calls falling from once a week to once a month to once every few months. She'd thought about him often, and him about her, but as time went on without each other, they'd begun to view each other as lost loves.

"Hey, Rex." She managed to get out, cracking a smile. The words felt odd on her lips. Despite their time apart, whatever had been between them warranted more than a simple greeting—but a hug? For Melissa, this was an intimate gesture, and she didn't want to force this action on Rex's unsure mind.

He battled with the same problem, stifling it with his words. "Hey… Melissa. It's been a long time." I missed you, he thought, accidentally.

Melissa had missed him too, but she wasn't going to say it. It was one thing to think things, another to announce them, because behind every announcement is a purpose, whereas thoughts are just… thoughts.

Vaguely, Melissa noticed that he'd used her real name, rather than her old nickname.

She was suddenly struck with the terrible image of her standing needily on his doorstep, forcing herself into his home.

She ignored the thought; she knew, and felt, that Rex was happy to help, no matter how uncomfortable it made him feel.

Rex asked her to come in, and she followed him down the familiar hallway, so memorized she could run it with her eyes closed. She lifted her long dress to avoid it from catching the dust on the floor—she'd long ago ditched the unnecessary things, but some spark of sentimentality in her made her choose to wear the dress that day.

The hall opened into the kitchen and living room, which was empty of people—the old man must have been in his barely-used bedroom.

Melissa dropped her bag next to his couch. "Home, sweet home," she said, sarcastically, and then regretted her words. They implied that she was to stay at his house for a while. She corrected them before Rex had the chance to even think over her latest statement. "For the moment, anyway."

"You could have taken my bed," Rex offered, uncomfortably. "You haven't had one in two years, so I figured…"

"Don't worry about it," she said. "We used to sleep at motels a lot, before money ran low. And I don't want to kick you out of your bed. This is great." Better than sleeping in his bed, anyway. She was sure it'd be comfy, but the awkwardness of sleeping where he slept overwhelmed her mind.

A faint whisper from deep inside Rex remembered that in the first months after her leave, he'd imagined them sharing a bed—innocently of course, but at that point, somehow, it'd seemed like a reasonable idea.

"Rex—" The name escaped her lips with more emotion than anything she'd said yet. She covered the slip by collapsing onto the far end of the couch, bringing her feet up with her. "How… are you?"
He knew what she meant, of course. A main worry on both of their minds before her leave was how Rex would cope with his darkling side without Melissa's human touch.

"I'm fine," he said, his mind reeking of sour milk. "I'm doing okay."

You're lying, she thought to herself.

"That's great!" She drummed her fingers along her thigh in the silence. "Do you think you might ever get completely better?"

There was a moment's hesitation, ended with one forced, quiet word. "Maybe." He traced his finger over a crack in the couch, not looking at her. Their lack of communication was like a heavy weight on her chest. How had their relationship deteriorated to so little? "I'm gonna… get a drink." He turned towards the kitchen, rummaging the cabinets for a clean glass.

Melissa almost hit herself. She was acting like such a fake idiot, with the guy she had known for ten years, her best and oldest friend. If not emotion, he at least deserved some honesty.

"This is bullshit."

Rex turned around sharply, almost dropping the glass he'd found.

"We both know you're not better, so let's quit screwing around, okay?"

Rex turned away from her, filling up his cup in the sink. The taste of anger emanated off of him in waves.

Her eyes widened. "God, Rex, I didn't mean—"

"I'm going to Madeleine's," he said suddenly. "Can't trust Jonathan to feed her right. See you later, I guess."

He almost ran down the hallway, grabbing his coat and slamming the door behind him.

All she could taste was that he couldn't wait to get away from her.