Her sad wave goodbye plagues him alongside memories of those he lost to time. If they are the weight on his shoulders, that wave is the anvil on his chest. And as he crawls into bed that night, it's suffocating.
It still is when his phone rings at 3:00am. "Miko."
"Were you asleep?" Her voice is soft, uncertain.
"No."
"Oh, good. Well, not good that you can't sleep, but—"
"Hush." Exhaustion suddenly crippling, he hits the speaker and sets the phone on his pillow. "Just sleep."
It's what she needed.
"Th-Thank you."
"Goodnight, Miko."
"Sweet dreams."
Surprisingly, they are.
