He's been spending a lot of time in bed lately, ever since the funeral. Sleeping is a lot easier than being awake when your every conscious moment means being consumed by misery. Loss follows like a shadow, grief hits like a freight train and never lets ups, not entirely.
Lysander hasn't changed his clothes in days. He only brushes his hair when he feels it start to matte and even that is an effort. His appetite is gone and he only remembers to eat when dizziness sets in. He's not living, he's just going through the motions.
When he finally showers it's because Castiel forces him to, pushing him into the bathroom with a set of towels. It's been so long since he's washed his hair the shampoo barely bubbles and foams. The warmth eases his tired body and his tears are indistinguishable from the water raining down on him. But relief is all too brief as he has to step back into his reality. He steps out of the shower and the cold air hits him with a sting. It almost feels good to have a physical pain to match what's going on in his head.
How can life go on when a loved one's life ends?
He should be used to feeling like this by now, but he can't believe he's lost Leigh too.
