What I Own: A copy of Vitamin String Quartet's tribute to MCR, nearly pink hair and a pair of over the knee flat brown boots.
What I Don't: Rookie Blue. Nope, not mine. SURPRISE!
Author's Note: Well. This wasn't supposed to happen. But it did because my muse is an elegant, cold-hearted whore and she likes to make me do things to alienate my beautiful readers that I love to death. So this… yeah. It isn't happy, not at all really and I have no idea where it is going. It breaks my feels. It is McCollins, feel free to not read. That is your choice but I would love it if you'd stick around. This isn't beta'd because that is pretty much how I roll. The song for this chapter is 'Me and My Charms' by Kristin Hersh, specifically the strings version. It gives me chills. The song for the whole story is Sweet Talk Radio's cover of 'Will You Still Love Me Tomorrow.' Check it out, it is amazing. Reviews make me smile like Missy in Maui and are rewarded with babble, praise and sneak peeks of a story of your choice cause I know this isn't all y'alls cup of vodka. Questions, comments and song suggestions are more than welcome via PM or on Twitter, I am a big lurker lately but I love talking with all y'all. Anyway, enough of my babbling. Happy reading and I hope you enjoy.
I shouldn't be here. I shouldn't be anywhere right now except for my own bed, asleep.
But I'm not.
I was, but it was brief. The moments of darkness were fractured by haunting images, flashes of red and blue, wide, empty eyes and tears. And screams. Can't forget those. They were all so real that I could almost feel the warmth, hear the echoes in my ears.
Then again, that is because they were. In the three weeks since the funeral, I had averaged maybe four hours of sleep a night, broken and interspersed with the nightmares. Every. Single. Night. Except for that first one. That night I slept dreamlessly.
Sometimes they were worse than others, of course. Tonight though, tonight was the worst. My throat ached from the screams. I'd tried to get back to sleep but it didn't work, it never did. So I left.
Three AM and I am standing outside the door, dripping wet and freezing, listening to the soft music that floats through the door. I'm not knocking, though I don't know why. Maybe he'll just magically know I'm here?
I don't even know how I ended up here I just… did. I have no clue what I was hoping for as I stood in the dim porch light, shifting back and forth nervously in my soaked trainers that had suddenly become interesting.
The door opened and I jerked my head up to meet familiar brown eyes. They were haunted, the dark, bruise-like circles matching my own, the ones that not even a heavy hand with cover-up could hide.
"I couldn't sleep." My voice was slightly hoarse, and my throat burned from the screams that had woken me.
He didn't say anything, just nodded and stepped back in a silent invitation, which I took. I could feel his eyes on me after he shut the door and I glanced back at him while I toed off my shoes and stripped my sopping hoodie over my head, shrugging as he leaned against the door.
"It's raining." The words were simple and overwhelmingly obvious, the first thing to spring to mind and I saw just a hint of a smile tug at the corner of his lips.
"I'll get you something you can change into, maybe a warm sho-" His voice trailed off as I plopped to the hardwood floor, tugging on my wet socks and tank and adding them to the pile of wet clothes. Whatever the opposite of gracefully was? That was what I was.
I wasn't modest, never really had been, and saw very little point in it, especially with someone who had already seen you naked. He was, as always, a gentleman and dropped his eyes as I stood, shimmying out of my wet yoga pants and kicking them aside.
"I haven't really slept since the funeral." My voice wavered and my eyes stung as the memories came rushing back, as though they weren't always there just waiting. I didn't have the strength to fight them, not anymore, and I felt a tear slide down my cheek. "Help me sleep?" The words were small, almost a whisper, although the meaning behind them was clear and I watched as it registered in his eyes.
He looked hesitant, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck and glancing down at the wet mess on his pristine floor. "Andy, I-"
"Please?" I did whisper this time, a nearly silent plea as another tear joined the first and I was quickly wrapped in strong warm arms, quiet words whispered into my damp hair.
"Anything."