July, 2019

After turning out the light that night, I didn't lay down straight away. Instead, I sat up, staring at the darkness until my eyes adjusted and could make out the shapes around me. While I knew Erica's revelation was misguided hope, I still wanted to be sure.

If I just don't give into my thoughts.

If I stay lucid tonight...

Nothing will come to comfort me.

Then I can put to rest this stupid thought I keep having that it's been him by my side since Ben left. That he was daring this darkness with me, despite our current differences.

I don't know how long I sat like that, back against the bed frame, eyes staring into the nothingness, but eventually my eyes started to feel heavy.

See? He was never here.

He hates you just the same still.

You're alone. Just as you were then. Just as you are now. Just as you always will—

The door creaked open, light spilling in as a figure crept into my room, filling the space with static.

"It's really you," I whispered.

He jumped, pausing as he stood by my bed, almost as if considering running for it.

Yet then he did the unexpected.

Heaving a sigh, he kicked off his shoes, peeled off his shirt, and unfastened his pants before climbing into bed with me in nothing but his boxer shorts. "I'm glad to see you're not crying. But you really should sleep. It's late."

"It's been you this whole time."

He paused, then tensed. "Were you thinking I was Ben this whole time?"

I shook my head. "I'd always hoped it was you. But I was sure it was a figment of my imagination. That I'd gone that mad..."

I saw his shoulders relax before he wound an arm around me and pulled me down into the bed. "If you'd known you'd gone mad, why didn't you tell somebody?"

"Who tells people they've gone mad?"

"Who's mad and knows they're mad?"

"... I'm afraid I can't follow this conversation anymore."

He breathed a chuckle before tightening his hold on me. All the while my nose relished in his sandalwood and vanilla scent washing over me.

I wanted to continue to enjoy the moment. Of him, holding me again. Of us civil.

But if things were okay between us, "If you've been coming here every night, why did you react like that to me today?"

"It's late, Olivia. Let's sleep."

I winced at my name—free from affection—exiting his mouth. "I'd rather talk."

"I don't want to talk right now. I want to sleep."

"Then go sleep elsewhere."

"What?"

"It's not that I don't want you here... but if you're going to act like you hate me, why also do this?"

"So you'd rather I leave?"

"That's not what I'm saying. I'm saying I want to talk."

"Not now, Olivia."

"Then when?"

"I don't know, okay? But it's late and I just want to sleep. So make up your mind. Do you want me here or not?"

"... I do want you here. But I also want to talk."

"For crying out—"

"We could be halfway through the conversation by—"

"Have you considered I'm not ready?"

"... Not ready to talk, but you're ready to hold me at night?"

"...I can't help it."

"You're saying it's the bond making you do this?"

"I guess."

His admission felt like acid was being thrown at me.

So it's not necessarily that he wants me... but that the bond is making him want me. If he could have it any other way, he'd avoid me.

I wriggled out of his grasp to the other side of the bed, curling up into the ball of frequently found myself in each night.

"Ol—" His hands chased after me, yet I flinched away.

"Go to sleep," I mumbled.

"Not if you're not going to sleep."

"Why do you even care?"

"... Seriously? I come here every night, don't I?"

"Because the bond makes you."

Once again, he sighed, then scooted over to me, arms wrapping around me despite my protests. "That came out wrong."

"Mhmm."

"... You say I act like I hate you, but you blow pretty hot and cold with me yourself, you know."

"I'm sorry," I mumbled back, voice lacking conviction.

The room fell into a silence, whereby neither of us said anything.

When he barely moved or made a sound, I started to assume he had fallen asleep.

How? How can he just drift off after that?

My eyes started to sting as the loneliness filled me once more.

I tried carefully wedging myself out of his grips, hoping to not disturb him before the panic set in, yet his hold tightened in response.

"Shhh," he hushed in my ear. "Stop thinking and sleep."

"I can't," I croaked.

"Just close your eyes, relax, and I'll cast a spell to—"

"I don't want you to cast a spell."

He sighed, finally releasing his hold. "Then how can I help, Olivia? Do you want me to go?"

"I already told you... I don't want you to leave. And I want to talk."

"... We will. I'm just not ready yet."

"I don't under—" I started to sit up, ready to fight, ready for flight.

His hands reached out for me, pulling me back onto the bed before he rolled on top of me. "Shh," he hushed me again, before his lips pressed atop my head.

My heart shivered, relaxing momentarily.

"After we've got the Made... Let's try to talk then, okay? I just... need to not be distracted right now."

"Then why come to me who only distracts and complicates things for you?"

"Because... it's eating me inside being apart from you." His lips pressed against me again, this time slowly dancing along my neck.

And this time, my whole body shivered. "Then stop avoiding me already."

"If I stop, you will want to talk. And, as I said—"

"You're not ready."

"Exactly." His lips started working over my collar bone.

The tension in my body finally exited as he made his way up the other side of my neck.

Though just as I started to give myself over to him, he stopped.

"Let's sleep now," he whispered, pulling me once again into his embrace.

We laid quietly again, the tick of the fan above me the only noise in the room other than his long, deep breaths and my quickly quickening ones.

It was too quiet.

Too still.

And the unanswered questions screamed in my mind, begging to be voiced, to be discussed.

"You're still not sleeping," he eventually disturbed the silence.

"I can't," I mumbled, hating that his superb hearing gave me away.

"Can I help? Other than talking about everything... because then we won't sleep tonight at all."

"I don't know..."

"That sleeping spell is still on offer?"

"No... I don't want you to force me to sleep."

"Then what can I—"

"It was nice before... when you were kissing my neck."

"I can do that again," he breathed on my cheek, before starting to plant kisses up and down my right side.

The tension was quickly easing again as I relished in his touch, but some of the thoughts of doubt were still sneaking through.

It's just the bond making him want to do this.

It's just because of the bond that he's here.

He won't talk to me because he doesn't want me anymore.

He hates me.

He blames me.

It's all my fault.

"Perhaps a backrub?" he then intruded my thoughts, clearly sensing I had tensed again.

I shook my head before rolling over to face him, staring at whatever features of his I could make out in the darkness. "I think that will still give me too much room to think."

"... Well, I'm out of ideas."

Which was when an idea, an urge, slammed into my head in the absence of his lips against my flesh.

I miss his affection.

If he gives me more... perhaps I can forget that things are off between us.

If he just proves that some things are still right between us... that he still wants me or needs me in other ways...

He won't.

Don't ask it.

You'll just be rejected again.

"Perhaps... you could make love to me?" I asked, feeling vulnerable as seconds ticked on without a reply.

____

Oop! What will Lukas respond with?