Matt was never easy to please. Grace got used to that fact rather quickly. Matt pushed her to go the extra mile, he got out the best of her, but sad to say, sometimes the worst was never far behind. Grace knew Matt cared about her or at least needed her on some fundamental level, he proved that over a thousand times. But Grace just couldn't make him look at her like she was a capable writer. Not the way he viewed Bert.

The bitter pill Matt forced her to swallow started to wore off. There was no place for her self-loathing anymore, she was coming home to Bert. With every step she took, she shoved her disappointment deeper and deeper inside, her mood was becoming lighter. She made space for Bert's happy mood, she wouldn't dare ruin it for him. He was goofy, but ecstatic Bert was a rare sight to see. The moment she ended up in a room with him, it being her only wish, everything had to be about him.

She tried to call him that she was already on her way but he didn't respond. And for the first time in forever she took it as a good sign. He was probably neck deep in his mind board, putting up new characters, settings, matching the relations with strings and making the whole board light up with neon post it notes. The board with the vision for his story was the whole wall in their living room. They pushed the TV aside, hardly using it anymore, all they did was talking about his books, about the trilogy that was his masterpiece. Book one was a tremendous success, book two was almost finished and book three was still in the doings and that was why he was so excited he found the missing piece that bound them all together for a breathtaking ending. Grace thought nothing less of his excitement.

Bert's creative process took all the space and time they had. Figuratively and literally. Their whole place was covered in papers and notes, they hardly had a place to sit or to eat anymore. And everytime Bert was building his fantasy palace, he possessed even the sound channel. He was creating when music was blaring out of the speakers. The louder, the better.

But as she was nearing their apartment, walking down the corridor, she heard no noise complaints. No bass pulses were leading her way and as she was unlocking the door and there was not even a slight humming or guitar strings buzzing, her castle in the air closed for the night.

"Bert?" She called out in the empty living room, heading straight to his bedroom. They could hardly imagine living without each other anymore.

The silence was dazing her but she located Bert with dead shot. She found him sitting on the ground with his back against his bed. He was facing the window, the night sky was there for him to see. But he was too far gone to notice.

"Bert," Grace rushed to him, dropping to her knees next to him. "Bert," she took his face into her hands. "Bert, can you hear me?" She spoke so loud, hoping her voice would pierce the veil of Bert's consciousness. "Did you take your pills?" She wouldn't let him slip away easily.

She stood up looking for evidence and it was on display on his bedside table. He sure took the pill, just not the right one. He took himself high, reality overwhelmed him once again, and Grace was left to deal with the aftermath on her own once again.

"It was Mary, wasn't it?" She crouched next to him once again. "She was here, wasn't she?" Grace didn't need any explanation. Only Mary could suck out all the light from Bert like this. Only Mary, Bert's on and off girlfriend, the love of his life.

"We argued," he surfaced for a second.

"Oh god, Bert," Grace stroked his cheek, as she held his head in her hands so his head wouldn't be constantly bobbing up and down like he was falling asleep. "I'm so sorry." And she really was, just like she was every other time before. The casualties of love were taking their toll on Bert way too often. But Bert loved Mary. He loved her too much and Mary knew it and took advantage of it. She played with Bert's heart and he couldn't take it. He couldn't handle the fact his muse was flawed.

Grace sit down next to him, she let his head rest on her shoulder and looked out of the window onto the starry sky.

"She's never coming back. She said that," Bert managed to say half asleep.

Of course she did. She said it every time. Just like she came back every single time after saying that.

"She is, she is coming back, don't you worry about that," Grace reassured him.

Bert loved Mary, but Mary didn't really love Bert. Grace couldn't stand Mary, just because Grace truly loved Bert.

Only if Bert wasn't blinded.

Another sleepless night was on the horizon.