always
unspecified member x reader, angst but not heavy, ~600 words, song was listened to 9 times (approx 26 minutes)
↳ byulsgrease.mp3 - an exercise in challenging my internalized perfectionism by testing my ability to loop a song and write something before I'm absolutely sick of it
You roll over in bed, absentmindedly slapping your palm at the surface of the covers beside your body, hoping that you’ll hit something, or someone. Wishful thinking. Doesn’t stop you from trying every time, though.
It’s like this every time she sleeps over, whether it’s because she got too drunk and your apartment is close to the club she frequents, because she can’t sleep and claims to need a living, breathing being to help her feel less alone, or whatever astronomical excuse she can think of to come over. You’ve got to give her credit, some of them have been rather creative.
You’re not really sure what to call the arrangement. Maybe if you weren’t living the bachelor life, you’d have a sofa that she could crash on. You’d make her sleep on the floor if you owned more than one set of bedsheets. But none of these things are in your possession, so she ends up sharing your bed. Maybe you should ask her to buy herself a sleeping bag, at least.
Maybe the handholding and cuddling was supposed to be a one-time thing, particularly because the first time she asked to stay over was because she had partied too hard and was beyond gone. The feat of showing up at your door at all was some kind of marvel. You gave her water and a place to sleep, and she was gone before you woke up. This happened a couple more times, but it was an interesting turn of events when she called you up completely sober at 2am, asking if she could come over. Again, you let her. Not like you had anything better to do.
Last night was different.
“Are you asleep?” you whispered inquisitively. A guttural noise escaped her. So, barely. Your back lay pressed to her chest with her arm lazily draped over your front to keep you close. Not that the bed was of the size for either of you to go very far. Your ears grew warm when you asked rather meekly— “Why do you keep coming here?”
“Do you want me gone?” A fair amount more awake now.
“No, no,” you shot back. “I’m just wondering. You’re always welcome here, but I’m gonna need a little more explanation than the random ‘I can’t sleep’.”
“Don’t pretend that you don’t like it,” she said with an air of playfulness, squeezing you ever-so-slightly tighter.
“You’re swerving the question.”
She let out a sigh, warm breath whistling past your ear.
“We can talk about it in the morning, okay? You should get to sleep. Should be faster now that I’m here, anyway.” You couldn’t argue with that, especially the LED numbers on your alarm clock counting up to your impending morning alarm shining through the darkness.
As per usual, you don’t remember falling asleep. Nor do you remember her leaving. You never do. You tell yourself every time that you’ll catch her on the way out one of these days, but she somehow leaves you waking up in an empty bed.
A couple months of radio silence passes. You’re not sure if it was the way that you asked, or what. It wasn’t even an unreasonable question to ask. But she left you with no closure anyway. It’s not like she was a main character in your life, or that you were particularly close, so you don’t miss her much, at least not viscerally. But you’ll forever be left wondering if you were naive for assuming that it would always be this way, that she’d keep coming back.
Until your phone goes off— you know it’s her because you customized the vibration pattern after the second time.
Can we start over?
Did you ever even start?