When he heard her heels clicking on the floor, Douglas checked the alarm clock on the bedside table: 4 in the morning. Four in the <i>bloody</i> morning. It was a miracle Kate had come home at all. Most of the time she didn’t bother to sleep at home anymore and slept at the office. He was starting to suspect she sometimes deliberately avoided coming home. And in the meantime he spent another sleepless night thinking of all the horrible ways she could die. She was out there saving the world as he lay there alone, consumed by dark thoughts. And she didn’t really care, did she?
She opened the bedroom door.
“There you are,” he said, more bitter than he actually wanted to sound. Damn, he should have just pretended to be asleep.
@a-scientist-and-a-warrior
Kate stopped on the threshold of the bedroom when she heard Douglas’s voice, and sighed softly. Had she been hoping he would be asleep? Probably. She hadn’t fancied another night of arriving home to a lecture, but she was tired, and she’d run out of clean shirts at work. Sheltered in the bedroom’s darkness, she grimaced.
“I’m sorry if I woke you,” she shot back coolly, knowing full well he probably hadn’t slept. On the carpeted floor, the noise of her shoes was muffled, but the door clicked slightly as she closed it behind her.
Why did he have to ruin everything? When had they started acting so cold? There was a time when they'd be happy to see each other, and they'd kiss and fall asleep in each other's arms. He missed that, but it was so hard to get past all that pain and hurtful thoughts and resentment and anxiety. He used to feel so safe around her, but now he felt weak and abandoned and lonely. He wished she wouldn't act like his feelings were irrational and stupid (or at least that's what it looked like to him). He ended up feeling unworthy compared to her. But he couldn't help feeling that way.
"You didn't," he replied, with a sigh, "I couldn't sleep".
