"A Sanctuary Safe and Strong"(Marianas Trench)

Chapter 47

"You look like death," a rough voice, still thick with sleep spoke, jarring Josh out of his near-coma. He'd been staring at the television through half-lidded, unblinking eyes for the last couple of minutes. 

Unlacing his fingers from where they'd been resting over his stomach, he reached up to rub at his eyes until little bursts of colour dotted the insides of his eyelids. "Not dead," Josh mumbled from behind his hands. 

The blond heard the soft squeak of leather as Matt landed heavily in the chair across the room. "Didn't say you were. Just said you looked like death. Did you ever go to bed last night?" He cleared his throat and slid his sleeves up to his elbows, getting a little more comfortable where he sat. 

Josh dropped his hands down to the carpet, running his fingertips over the rough fibers beneath him as he twisted his head to better look at the guitar player. The younger man was up, showered and dressed for the day while Josh was still in what he'd put on twenty-four hours earlier. His hair fell into his face as he moved and he reached up to brush it out of his eyes. "Some." One truth. 

"Is it the insomnia shit again?" 

Sure. Why not? One lie. "I'd fuckin' sleep if I could, dude," came Josh's new honest, but vague answer. He was getting a little too good at that.  

Matt cocked his head to the side, frowning slightly. "Maybe you should, like, try to get a little more rest. Head up to bed or something. You might sleep better there." 

Josh's eyes widened and he pushed himself to sit, crossing his legs. Shaking his head, he tugged his shirt back into place again. "Nah, I'm fine. I'll be okay." 

"C'mon, man, this can't...this can't be good for you, you know? Get to bed, shut your eyes. You'll feel better." 

Tucking a leg up under him, the singer shoved himself to his feet, staggering a bit until his equilibrium centered itself again. "I fuckin' said I'd be fine. I'm just gonna go change outta this shit, though," he said, gesturing to his wrinkled, day old clothing. 

Matt slowly closed his eyes and nodded, opening them again as the blond walked by on his way to the staircase. "Hey, you want breakfast? I can cook or go out for something." 

"Whatever," Josh called back indifferently from halfway up the stairs, leaving the choice up to the brunet. It really didn't matter to him either way. He was too tired to make a decision and too tired to care. Hell, he was too tired to eat. 

His bedroom clock read ten a.m.. Looks like Matt slept in, Josh thought, pulling the shirt off over his head and dropping it down onto the unmade bed. His belt was dropped to the floor, and he stepped out of his jeans, losing his balance once and bracing a hand on the foot of the bed for support as he kicked the black denim off. Sliding his boxer-briefs down his hips, he rid himself of those as well, before stepping through piles of discarded clothing and back over to the dresser.  

There was still one pair of socks and one pair of underwear left in the bottom drawer before he absolutely had to do laundry, unless he went out to buy new stuff, which was looking more and more like a possibility. The closet held more in the form of actual clothing, luckily for him. The last thing Josh wanted to have to do was buy an entirely new wardrobe due to laziness, not that it would be the first time. 

Josh was pulling the clean pair of jeans up his body when he heard it. "Dead." The word was low, but it was there nonetheless. At first he ignored it, thinking perhaps Matt had flipped on the radio or the television downstairs, but then it came again, a little more persistently. "Dead."  

Fucking dream, he thought as visions of the nightmare from several hours ago came back to him. He still couldn't figure out why he'd deliberately thrown himself from that cliff, though now that he was awake, he supposed he could only assume during a mental game of connect-the-dots that it was a subconscious way of choosing death over being involuntarily killed.