Spilling Guts

Part 94 - What ifs...

Will was left alone to get ready for bed. Washed his face, brushed his teeth, changed into shorts and a t-shirt of the deathstar exploding. His selection of caffeine-free pre-bedtime tea was limited to peppermint. It tasted like watered down toothpaste. At the behest of his still growling stomach, he helped himself to a banana from the fruit basket.

Doctor Hayman fitted Will with the poly-sonogram; electrodes on his head with a sticky, clear gel and a cap to keep everything in place. Arms and legs wired up, a tube under his nose and a stretchy band across his chest.

"Do you think you can sleep with this?" Doctor Hayman had asked.

"I think so." Will had once fallen asleep in his Storm Trooper costume. This couldn't be that hard.

It was hard.

He wished Louis was still inside him, rubbing at his inner walls. That would put him to sleep.

The nasal tube smelled of plastic, and the wires dragging across the bed reminded Will of being tied to a gurney in Freewill. He tried to focus on the book he brought; one of his favorites, The Courtship of Princess Leia. Instead the words melted together his head, filling it with white noise. When he turned the bedside light off and tried to sleep, his mind spun.

What if the test shows nothing? What if I can't be treated? What if Cetz has to split me and Louis up for missions because I can't handle it? We were starting to get somewhere with Balcuwitz. I don't want to lose my partner, even if we are a bad fit.

If, Balcuwitz had said. You can't live your life based on "ifs".

Will considered fetching a toy from the foot of the bed, whatever good that would do.

What if it doesn't work?

What if it does?

"Screw it," he whispered. He flopped down the comforter and crawled to the end of the bed. The lid to the storage bin was light and lined with felt to close without slamming. He grabbed the first soft thing he felt in the dark. Big enough to be substantial in his arms.

Back to bed, cuddling something shaped like a soft wedge and smelling of cloves.

If holding a stuffed animal or chibi snack food is what puts me to sleep then that plushie ewok at home is getting drafted for active duty.

He lay still, curled on his side, searching for a way to empty his mind. More "what ifs" circled around him like opportunistic vultures, dipping and pecking. There were no clocks in the room aside from his phone. It felt like he'd been laying in bed for hours.

I keep thinking of dreadful "what if"s. What about nice "what if"s? Then the intrusive voice that kept imagining Louis' shoulder to hip ratio and many other far-fetched ideas whispered, What if Louis comes in through that door and kisses me?

Oh. That's a nice fantasy.

What if I let him... His mind went quiet at the idea. Imagining a heavy weight on his body, holding him down while eating him up. Taking his breath away kiss by kiss.

What if we end up making out on the bed while Hayman is watching?

No. Bring it back. Nice what ifs only.

What if Doctor Hayman fell asleep and Louis and I could do whatever we wanted?

That's more like it.

Will's imagination ran rampant. Hot breath on his skin while a cool line if kisses curled under his jaw. Finger tips grazing his sides, grabbing his sides, pulling him closer, tighter.

What if...

Sleep.

***

Hayman glanced up from the file on his desk as he heard a sigh through the speaker. He checked the readouts. Breath even and slow. Pulse slowed down. And through the window the shape on the bed lay still.

"One fifteen, patient asleep," murmured Hayman, jotting the time on a notepad.

Another sip of iced coffee to keep himself alert. Hayman had done his fair share of night shifts and heavy night reading. The file Rachel gave him was no exception. He already had another sheet of notes filled out with questions for the next morning.

Hayman looked closer at the night-vision monitor, specifically at the shape in Will's arms. He smiled. "It's always the falafel."