Inversion [Camp NaNoWriMo July 2021]

day 16

d a y   1 6

I wake up in my bed, with no memory of how I got here.

When I look towards the chair beside my bed, I see Cian slumped over, his upper body precariously balanced on the bed.

I sit up, propping myself on my elbows, and reach over, brushing my fingers over the back of his hand.

A mistake, because he shifts, a groan rumbling through him before his eyes crack open, squinting towards me.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you." I pull my hand back, but he twists his fingers around mine, stopping me as he sits up. I wince at the discomfort he must feel after spending another night in that chair, but he doesn't seem to notice.

I read the question in his eyes—Are you okay?—but he doesn't say anything. Just stares at me with those fathomless eyes. Black like Death, I once thought. It still holds true.

He stays quiet long enough for me to feel uncomfortable. I pull my hand out of his, a firm tug that has him releasing his grip. "You should go to bed," I say softly. "That chair can't be comfortable."

"I'm fine." His tone is nonchalant, and he settles back into the chair, eyes roving over me. "Don't worry about me."

We face off for a good minute before I realize that he has no intention of leaving. Not because he's trying to annoy me, but because he doesn't want to leave me alone. Realizes, even though I hadn't voiced it aloud, that I can't bear to be alone. Not right now.

My chest tightens painfully. I don't say anything as I scoot farther from him, patting the mattress.

Something like caution flashes in Cian's eyes. He makes no move to get up from the chair.

"If you won't return to your room, the least I can do is offer you the bed," I explain quietly. "Either you take that side, or I sleep on the floor." A useless threat, but it works. He only pauses for a few short seconds before something like resignation replaces the wariness. He lies down slowly, as close to the edge of the bed as possible without falling off.

"You'd think I had some horrible disease," I say wryly, trying to cut through the tension in the room, "with the way you're acting."

His throat bobs as he swallows, staring up at the ceiling. "The last time I was in a bed with someone else ..."

He trails off, but I don't need any more of an explanation. And I'm just beginning to wonder if I really should sleep on the floor when he shifts over on the bed, moving away from the edge. Just a few inches.

"I'm sorry," I murmur. I lower myself back onto the bed but keep my face turned towards him.

"You didn't do anything." A cool response, his eyes still fixed upwards.

"It was tactless of me—"

"It's fine."

I know the conversation—if it can even be called that—is over. Cian's eyes are shuttered, his body completely stiff. I just murmur a good night before turning my back to him, more for his sake than my own, and close my eyes.

Sleep doesn't come easy.

* * *

Cian is gone by the time I finally wake up, the sun shining in my face feeling like part of my daily routine now, with my nightmares and thoughts keeping me up half the night.