Asystole ✷ Mark Sloan

𝟬𝟯𝟴 crash into me

𝙓𝙓𝙓𝙑𝙄𝙄𝙄.
CRASH INTO ME

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A LOUD CRASH filled the room, causing me to jolt upwards.

Cold sweat coated my skin and I instantly cringed, my muscles going rigid with the pain of my cracked rib.

"Fuck." I winced, cradling my chest.

"Fuck." Said an invisible voice, hidden in the shadows of my bedroom.

The room was dark aside from a single source of light, what looked like some sort of torch on my bedroom floor.

It must've been the dead of night and I'd been sleeping peacefully until the disruption. Now, alarmed and still vaguely disorientated, I was sat upright in bed (much to the dismay of my ribs) and staring blindly into the depths of the night.

My chest heaved, blood pumped in my ears, the sheets slick and sticky against my skin— I reached out an arm, attempting to slap the bedside lamp to life.

Light chased away the shadows, illuminating a rather peculiar scene. I'd been fully prepared to fall into some true crime documentary, faced with some looming figure over my bed. Instead, the light burned into my sleepy eyes causing me to wince.

Then, very slowly, I peered over at the guilty expression on Charlie's face.

"Hi." I said, eyebrows raising as he stood there, in the middle of the room.

He was stooped, his hand going downwards to pick up the torch that he'd dropped. My tone was sleepy, confused, I squinted and bit back a yawn that was threatening to spill out of my lips.

"Hi," was his sheepish reply.

A glance at the floor told me that it wasn't the torch that had disrupted me; I leant forwards (much to the dismay of my ribs) and caught sight of a rather large suitcase that was on it's side, looking very sorry for itself. When I looked back at him, he was rubbing the back of his neck, shaking his head slowly.

"I am so sorry— do you want me to get your painkillers—"

"It's okay."

It wasn't okay. Sleep was the only time I ever got to myself these days.

The holiday season was heating up and sleep was currently my favourite pastime. My voice was husky, not in the sexy just-woken-up-way but in the i-want-to-pass-the-fuck-out-again-way.

"What time is it?"

"3am."

Oh it definitely was not okay. 3am meant my call time at work was 5 hours away and I'd only, so far, had two hours of sleep. I'd had a late night doing paperwork and had eaten a cold leftover pastrami sub from the deli for dinner. My body craved unconsciousness.

My chin lifted very slowly and Charlie frowned. "Go back to sleep— I don't need the light on, it's okay— I didn't mean to disturb you—"

"It's okay." I yawned, not even realising that I'd repeated myself.

My body descended back downwards, eyelids fluttering slightly as my head hit the pillow. Charlie moved around in the background, hauling his suitcase off the ground and back onto it's wheels.

I was tired enough that I almost dozed off with the lamp in my face, but I felt the bed dip as Charlie came and sat beside me, his hand resting on my lower leg.

"When's your flight?" I mumbled into the comforter.

"Two hours." He was whispering, his tone dropping as I laid on my back, chin pressed against my left shoulder, away from him and the light. His fingers lightly traced a pattern through the comforter. I heard him take a breath. "Are you sure you can't come with me?"