"Sometimes, things are better left in the dark."
My skin felt like ice. The room was so cold--toocold. I hated the fact that the sheets around me felt so empty. I spread out across the mattress, trying to fill up the large space, but I couldn't. Even if I was somehow able to take up the entirety of the bed with my body, it would still feel just as lonely as it had when I was curled up into a ball on my side.
I sat up on the mattress, staring around the dark room. The curtains were open on the window, moonlight casting a bright white light across part of the floor, which gave the room just the right amount of illumination so that I could see the outline of the closed door.
I didn't want to bother him again, no matter how many times he told me that he didn't mind it. I felt as if I were some massive hindrance. All I did was prevent him from getting the sleep that he needed. I was a nuisance, yet I couldn't help it.
Gathering up the soft sheets around me, I carefully made my way towards the exit. My feet thudded gently against the wooden floor as I walked, the creak of the door's hinges as it opened making me wince. No matter how seemingly quiet I made myself, I couldn't help but feel as if I was a giant elephant stomping through the house.
I walked down the hall, not even feeling the need for a flashlight in the darkness. I had traveled this same route about a million times now. The path was, unfortunately, familiar. The same nagging thought that I was only being a bother flashed across the forefront of my mind, but I continued on nonetheless.
I hesitated in front of the door at the very end of the hall. This always happened: I would get nervous because, once again I was knocking on his door, about to interrupt his sleep for the fourth time just this week. And then I would tentatively begin to back away before coming right back and waking him up anyway. I felt as if I were being selfish for robbing him of so many nights.
As soon as my knuckles had tapped gently against the wood I felt bad, but not bad enough to go back to room. Just a few moments later, as if this had been anticipated, which I was sure it was, the door was pulled open and I looked up, finding blue eyes through the darkness.
Louis sighed, running a tired hand over his face and through his messy bedhead. I bit my lip, looking down. I could see the frustration in his eyes, the irritation etched into his features was prominent. "I'm sorry," I whispered as I stared at my shaking hands. I could feel myself slowly beginning to lose it, but I turned, prepared to go back to the room, when I felt his hand on my forearm.
"No, come on," he spoke gently. I glanced back. His features had softened, his eyes no longer irate but instead sympathetic as he beckoned me forward. I didn't hesitate in moving back towards his body, taking advantage of the warmth of his bare chest as he curled his arms around me.
It was the type of warmth that could keep me from feeling the chill, not only in the night air, but deep within the cracked confines of my heart, but it never lasted for long. The heat always faded, leaving an icy nothingness in it's place, and then I would be back to square one again, back to the horrible loneliness that gripped my entirety so completely.
But I pushed those thoughts away as Louis pulled me into his room. I was sure to step over the one creaky floorboard, sighing when I realized that, had I been able to keep it together, I wouldn't even know about the old wood, because it wouldn't be necessary for me to be here right now.
Taking the covers from my bed with me, I laid down on the warm mattress, a soft breath falling from my lips as Louis wrapped his comforter up and around me before climbing in on the other side of his bed. We were both turned on our sides, facing each other, and Louis propped himself up on his elbow as he looked down at me.
