We Go Down (Bremmy 2)

Chapterish 22

"BROOKS!" I shout out.

I'm not sure if it's from fright or excitement or a happy marriage of both. It's both. Fuck me. I just don't remember becoming this basic.

I race across the tiny space and flop myself on top of him, elated that his last bit of texts were lies.

"Hey, you." Brooks laughs at my face, holding in between his two palms. He kisses my nose and lips and chin.

"Oh, I could get used to coming home to you." I kiss him deep, sinking into him like I'm trying to drown myself.

"So worth it." Brooks laughs.

"What's worth what?" I question him.

"Fearing your text wrath to see your face just now." He's enjoying himself. I just roll my eyes. "Exhausting day, though. Nap?"

"Duh." I nod.

I could curl up with him and just not leave my bed for the foreseeable future. Even the not-so-foreseeable future.

What's better than a nap, THO.

A nap with Brooks.

We wake up some time later, lost in one of those what-year-is-it vibes. Brooks nudges his nose into my shoulder and pulls me on top of him.

"I'm up," I grumble.

The clock on my phone tells me it's 11:15 PM. I stifle a yawn and roll over onto my back. My stomach makes a noise I've never even heard before and I realize I haven't eaten dinner.

"Hungry?" Brooks looks at me.

"My stomach is."

"Let's go," Brooks says, sliding from the bed.

He's already digging into his duffle fishing out his hoodie. I watch him throw it over his shoulder and secure it under his denim jacket.

"Where?" I ask, brows creased. "It's almost midnight."

"It's almost midnight," Brooks mimics me. "Didn't know you had a bed time."

"Fine," I groan, rolling off the bed.

I pull on leggings and a baggy long-sleeve shirt, throw my flannel parka on top and call it a midnight.

"At your service." I fake bow.

"Smart ass," Brooks grins. "Let's go."

We walk down the dim hallway, inhaling the smell of Chinese food and passing the neighbor's cat on our way to the elevator. It takes us down and I begrudgingly follow Brooks into the cold night.

Brooks stalks off left, like he's on a mission and the destination is in sight.

"Where are we going?" I ask, pepping up my step to keep up.

"To get you breakfast." Brooks shrugs.

"Breakfast at midnight. New." I nod.

Brooks runs into the empty street, leaving me alone on the sidewalk. He raises his arms and head to the starry sky. "This is our walkabout."

"Our what?" I ask.

"Walkabout," he says slower. "We're going to walk through the night. All night. Wherever our legs take us."

"All night?" I ask, skeptical. A low growl grows in my stomach again. "What about sleep?"

"What about breakfast?" Brooks's grin is infectious, as always.

"Lead the way," I say, pretending to give him some invisible fake reigns to our love carriage.

We walk through the semi-empty streets, wandering lazily under the humming streetlights, sleepless in Seattle indeed. Brooks quizzes me on favorite colors and TV episodes and ice cream flavors. Really trivial things that shouldn't matter at all –that don't matter at all. But Brooks has a way about him that makes playing 20-Questions almost too fun.