The Fabric of our Souls

My sleep is as restless as my waking moments are. I’m so fucking tired… Even my dreams bring me no peace, no ease from my long, dreary days. If anything, they make things worse. Sometimes I dream so vividly that I’m more exhausted when I wake up than I was when I fell asleep.

Tonight is one of those nights.

The shitty part is that the dreams aren’t even exciting. I’ll be sitting at a desk working, or grocery shopping, sometimes even just going for a walk. All I know is that I am so, so tired.

The ceiling of my room is covered with ugly coats of beige paint, well past due a renovation. I wonder if that’s where the mildewy smell is coming from.

Old painted ceilings are all that keeps me sane in the wee hours of the night. How depressing.

I shift to my side and pull the covers up to my mouth as I watch Liam take steady breaths. His dark lashes kiss his cheeks in the dim light. At least he doesn’t seem to be in pain anymore. He woke me a few hours ago with low whimpers from what I’m assuming were nightmares.

My gaze shifts to the window. The rain stopped thirty minutes ago, but the moisture is still heavy in the air. I like that about rainy days. The weight makes me feel like it’s okay to be down. No one judges you if you’re sad on a rainy day.

Hushed little chirps draw my attention to Liam’s nightstand. His phone lights up and he stirs awake, tapping on the screen to silence the alert. I close my eyes enough so if he looks over at me, he’ll think I’m sleeping.

Liam quietly gets up, pulls a hoodie over his head, and slips on his sneakers. I lift my head slowly as he steps out of the room and shuts the door.

Where the fuck is he going at four a.m.?

I walk toward the door and peek out into the hall. It’s already empty and quiet—Liam’s nowhere in sight. My brows knit together. Maybe he’s just going to the bathroom or something.

I wait for him to get back, staring at the ceiling and thinking of what sessions I’ll have today. After thirty minutes have passed, I unplug my phone from the charger and start typing out all my complaints to James.

Wynn: How could you leave me here without telling me it’s unorthodox? Did you know my roommate is a MAN.

James: Jesus, it’s four a.m., should I have them add sleeping medication to your prescriptions as well? 🙂

Wynn: Fuck you… yeah that would actually be nice lol.

James: Love you. Sorry about the roommate, is he your type? Maybe it’s not such a bad thing.

Wynn: He’s something. Love you too.

I can’t help but smile. James never keeps his phone on sound, so maybe he was expecting me to text him and complain. It’s been a long time since I’ve done that… and somehow it makes me feel better.

As the minutes tick by I find myself thinking about Liam’s old roommate. Who was he? Did he ever notice Liam getting up in the middle of the night, or was he a heavy sleeper? Crosby. I want to know more about him. I make a mental note to ask around tomorrow when Liam isn’t nearby.

The door creaks open and Liam walks back in. He shuts the door behind him and leans his body against it like he’s tired, breathing heavily.

Where did he go? Why at this hour?

I sit up in bed and his head tilts in my direction.

“What?” he grumbles, He sounds either drunk or in pain.

I fist the sheets. He’s so insufferable. “Where did you go at this hour?”

His figure is dark in the dim room and I can’t see his facial features, but the tone of his voice is sharp as he says, “It’s none of your business. Go back to sleep.”

He’s acting odd enough for me to tap on the bedside lamp. It illuminates the room and my stomach curls at the sight of Liam.

His clothes are wet, mud coats his shoes, and… and blood drips down from his knuckles. His expression is hard like stone, looking at me with rage.

“Oh my God.” I stumble from my bed and approach him carefully. “What happened?” I reach for his arm but he pulls away and gives me a death glare.

“I said go back to bed, Wynn.”

My legs tremble but I refuse to move. “I asked what happened.”

We stand face-to-face, each glaring daggers at the other. Finally his stony expression softens and he takes off his shoes and sweatshirt. He sighs when I stand firm, waiting for a response.

“I just went for a walk.”

“And hurt yourself?”

He eyes me with annoyance before muttering, “Yeah.”

“You said we were to stop each other. I’m confronting you on it.” I steady my breathing and try to reach for his arm again. This time he doesn’t pull away. He lets me grab his arm and his eyes meet mine wearily.

I push his sleeve up and find a long cut running down his forearm—not over his artery, but along the side. His blood is hot and sticky, dripping to the floor and infusing the air with a metallic scent.

“Liam,” I mutter in disbelief. How could he do this to himself on purpose… He woke up in the middle of the night to do this? Why?

“I’m fine,” he growls, pulling his arm back.

“That’s not fine,” I protest and head toward his nightstand, opening it and grabbing the gauze and tape. I snag him fresh clothes while I’m at it. “We have to get you cleaned up.” He’s not himself. He’s sick and he’s lost a lot of blood already.

Liam stares blankly up at me. I take it as compliance as I lead him back into the hall and into the bathrooms.

It’s pitch-black outside. Rain begins to tick against the windows again and wind rattles the panes. I flip the shower lights on and a section of the bathroom lights up. Liam just watches me and follows obediently. Thank God. But it’s so unlike the person I’ve known for only a day now.

The shower warms up quickly and I motion for him to head in. His arm is still bleeding but at least it looks like it’s clotted enough to slow a bit. “Keep your arm out of the water until the end.”

He nods, takes off his clothes with no worry or regard for my leering eyes, and steps beneath the steaming water. I try to keep my attention on anything except his body, so I focus on the blood on my hands.

It looks so much like the night I tried to die. Red. Every shade of red. Bright at first and then thick crimson and rose, dulling to maroon.

I walk over to the sinks and rinse off my hands three times for good measure, keeping my mind on anything but that night. My heart hammers in my chest, making me focus more on my breathing.

The shower turns off and Liam sits down on a bench next to the pile of clean clothes I brought with us. I grab a towel from the rack and hand it to him, keeping my eyes elevated and away from him.

“I knew you were a prude.”

My cheeks flare. “Liam, can we not right now?”

He chuckles and wraps the towel around his waist. Once he’s covered, I dry his wound and dab ointment on it. He probably doesn’t need stitches, but still, it’s deep. I gently place gauze over the ointment and then wrap his arm.

“There.” I tuck the end so it doesn’t lift and sit back on my haunches before looking at him.

Liam’s eyes are dark, sunken, and dreadful. He doesn’t even have his usual ire. His hair is wet since he didn’t bother drying it.

I grab another towel and drop it on his head.

“I’ll be in the room. Please don’t do anything else tonight, I’m tired and don’t particularly feel like having to do this again.” I wait for a minute and when he doesn’t respond I leave.

I feel like I work here.

The hall is dark and silent, and the reprieve of our room is welcoming. I feel as though I could sleep for days. Liam’s muddy shoes will have to wait until tomorrow morning.

I strip out of my clothes and pull on a baggy shirt, then fall into my bed.

The door opens a few minutes later.

Liam’s steps stop at my bedside and I hesitate before opening my eyes. He looks down at me, hair dry and a distinctive flicker of anger in his eyes.

The audacity.

“You’re welcome,” I grumble and roll in my bed, pulling the covers over my head and wishing he’d just let me be.

The bed sinks and my heart jumps in my chest as his weight pushes down on me. He pulls the covers back until he can see my eyes.

“Why did you do it?” he asks, not unkindly, but his voice is low and empty of warmth.

“Because you were hurt and I—”

“Not that,” he snipes. “Who… Who hurt you so bad that you wanted to die?” His eyes hold firm on mine. He’s leaning over me and has me pinned. I don’t think he intends on letting me sleep without an answer.

“Well, it wasn’t just one person.”

He looks at me expectantly.

“Why do you want to know? I thought I repulsed you.” I try to wriggle from the blanket but he tightens his hold.

“You do.” I fight the pain the insult threads through my chest. “But it only makes you all the more a wonder. So again, who could possibly plant such dark, sinister seeds into a heart like yours?” His eyes soften.

Was that supposed to be a compliment?

My chest feels heavy and it’s hard to breathe. A dizzy spell falls over me and Liam takes notice, quirking a brow.

“I need my medication,” I rasp. How could I forget to take it? Day one and it’s a complete shit show.

His brows draw together with concern and he grabs a few bottles off my nightstand, handing them to me and watching patiently as I pop open all of them and take one from each bottle.

“What’s wrong with you?” he asks once I gulp down a few swigs of water.

I side-eye him. “I have a heart condition. So if you could refrain from pinning me in my bed that’d be great. Stress and anxiety make the side effects worse.”

His face visibly pales and guilt shadows his eyes. “I didn’t know… I’m sorry.”

“Can we just go to sleep now?” I set the pills down and lie back. Liam remains sitting on my bed a few moments longer before he returns to his own.