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[butterflyfactor]

I've been waking up in the middle of the night, staring at the dark, no memory of dreams or falling asleep. It doesn't feel like rest. Awake, and not awake. That's it. So it's weird when I'm aware, for the first time in a week, of being somewhere in between. I know I'm not awake, but I know I could be, shortly. I don't know what roused me, I don't

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[howmanylives]

I haven't been home in a week. That is... if you can call a hut in the middle of nowhere home, which is arguable, to say the least. This place is no more home than anywhere else I've lived, and being the Multiple Man, I've lived most places. My reasons for running this time are better than the last, but that's really not saying much. A drunken rejection is hardly comparable with what I did to Theresa all those months ago, but in a way, it's just a variation on a theme. When it comes to relationships, there's not one part of me that's ever done it right. So I ran because of guilt. I ran because of embarrassment. I ran because of ego. I ran because, at the end of day, I'm my own worst enemy, and for all this talk of seeing every possibility, I'm stuck committing the same mistake, over and over again, because I'm just too stubborn to learn.Jamie was busy trying to quiet Richards when he'd heard a voice coming from the adjoining room. He'd snuck in the house about ten minutes prior when his late night wandering had brought him to familiar

[butterflyfactor]

Layla gave another start, breath jumping in her lungs. Oh, sure. He came back now. She didn't answer for as long as it took her to make sure she wouldn't do something really embarrassing when she took a breath, like sob. She didn't breathe at all for a minute, then swallowed and forced out a , "Fine."

Somehow, the quality of my voice when I say it doesn't really back up the intention behind the word.

[howmanylives]

Jamie and Richards shared a look.

That's about as encouraging a response I could hope for... not. The first few nights, before the snow melted and further construction was pointless, we shared a room, so her nightmares are nothing new to me, even if I made a point of not bringing them up at the time. I've developed a lot of skills over the years, but comforting someone else is an admitted weakness. Usually I just end up passing those duties off to a dupe, but that hasn't been an option since last summer.

"I'm coming in," he said, in a voice that brooked no argument, and before he could change his mind, he cracked open the door.

[butterflyfactor]

She didn't look up at him. She didn't even uncurl slightly. If anything, she got smaller, sighing and digging the heels of her palms harder against her eyelids.

"It's your place," she said quietly, but steadily, managing to keep her tone even.