0.14 [Closed Commentlog]
[Don had made a run for the infirmary, and had nearly dashed all the way back to Mike's room]
[Mike, who hadn't been sleeping properly - hadn't been sleeping at all - since his return.]
[When Don reaches the room again, he's panting a little harshly, but doesn't fumble Mike's keycard as he slides it into the lock and opens the door.]
[Mike, who hadn't been sleeping properly - hadn't been sleeping at all - since his return.]
[When Don reaches the room again, he's panting a little harshly, but doesn't fumble Mike's keycard as he slides it into the lock and opens the door.]
Comments 26
Actually no, scratch that. He's exhausted.
It's not that his mind has been caught on what happened, that he can't stop thinking about his death. It's that he's so determined not to, that he's not thinking about much of anything. Like if he does, he won't be able to stop, that he'll relive it.
Splashing his face with cold water for the hundredth time that day, he blots it dry with a hand towel and trudges back out into the main area, just in time to see Don close the door behind him. His chest clenches at the idea of being alone -- that's how it happened, he was overwhelmed, it was too much for him -- but he knows his brothers need to return to their own rooms sometimes. Logically he knows this. Emotionally? Ehhhhhhhh he's working on it.
He forces a superficial smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes.]
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Still haven't been able to get to sleep?
[The question is said softly. Like it wasn't something they'd been working on for the past days.]
[There are sleeping pills in his belt now, but they're a last resort.]
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He squirms slightly, avoiding meeting Don's eyes.]
I'm not tired.
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Mmhmm. I can see that.
[Don wanders over to Mike's bed, to pointedly rearrange the messy, but obviously-unslept-in blankets.]
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