It's deafeningly quiet in your bedroom. There's not one single peep. Not the pitter of rain against your window, a dog in the distance barking outside, or even a snore. Without anything else to listen to, Jonathan focuses on your soft breaths as you lay beside him, facing the wall.

It's quiet moments like this that get him thinking. What truly happened to Will? He'd already accepted that his little brother was dead --- though no body had been found yet --- so he was left with his own thoughts to fill in the blanks.

He should be sleeping, but it was difficult. Things at Jonathan's house weren't going so well. He was convinced that Joyce, his own mother, was out of her mind. Preaching of hearing Will's voice through a phone call, speaking to her lost son with Christmas lights on the wall. It was all too much, especially when he was silently suffering with his grief.

You'd invited him over, like many times before. Your mattress was of much higher quality than his own, your bedding and pillows were soft and plush, more comfortable than what he was used to. Sleeping should be easy, but it wasn't.

Jonathan found himself staring into the blank eyes of one of your teddy bears, the old stuffed animal staring right back at him. It was unsettling - both his thoughts and the bear. With a sigh, he rolled onto his back and shut his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose, unaware of the fact that you were having just as much difficulty as he was. It seemed sleep was evading you both.

It wasn't until you sniffled that Jonathan realized you weren't asleep, ears easily picking up the sound in the silence. It startled him at first, but he reached over to place a hand on your arm.