You’d been laying there staring at the ceiling for the last two hours. You just couldn’t seem to relax in this bed- in Topper’s bed. It didn’t help that he snored like a chainsaw either. It just felt all wrong. Like your body knew this wasn’t where you were supposed to be, and it wasn’t going to let you relax. It even smelled wrong, too strong of the cologne Topper used liberally.

With a sigh, you carefully slide out from under the covers. You tiptoe over to where you’d left your hoodie, and you tug it over your head. Technically, it wasn’t your hoodie, you’d claimed it from Rafe early on in your relationship and hadn’t given it back after the breakup. You liked to pretend that it still smelled like him. You wondered if Topper knew it was Rafe’s, and if he just chose not to say anything.

He did that a lot, you both did actually. The two of you were never fully honest with each other. You didn’t tell him where your thoughts went when you zoned out, and he didn’t ask. He didn’t comment on the way your eyes lingered just a second too long on Rafe when you were out. It was like if you two didn’t talk about it, you could ignore the ghost of Rafe that hung over your relationship.

You pick up your phone from the table, and tiptoe out of the bedroom. You step out onto the large balcony, settling into an oversized lounge chair. And you do what you always do when you can’t sleep, you flick through your photos of you and Rafe. Feeling guilty over the way your heart beat a little faster still when you looked at him.

Tonight, the pictures weren’t enough for you. You wanted more. You needed more, and you knew you were all kinds of fucked up in the head to even be considering calling him. But it’s like you’re a moth and Rafe is the flame, you’re drawn to him. You pull up his contact, breathing a little easier as it starts to ring and you feel that familiar connection reaching through the phone line.

“Hello?” His voice sounded low and groggy, like you’d woken him up from a deep sleep. You pause, just listening to him breathe and not saying anything. “Hello?” He repeats and you can hear the annoyance drifting into his voice.

“Hi” you say softly, shifting in the chair to tuck your feet underneath you. “It’s me.”

He doesn’t respond right away, and you’re worried that he’s going to hang up on you. That tonight could be the night where he finally cuts you off completely.

“You know it’s after one in the morning” he groans, and you can picture him running his hand through his hair. You cling to the fact that he didn’t hang up, and just like that you feel like yourself again.