Sleepless: A Relationship Short

Matt and A’s House
Tokyo, Japan
December 2013

Matt had returned from a mission a week prior, smiling a little bit and greeting her as if he hadn’t been away for a number of days. His work clothes were wrinkled and bloodstained; A had cringed upon seeing them and he reassured her that the blood wasn’t of his own. (At least he swore it wasn’t his. The injuries on his skin made her doubt.)

In a few days, things slowly reverted to how they were before he had left for South. His weapons were hidden in the his own weapon storage and was locked up. He hid the key; she had a spare (just in case). The blood had managed to come out of his clothes. His face, pained and slightly guilt-ridden upon coming back, soon reverted back to cheery and teasing.

But the circles under his eyes remained.

In fact, they seemed darker.

A had noticed, of course. Good observational skills came with the job.  The German noticed how Matt would put a little more coffee in than creamer and sugar, how eight to ten hours of sleep became five to six. She frowned upon realizing that he was avoiding his FPS games, which he usually adored, instead opting for something calmer.

A wasn’t the type of person to sugarcoat things and give someone extra treatment. Instead, she moved on casually as if the person hadn’t gone through anything in the first place, save for extreme circumstances. And Matt wasn’t an exception.

So she worked and he stayed back, playing and resting up. During the nights, A would give him a kiss before cuddling into him and sleeping, realizing moments before drifting off that his breathing wasn’t quite as low and deep as it usually was.

A was a relatively light sleeper; on the other hand, Matt could sleep through anything. She could wake up and shift lightly in his arms, and he’d still keep his face buried into the crook of her neck. Being the earlier one to wake, she would usually just wait for him to rise or kiss him out of his sleepy state.

A woke up with a parched throat, slipping out of Matt’s arms and walking out the bedroom towards the kitchen. The digital clock on the side read 4:16AM, and it was definitely too early to function. As the woman staggered out of bed, she didn’t realize that Matt’s grip on the sheets had tightened.

Groggily pouring water into the glass, she set the container down and took a long drink, blinking the sleepiness out of her eyes. Outside the window, everything around was still dark. Purple tainted the sky and A set the glass into the sink, sliding the water back into the fridge and closing the door.

The next sound was a sound A had never heard in her years of living with Matt.

A scream – a choked kind of scream.

The woman broke into a sprint and ran back to the bedroom, panic filling her thoughts and trying to remember where she had put her gun in these kinds of situations.

Upon bursting into the room, she expected the worst: Matt with a gun to the head or a knife to the neck, her Matt with deep wounds and bleeding all over the bed, a gun shoved in her face –

Turning the lights by the bed on, a dim orange filled the room. There wasn’t any thief or murderer or thug who wanted to take revenge. It was just Matt.

And he was writhing on the bed, screaming his lungs out. A crawled back on the bed, unable to register what exactly what was happening until she saw his tight grip on the sheets and the cold sweat going down his face. His whole body was tense and her lover was screaming as if the worst was happening.

He was having a nightmare.

In the relationship, she was the one who frequently had them. She was the one who would be woken up, panicking and teary-eyed with Matt ready to embrace her tightly and whisper that it was alright. It would be her mind plagued with nasty memories, her mind tortured with horrid images and futures and pasts.

His words were incomprehensible and his breath was ragged, body erupting in tremors. As gently as she could, A held him close despite his jerking and shaking. The black-haired woman planted a kiss on his forehead, murmuring words of comfort as gently as much as she could.

It took him minutes to calm down. Screams turned to sobs and he eventually stopped moving too much, instead quivering and shuddering as the intensity of it watered down. She stayed like that until he opened his eyes, only holding him tighter upon seeing his tears.

“A,” he managed, sitting up and embracing her tightly. A hugged back just as tightly, rubbing his back and listening quietly as he started all over again. “God, you…you and Kenichi.” he pulled away eventually, eyes red and circles darker than ever, “Dead. He was shot in the head. You were gunned down by your motorcycle. And I just watched – I was frozen on the spot and I couldn’t help you both.” Matt tugged at his hair and she took his hands, trying to get him to stop, “Kenichi looked so disappointed, A. He just gave me this look before getting shot and I can’t get it out of my head.”

Sad eyes watched him as he relayed what had happened, all the while rubbing his back in an attempt to make him feel better. “…I don’t even want to remember what you looked like,” he groaned. “Against your motorcycle. Calling for me and I couldn’t protect you,” Matt rambled, about to collapse once again.

“It was just a dream,” she whispered. He grimaced.

“It seemed too real. Too much. I just…” Matt attempted to collect himself and A let him, waiting patiently. “That’s why I hate sleeping after doing missions, love. Consequences play. Alternative endings play. And they’re horrible,” he spat. “I’m just reminded of what can happen and I goddamn fucking hate all of it.”

“Matt,” she interrupted. He looked at her. She touched his face and he shut his eyes, her fingers tracing lightly over the small wound on his cheek. “None of it is real. I’m still alive,” she told him. “Kenichi is still alive. And he’ll never be disappointed in you. He never will be.” Matt’s shoulders slumped and she went on, “And I’ll always be here. I won’t die. I can’t die. Not yet.”

His hand found hers and he gripped it tightly. Matt’s eyes met hers and he mumbled something under his breath. She blinked in response. “Sorry?”

The redhead took a breath. “I’ll never be able to forgive myself if I get you killed.” Her gaze softened and she took him into her arms again, starting to rub his back once more as he kept his face in her shoulder.

“You have to sleep, love,” she murmured. Matt shook his head and she sighed quietly, drawing away from the embrace. “Please?”

“It might happen again,” he mumbled, and she frowned.

“It won’t. You know I’m here – Kenichi’s alive – and that’s what matters.”

The Brit shut his eyes and lay back down, stiffly pulling the covers over himself. A slid in right next to him, allowing him to take her into his arms. His grip tightened around her waist.

“Can you sing?”

She was surprised at his request, but did so anyway. A sang softly and Matt let her voice consume him, the familiar wave of drowsiness washing down on him. His grip slackened.

And she finished her song, shifting lightly and sealing his slumber with a kiss.