Fleur
When I woke up, he wasn’t there.
I felt the cold sheets beside me and knew he’d been gone a while. My tired eyes peered through the darkness to the crack of light between the doors that led to the sitting room. Then I heard his voice, like he was speaking to someone on the phone. I couldn’t make it out, not when he spoke quietly and the doors blocked out most of the sound.
I turned to look at the time on my phone.
It showed 4:08.
Bastien didn’t seem to have a sleep routine like the rest of the world. He slept whenever he slept, whether that was in the middle of the day or the middle of the night. It’d been a rough week, and I’d found myself waking up in the middle of the night because of bad dreams and general depression. Those moments were always hard because the loneliness was
