Warm Hug and Tears

Eventually, the heaviness in our limbs outweighs the pull of memory, and we both go quiet. The night's still, but it feels too full to breathe in. Like the air itself remembers something we're both trying not to say.

"I should sleep," I murmur, half-leaning against the kitchen counter. I just finished washing my hands. "You can stay ... if you want."

Elliot nods. His eyes are sleepy too. The tension that lingered earlier has softened, stretched out like mist across the floor between us.

"I'll take the couch," he says, already pulling at the throw blanket folded on the armrest. "You should sleep on the bed."

I shake my head. "It's not fair. I'm not gonna let you sleep like a pretzel while I curl up in the comfy bed."

He smiles, faintly. "Don't tempt me."

I raise an eyebrow. "Tempt you?"

He scratches the back of his neck, his voice low. "I just mean ... after the kiss earlier. We probably shouldn't share a bed. Just saying."