After a few minutes had passed, he let go of my hand and pushed himself up to standing. He took it slow and wiped his face again with his forearm. He picked his shirt up off the floor, slipped his arms into it, and began buttoning it.
"I should sleep at my place tonight."
I considered my response. Asking him to stay would probably ask him to do more than he could handle.
"Okay."
He picked up his coat and walked to the door. I followed at a measured distance and stopped three steps back where I wouldn't be in his way.
At the door, he stopped with his hand on the handle. His mouth opened, but nothing came out.
I closed the gap and hugged him. He hugged back and then turned toward the door.
He opened it and stepped into the hallway.
He didn't look back. I heard his key go into his lock, and then nothing.
I shut my door.
In the kitchen, I took a glass from the cabinet and filled it at the tap. I drank it all down.
I've never had a best friend.
I'd known it as fact my entire life, but I'd never said it out loud.
I put the glass in the sink.
My t-shirt was on the living room floor. Sully's shirt should have been with it, but he'd put his back on.
I brushed my teeth, went to the bedroom, and climbed into bed. The side I didn't use was cold. I lay on my back.
On the other side of the drywall, there was no sound. I lay there and listened to it.
I was still listening when the clock on the nightstand read one, two, three, and then four. Finally, I slept.
