]His phone was plugged in, charging, but rested against his ear as he lay on his side in bed, the lights out and the glow of his tablet flashing around the darkness of their dorm – dancing across labeled cardboard boxes packed and set in the corner and over untouched binders from work.

The sheets were clean, had to be, and his pillowcase smelled of him only. Beside him were her things. The pillowcase compressed in a vacuum seal bag, and the tablet pointing up, too tired to hold it up any longer. Too painful to look at directly.

Instead, he listened to them laughing, their voices mingled together, echoing against ceramic tile and the steady stream of poor water pressure as they messed around.

His eyes closed a moment, and he could smell her shampoo. The way the water had carried a bit of soap down her neck and between her breasts to curl about her navel.

His eyes opened again, and he pulled his phone off his ear, pushing the play button on his inbox.

"I'm gunna be late to bed tonight. This ******** project is taking longer than I thought to wrap up"

They had worked such long hours, Rin early to go to her greenhouse and Melvin with the late shift to his labs. He woke up plenty of times to hear her shuffling in the dark morning light and he rolled over, mumbled something about what time it was or if she would meet him for breakfast later, and would go back to bed.

He should have gone with her. Woke up with her. Spent more time to kiss her before heading off to bed.

Yet, she would bend down and kiss him sometimes or ruffle his hair before heading out, and he always groaned as if it annoyed him – but he would find himself smiling once the door closed.

The phone went quiet, and he heard them whisper something he couldn’t make out in the video. Something he forgot.

It was slipping away from him.

His thumb moved over his phone before he selected another voicemail.

"Can you get dinner tonight? I'm kind of hungry for s**t that isn't military rations."

They went out, shopping, acting normal during leave. They hadn't really dated, but outside the island, it felt like they were a normal couple. Picking out groceries, necessities for island living, and catching a movie.

He took her out though knowing she needed the official date. She said she never really had that, and he wanted her to have that. While she coached and guided him with all the aspects of life he fumbled through, he tried to return to her the aspects of being a couple that were forgotten or deemed unimportant here.

He'd taken her out…….on Valentine's.

Her voice stopped, and he lifted the phone off his ear, looking at the list of voicemails he refused to delete, scared to even have his thumb too close to the trash icon, and glanced at the time.

February was coming.

It hadn't been long after their date together, the time he worked so hard to give her as much as he could and prove himself as a good boyfriend – that they went on that mission.

He pushed the screen and set the speaker against his ear again, watching as blurred figures moved over the surface of the tablet screen as it laid flat on the bed. A square ocean of memories.

""Where are you, you stupid dumbass, I can't ******** sleep."

He bite his lip and turned his face into the mattress, tablet sliding and sliding against his side. His hands curled deep into the fabric of her stained jacket and he clenched his teeth tight as his shoulders shook.

His phone fell down, open and silent.

It was the warmth that had left first. Then the smell of her. The pillowcase had started to smell only faintly of her hair. Then it was the memories. What were the exact words of their last dinner together? Did he finish first or did she?

Her face – how did it move. The pictures he kept couldn't capture that.

Her voice – how did she laugh? How high and how long and how quickly before it died away? The voicemails couldn't tell him.

How did her body rise and fall? How much weight did it take for the mattress to sag just enough to stir him away in the morning to watch her bareback leave the bed? Jan couldn't mimic that.


He smothered his face against his pillow, pulling the coat in close and all he could smell was blood.

And that was a memory he did not need.

""Where are you, you stupid dumbass, I can't ******** sleep."


His voice cracked into broken sobs against the cotton cover of his pillowcase and he turned his head back and forth to wipe his eyes.

…… I can't ******** sleep."

He couldn't sleep.