The room was standard. Bigger than the dorm room he first move into the day he came to Deus. Bigger than the room he and Rin shared when they moved together for the first time.

The room was smaller than the upgraded room him and Lawr lived in together. It was smaller, much smaller, than the house they worked together to make.

The room was quiet. Quieter than the room with Rin. Quieter than the room with Lawr. Quieter than the house.

It felt quieter now than before.

Loosing his grip, the duffel slid down onto the ground and the sound of it hitting the carpet felt loud.

"I'm home." He tested, speaking out into the darkened, unused spaces, and he tensed at hearing nothing back. The statement felt just as empty as the room.

Picking up his things again, he set them on the cold bed and unzipped the bags, the sound loud and long. Each rustle of fabric was prounouced. The dresser door sliding and closing felt harsh to his ears.

And then his bags were empty, and he stared at them both for a while before closing them and placing them in the closet, slowly shutting the door. It was late.

He was tired.

Everything made him tired.

After a shower, he changed and stared at the bed, and then out inot the apartment. There was no-one nearby. His eyes went to the windows, but he couldn't make out any lights from his view, and the tows were far away. Checking his watch said someone was bound to still be awake there. Jordon probably was off with his friends. He did well on his own. Had been.

The bed sagged as he slid into the covers and let his weight sink. There was no need for restrictions, and he fans his arms out, limbs stretching into cold darkness and stared up at the ceiling.

It was so quiet.

He could hear it heart thump, and the more it hit his ears, the more it raced. A hand out to the left - Nothing. Bum. Bum. Bum. A hand out to the right. Bum.bum.bum.bum.

Deep breathes, and it went faster and faster until he turned over, reaching for a pillow to only find the one. His. No one else. It smelled of no one but him. There was no faint perfume here. No collonge. No expensive fabrics. No thick curls. No slender elbows. No round curves. No soft giggling. No hushed whispers. No doors opening as someone crept in. No sag on either side. No lingering smells of dinner. No soft touch while he barely could keep awake. No creaking of floorboards around them. No houselight outside showing in. No vague smell of fresh earth for working too late.

Bumbumbumbumbumbumbumbumbum.

nothing.

Nothing.

Nothing.

Mel.

His heart stopped as he stared into the pillowcase, fingers gripped into the tigh fabric before releasing, cotton spilling out onto the sheets.

"Saliva." The voice traveled in the dark, and he felt her there. Not a gentle stiring like usual. A presence, solid and prounced.

I'm here.

I've been here through it all.

I've been here then and before.

I'll always be here.

The darkness filled the room, and he felt her there.

"Saliva......I....I have nothing." That mattress felt like a island under him. An iceberg in space. Where was it going. Where was it now? What did it matter? What did HE matter to anything or anyone?

Balls of cotton feel between his lap one after another as he stared out .

"She's gone. He's gone. My friends are gone. I'm...I'm just..."

His mind went to the empty luggage.

YYou're empty. I know. You've been eaten too long. The bites from you. They are all eating you alive till you aren't alive anymore. You used to be stronger when I picked you. You could lay in bed alone. You worked alone. You spoke without restraint. You kept a shell. A hard exoskeleton to keep those sweet, soft insides away from their mouths.

You aren't the only one who has lost, Mel.

"I know......I'm not the same as I was, and I thought it was for the best. I talk about myself more. I felt like I could trust people, but now all I do is hurt them.....and the rest just..... who wants to be close to this? Associated with this?"

You are rotten, Mel. A carcass left in the son to rot. It's what happens when neglect sets in. You become fowl. Putrid. Unsavory. Of course no one wants to be around that. No one wants to keep that. No one wants to return to that.

His bones felt hollow, and his skin moist. Leaning, he pressed his face into the cotton, the curled strands becoming slimy and wet with each short breath.

We need to dig, Mel.

He said nothing, but she could feel him stirring. THe walls of him around her.

Yes. You are in a dark place buried under all of them. A dark hole - and noone is coming to dig you out. You placed yourself in a grave, but you need to get back out. I want you to leave our husk there in the dirt, but in order to dig out, you need to finally do what needs to be done.

.....what?" The voice was small, and the quiet yealeded to let him speak. The movement of her was gentle as it curled around him, a soft rustle of sound and force. Everything about her had always been beneath, known and there as if ready to help him move someplace or eat him whole.

She had always been there. She hadn't gone. She was all that was left.

Eat.


There was no need to look out anymore to the room. That space had nothing. Inside here, there was movement. She was there, and he focused on her presence.

Eat?

They ate you. You need to be full again. You need energy to get out. You can't be something new with the shell of yourself. You need to let that part of you go. We need to let you Eat.

I don't know how.

It's okay. I know you.

...........you do.

Just listen to me. I'll show you how to Eat.

"I'm afraid, Saliva."

That's okay. Just listen to me. Take me, and lay down.

Dropping the pillow, he reached out, fingers sliding past the lamb and glasses to the slender, red pen on his nightstand. Moving the covers over his head, he laid down on the mattress and looked out from under the sheets.

Here, he could feel her move around and around, coiling around him as he funneled down lower and lower, smaller and smaller until he hardly felt like he was there at all.

There was no heartbeat, but the sound of movement in a circle around and round slowly as the pen rested in his palm.

In the nothing, the weight of her resonated.