Must be why you're crying broken glass

[m_pinocchio]

Somehow he knows it's happened before he opens his eyes. It's hard to say what's changed--a quality of the absence of light behind his eyelids, something in the very weight of his head, or something even deeper and more primal. But he knows it. He turns against Tom's back, presses close and tries to breathe

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[little_moons]

"Mike?" I murmur, half asleep and my eyes cracked open in the morning light. It's early, still, and I can see the shape of him, sitting up in bed at my side. It takes a few moments for my eyes to focus, blinking away the haze of sleep until I see that he's holding a hand in front of his face, testing his eyes the way I've caught him at least once over the last few days.

"Hey," I say, slowly rolling upright, rubbing sleep from my eyes and resting a hand on his arm.

[out_of_realm]

When Mike turned, Tom moved his hand over his stomach in a sleepy, thoughtless touch, just enjoying the feel of the other man's heat against his. And then Neil's voice. The feel of the bed moving. Morning, like every other morning.

And then reality filtered in. He cracked an eye, looking up at Mike silently with a small, fragile smile.

"Hey," he said, voice foggy with sleep.

The world keeps going on and on.

[m_pinocchio]

"It happened," he says quietly, and drops his hand and looks out at the world through a gaze gone slightly flat, a gaze that isn't horrible or painful or any of the things he might have expected. It just is, and in a way he's glad that there was never any hope of doing anything about it.

[little_moons]

Resting my chin on his shoulder, eyelids still heavy with sleep in that way that they'll stay until I get a cup or two of coffee in me, I reach up and gently touch the side of his face, still covered in angry bruises.

I don't say it, but I'm almost relieved. The whole waiting thing kinda sucked.

"You okay?"