She paused, weary and afraid. The emptiness surrounding her seemed to mock her. Doubts plagued her viciously for a brief second before she pushed the fear aside and continued, stumbling ungracefully in the dark, arms out searching like a blind man, feeling for support of obstacles and the wall.

The door loomed into sight, bathed weakly by the light pouring from the stiff street lamps outside.

She gulped, nervous but determined. Engulfed by hesitation, she lingered, cold.

Goosebumps lined her arms and legs, the delicate hairs at the back of her neck stood erect and stiff. She grew terrified, more so by every second that tickled by into the abyss.

She swallowed again.

Her hands started sweating uncontrollably despite the fact that it was winter; she was only clad in an overlarge t-shirt he gave her and silk boxers. She was freezing. And she was burning too, at the exact same time. Liquid fire and icy heat singe taut nerves, almost snapping.

She wanted to get it over and done with quickly but couldn't bring herself it. It seemed like mission impossible, yet it was so simple. She forced her shaky legs to start moving again.

Upon reaching his door, her worries intensified until it hurt her to breathe. Thinking was too tedious and she struggled to regain her wits. Courage fled her. She stared at his door, blankly, contemplating even though she knew what her decision would come to.

Taking a deep breath and expelling the air from her lungs violently, she reached for the cool brass handle with her clumsy fingers and turned the handle.

The door creaked as she pushed it open. Pitch black greeted her. It was so tempting to turn tail and run... he would never know. She could save herself the awkward humiliation right now if she left.


She had to do this.

Inching closer towards the general direction of his bed, she held her breath, praying desperately this would work out. She knew there was a slim chance it would but it never hurt to pray.

Her foot hit a blunt object and she squeaked in alarm, pain shooting up her leg from her large toe. Cursing herself in silence, she picked up her pace and tumbled messily onto his bed, frozen in brief panic.

He didn't move. His breathing was slow and rhythmic. She breathed a sigh of relief and disappointment. True, she didn't have to confront him angry and sleep in the middle of the night but this only prolonged the agony she was going to face in the morning.

She couldn't stop shivering. No one knew how long she sat there in the darkness, shivering ferociously, perched as an uncomfortable tangled mess upon the corner of his bed with the open door, the walls witnessing her eternal shame. Eventually, she gathered the strength to crawl toward him, draw back the covers and slip underneath the duvets, next to his warm body.

She lay there, debating for a few minutes before gathering weak arms to lock around his waist and snuggling against his naked broad back.

She closed her eyes and let out a shaky breath. She made the journey. She was here now. She didn't want to think about when morning comes and he would wake to find her in his bed clinging to him like an abandoned kitten.

She forced her body to relax. Her muscles slowly unknotted and the tension drained from her body. Eventually, she dozed off into a light slumber.

In the darkness, he smirked triumphantly.

She came crawling back. As predicted...

He always won.

Short. Precise. Vague but clear. My reoccuring dream that won't leave me alone. Comments?