I woke the following morning to find Brad gone, and a text that said, Sorry for last night. Thanks for helping me get through it.
The bed smelled like two people had been in it, but the spare pillow, which I’d expected to have been askew, was still in its ordinary spot.
“Guess that pill really knocked me out,” I mumbled while running a hand through my dark hair.
I considered the room, undisturbed as it happened to be, and frowned as memories of last night flooded back to me.
The name haunted me, like a siren song meant to pull me to the depths of the ocean. Beautiful, yet at the same time, chaotic, it caused a flicker of unease to spark at the base of my neck and trail down my spine. A shiver naturally followed, and though it was obviously not cold in the middle of summer, I felt an immense discomfort in light of everything that had occurred the night before.
But, what did it all mean?
Nothing, I thought. It meant nothing at all.
Brad simply suffered auditory hallucinations as a result of his migraines—nothing more, nothing less. And as to his coming to my room in his underwear, well... that didn’t mean anything either, other than that he was comfortable with me.
Or off his gourd, I thought.
I couldn’t blame him, though. He wasn’t feeling well, and likely not in the best headspace to begin with.
I decided, then and there, that I was better off not dwelling on it.
If Brad wanted to bring it up at a later date, he could.
I had other things to worry about.