Chapter Text
“Don't,” Lauren says, catching at his wrist as Dyson moves to rise. “Stay.”
He lowers himself back onto Lauren’s sofa, where they’ve been sitting side by side making their way through a bottle of whiskey. Two bottles of whiskey, he corrects himself, glancing at the coffee table.
“I can’t --” Lauren gestures with her empty glass, a careless ellipsis that's contradicted by the bruising grip of her fingers on his wrist. “ -- not alone.” Wait for her, she means.
He inhales. It’s … good, he thinks in surprise. It’s good not to sit with his terror alone.
“Me neither,” he admits. “I’ll stay."