Pairing: Unspecified. I had one in mind while writing it, but I want you to choose your own.
Disclaimer: It's good thing they aren't mine. I imagine I would see the characters as something like Barbie dolls, and I used to mutilate my Barbie dolls.
Summary: She closed her eyes, but found it impossible to sleep without the crackling sound of fire or the crashing sound of the waves. She even missed the mystery noises of the jungle. She couldn't sleep without them. And without him.
The first thought she had when she stepped off the boat was that she felt filthy. On the island cleanliness hadn't mattered so much. Everyone was dirty and grimy, and with the heat the feeling of sweatiness became the norm. But now that she was off the island, looking into the clean faces of spectators and newscasters, in the air conditioned building, she suddenly felt dirtier than she ever had. A few of the other survivors had showered on the boat, some hadn't. She had just fallen onto a bed and slept through the entire trip.
She felt alien compared to the clean and stylish masses who came to greet the "Miracle Survivors." Her hair was long and tangled, her skin burned, her clothes baggy. She was wearing last year's fashions, and her hair had grown out from the trendy style she had before the crash. She felt the need to shield herself from the faces and the cameras. She was embarrassed.
When she got to the hotel she immediately took a shower. She decided it was the best shower she had ever taken. She stayed in long after the water had gone cold. She washed her hair, her body, over and over, scrubbing off the time she had spent on the island. Trying to rid herself of the experience. She felt strange, bathing without the worry in the back of her mind of one of the other survivors stumbling upon her.
The hotel room was empty and still, and she was surprised by how nervous that made her. She felt strangely naked without at least a dozen other busy people working and living around her. For the first time in longer than she could remember, she was completely alone.
She took off her clean robe, and put her clean body, which was clothed in clean pajamas, between the clean sheets of the soft, large hotel bed. She closed her eyes, but found it impossible to sleep without the crackling sound of fire or the crashing sound of the waves. She even missed the mystery noises of the jungle. She couldn't sleep without them.
And without him.
She couldn't believe that she could no longer sleep without a breathing body beside her. She had done it for years before they had crashed on the island. But she knew it wasn't just about a breathing body. It was about that particular breathing body.
She turned on the television, hoping the sound would lull her to sleep, but she was disturbed by what was on the screen. It was clearly a new movie, but it was one she had never heard of. All the commercials were for store and bands and celebrities she had either never heard of or long forgot.
She turned the TV off and laid back in bed. She had grown so used to sleeping on the ground that the bed was uncomfortable. The fluffy pillows weren't nearly as comfortable as his shoulder.
She debated her options. She could stay in the bed, sleepless, and risk the possibility of never seeing him again once he boarded the plane that would take him home. Or she could leave her room, run down the hall, and knock on his door. She imagined how that could play out. He could reject her. He could tell her to leave. He hadn't even spoken to her on the boat. Of course she had been asleep, but that had never stopped him before.
She finally crawled out of bed and walked out of the room. She had decided that the Best Case Scenario outweighed the Worst Case Scenario. She swallowed all her fear and blindly followed instinct. She knocked on his door, and it went unanswered, for what seemed like an eternity. Finally, just when she was about to turn away, the door opened.
He leaned against the door frame, in his own pair of neat, crisp, hotel pajamas. She was shocked to see how clean he was. He seemed almost a stranger now, without his torn clothes and matted hair. His eyes were tired, just like hers, and the burned into her, waiting for her to speak.
"Hi," she said, choking out the word. She felt as though she were speaking to someone she had never met before, but when he smiled at her, she knew her was the same man she had so quickly fallen for on the island.
"Hi," he said back.
"Couldn't sleep," she explained.
He was silent as her turned away from the door and back into the room, but they had never needed words. She knew to follow him to the bed, and to climb in after him. She rested her head against his shoulder, and he wrapped his arms around her, stroking her hair, kissing her forehead. And the bed may have been softer than a cave floor, and the room may have been quieter than the island, but at least with his she felt like she was home.