It was a few minutes past one in the morning. Although Ryan had willingly told Ariel he’d sleep over to keep her company, now that he was alone, in Ariel’s living room, nothing felt right.

Ryan shifted and turned beneath his sleeping bag that served as a makeshift blanket, spread across his body like the skin of a deceased animal. His back was rested against the two soft pillows of Ariel’s sofa, that gave under Ryan’s weight, right in the middle of his spine.

He blinked. It was evident to Ryan, that he was not going to sleep tonight.

The young man shut his eyes once more. He listened to the sound of cars passing by in the streets down below, the laughter in the apartment next door, and Ariel’s whimpered cries, that—it seemed—she so desperately attempted to hide, due to how muffled they were.

Was it because of the break-up? Ryan asked himself, as a frown overtook his dull features. Ah, but then again, he thought, that he had never heard her cry like this for anyone, or anything, before in his life.

This type of sadness was the kind one expressed when they longed for places they could not go to. People, they would never see again. And as much as Ryan tried to ignore it—he did not want to bother, or embarrass Ariel, who likely thought Ryan had long fallen asleep—Ryan could not take it anymore.

He rose to his feet.

He walked over to Ariel’s bedroom.

The door was not fully closed. Inside, the lights were on. A mountain of scrunched tissue papers were discarded across the floor.