The sky is getting its first hint of light when Sean’s alarm goes off at five. The diner opens at six.
Sean stirs in his arms. He’s yawning, eyes fluttering. He reaches out blindly and smacks the top of the alarm clock. The room falls silent.
Mike waits.
But he knows.
It’s only a few seconds later when Sean stiffens. His eyes snap open, wide and almost fearful. He rears his head back and says, “Who are you and what’re you doing in my—”
He stops.
Looks around.
Looks back at Mike.
His gaze softens. He says, “Mike?”
“Yeah?” Mike says.
“Hey,” he says. “Hey.” He lays his head down on the pillow, nose brushing against Mike’s. “When did you get here?”
Mike’s smile is a fragile thing, held together by the fiercely whispered promise that this was real, that this was all real. “Last night,” he says, and his voice is somehow calm. Somehow even. “I just… I needed….”
“Bad dream?” Sean traces his fingers over Mike’s eyebrow. It’s almost enough to cause Mike to burst into tears right there.
“Yeah,” he says.
“You should have woken me up when you got here,” Sean says. “First time I have you in my bed and I miss most of it.”
“Next time,” and it’s both a promise and a curse.
Sean cocks an eyebrow. “Sure of yourself, aren’t you, big guy?”
Mike laughs, though his heart is breaking. “I guess.”
Sean frowns, like he can hear everything Mike isn’t saying. “Hey. You okay?”
He thinks, No. No, I’m not. I’m alone. I’m alone in this. And that’s worse than insanity. I’m on an island and I’m alone.
He says, “Yeah.”
HE GOES home to shower and change.
Martin rubs against his legs.
He’s out the door and down the road.
The bell rings overhead as he walks into the diner.
Everyone seated raises a hand or calls out, “Morning, Mike!”
Calvin, Donald, and Happy salute him with their coffee mugs.
Walter’s behind the grill and tips his spatula toward Mike.
&
nbsp; Sean’s there behind the lunch counter. He winks and says, “Hey, big guy. Long time, no see.”