Who We Were | TWD²

.020

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    A rustling to the side of myself forces me to peel my eyes open. It's a difficult thing to do, considering how exhausted I still am and the way my eyes are swollen from the remnants of tears that had spilled down my cheeks yesterday. I hate crying before I fall asleep, especially because the tears always manage to reappear the next morning, even if only inadvertently.

I tug the soft, white sheet away from where it had been lightly pressed to my cheek, pushing myself up just enough to see Carl sitting on the edge of the bed beside me. I turn over onto my back before sliding myself up the rest of the way. By now, my subtle movements have been recognized by him and he's tossing his head over his shoulder to look at me.

"Good morning," he says with a small smile. I try to grin back, but am still too tired to do so. I push a thick strand of hair behind my ear, ignoring the fact that it's mostly tangled, and hug my knees to my chest to keep the heat within my body before it escapes from the chilly morning breeze blowing through the open window. "How'd you sleep?"

"Fine," I reply, my voice still raspy. In all honesty, my slumber was nothing exciting, but it was most definitely the best sleep that I've had in a while. I can't confirm this for sure, but I have the slightest feeling that it was because Carl was by my side throughout the whole night. I think I'll believe that to be true.

Carl dips his head back down, looking at what he's doing. I shift the slightest amount - just enough to see that he's tying his bootlaces tightly.

"Where are you going?" I ask, knitting my eyebrows together. I guess I hadn't exactly processed everything about the situation, specifically the fact that he's fully dressed and clearly getting ready to leave the house. I scoot a little closer to him, trying not to get myself caught in the mess of blankets on top of the mattress before I'm finally seated beside him, my legs dangling over the side of the bed.

Carl finishes tying the knot in his laces before turning to look at me. The minute details of his face come into the picture, such as the gentleness of his eyelashes hovering over the blue iris of his good eye, and the elusive shadow of stubble dotting his face. It makes me realize how much time has gone by and how much we've been through since we first met. Now, our faces have matured, looking more grown-up than childish. There's no longer the chubbiness of baby fat, but the sharpness of fresh jawlines. Everything really has changed.

"I'm going to Oceanside with my dad and some of the others." I stay still, trying my best to process what he's saying, but not sure if I can.

Oceanside? What is that? I rack my brain for an answer, but can't find one. The word is foreign and new to me, holding no previous memory.