Finding Forever

1

January 2016
Sebastian's POV

I woke in the worst way possible – suddenly, in midair – one awful, disorientating heartbeat before my body crashed to the ground with a bone-jarring thud that knocked all the air from my lungs because my limbs were still too thoroughly entangled in the sheets to be of any use in slowing my descent.

I laid there dazedly on the floor until my lungs finally remembered how to function again, unable to come up with a more reasonable explanation for why I'd practically dived out of bed in my sleep than I'd subconsciously been doing the stunt work John had me practicing earlier today.

I was grateful at least no one was here tonight to witness this...and I'd probably think twice before using the phrase 'I could do it in my sleep' again. After some effort, I managed to free one arm and sit up enough to turn on the bedside lamp; there was absolutely no way I'd be able to free myself from these damn straitjacket-wannabe sheets in the dark.

Blinking rapidly as my eyes adjusted to the sudden brightness, I groaned when I finally got a good look at my rather Houdini-esque handiwork. My heartrate jumped drastically as I realized the extent of my predicament; I'd never particularly liked being physically restrained – not even on set when a single word would have me freed – and most certainly not in my own damn bedroom.

I took a couple deep breaths and let them out slowly, forcing myself to calm down because panicking wouldn't help free me any faster. Hell, Houdini could probably get out of a real straitjacket faster than I'd be able to get myself out of this mess. I reached up behind me for my phone to snap a couple pics that I'd probably send to Chris later – just because I knew he'd get a kick out of my current situation – and set a timer to motivate myself.

Sighing heavily, I dropped my phone back on the nightstand behind me so that it didn't disappear before turning my entire focus to freeing myself.

"Two and half minutes," I announced when I was finally able to stand, stopping the timer. "Better than I expected."

As I stepped out of the snarled ball of fabric, I abruptly realized that I wasn't done yet – I still had to remake my whole damn bed if I wanted to sleep in it again tonight.

Out of patience and thoroughly annoyed by a situation I had no one to blame for except myself, I grumbled nonstop as I attempted to yank the top sheet free from the Gordian knot of fabric at my feet. After detangling the different layers of my bedding into three separate piles, I snapped the top sheet in the air several times to detangle it, allowing it to float down onto the mattress before straightening it out, repeating the process until all of them were finally on the bed again.

Turning away from my sloppily remade bed, I wiped the sweat from my forehead and padded to the kitchen to grab a fresh bottle of water. I guzzled down at least half of it as I made my way back to my bedroom, stopping short when the feeling that something was missing hit me just as I passed through the doorframe.

I didn't even have to do a visual sweep of my bed to know that nothing was missing from it – all of my pillows, sheets and covers were accounted for, as was my phone and the random assortment of clutter that lived permanently on my nightstand. The other nightstand was empty, but considering I'd been single for several months now, it'd be decidedly odd for there to be any sort of scented lotion or ChapStick or any other feminine paraphernalia on it.

I dropped my gaze and shook my head to clear it, not willing to ponder why looking at that vacant space only made the ache grow stronger. Instead, I set down the water bottle and slowly climbed back under the covers, making certain that this time to center myself in the king-sized bed – hopefully preventing another nocturnal trip to the floor tonight.