Yet he’s never seen that the night sky is a blanket of velvet, thick and soft and almost pulsing in the air. Something alive. And it seems that if he could just open the window, if he could just find a way to get outside, the sky would wrap its arms around him and hold him up.

He’s never noticed the way the shadows seem to overwhelm the room. Everything in shades of grey. And they seem to move, slithering back and forth, back and forth, now that there is nothing for them to hide behind. Or nothing else for Brian to focus on. Because the furniture is gone, all the meaningless accoutrements of his life are gone, and there’s no one to blame for that but himself. He can tell himself that the shadows only slip and slide across the hardwood when the clouds cross the moon, and intellectually he knows it’s true. But he still feels a shiver down his spine, and he resolutely turns his back on the room and returns to watching the sky.

The darks presses against the window, pushing at the feeble barrier that separates them.

Brian leans his forehead against the window and wonders that the glass can be so cool against his skin, wonders if perhaps he’s feverish, wonders why his hands are splayed against the glass and why the ground looks so far away.

His eyes close, and he sees mirrored velvet. Presses his eyelids tighter to find the stars.

Then strong arms wrap around his waist. Justin’s head dips to Brian’s spine, his hair brushing gently against Brian’s back. Justin’s lips move on Brian’s skin as he murmurs a question -- “Can’t sleep?” -- and his mouth is warm and wet and soft. His hand moves in a lazy circle on Brian’s stomach. Oddly comforting.

Brian opens his eyes, and the sky is just the sky.

Brian turns in his arms and looks into Justin’s eyes, and his breath comes out in a rush. Justin smiles sleepily, and rests his weight against him, and doesn’t know that when his arms are around Brian, he pushes the shadows back. Not completely. But just enough. Enough that Brian can breathe again. Enough that Brian can think again. Enough that Brian can hope again.