You waited for him to pull back the covers. When did he start sleeping with the comforter over his face, anyway? He used to tell you that he hated having his face covered because he felt like he couldn’t breathe.

Now, a week later, it was routine for him to sleep like this.

You brushed his hair, even though he wouldn’t feel it. He had come home so late last night, much later than usual. He also looked worse with bloodshot eyes and greasy hair. If you could, you would’ve pushed his wobbling body into the shower.

He had barely made it into bed and you watched as he threw the covers over his entire body. You were disappointed by the act; it meant you couldn’t watch him while he slept. You couldn’t wipe away his tears as he unconsciously thrashed from bad dreams.

You felt utterly useless.

"Ah!" You snapped back into the present and worriedly placed a hand on his cheek when he threw the comforter off his face. His eyes were wide as he stared at the ceiling. He’d been sweating and crying hard. The short nap he took didn’t seem to help the tired state of his eyes.

He rolled off quickly and you sat on your side of the bed, waiting. He went to the washroom but came back quickly to fall onto the bed again, nearly landing on top of you. He was curled into a ball and you could see the way he tried to fight the tears as he squeezed your pillow tightly.

"I’m right here," you tried to tell him but he couldn’t hear any of it.

You wished he could. At least then you could tell him to go take a shower and get cleaned up while you cooked for him.

At that moment, his stomach growled. You felt his body shake a little with laughter. “I should eat something, shouldn’t I?"

You bent over him, surprised that he could hear your thoughts. “Yes, you should!" Over the past week, you hadn’t seen him eat anything at home at all. He had possibly gone out to eat but you were only there to witness him limping home from a night of drinking.

He closed his eyes again and took a deep breath. “You would tell me to shower first."

You laughed hysterically, wondering how in the world he knew that. “You really should. Your hair’s a mess." You touched his arm, leaning in closer.

He shivered and curled into a tighter ball. “I don’t know which one I should do first."

"Who cares? Do both!"

He didn’t hear you, though. He had fallen asleep.

It was noon. You wished you could cook something for him. You wished you could use the phone and call for pizza. Anything to get him up and out of this miserable state.

Ten minutes later, he jerked awake, holding his head and panting hard. You hated that you were the cause of all this. He had never been one to get nightmares but now he got them quite frequently. You suspected he slept less and less just to avoid them.

He rolled onto his back and groaned, pulling his arms over his face. He winced when his hands hit the nightstand in the process.

You bit your lip at how the little box on the nightstand tipped to the ground. It was your wedding ring, or, at least, would’ve been your wedding ring.

He seemed to notice it, too, as he finally turned over to grab it off the floor. Leaning on his elbow, he opened it and stared at the diamond ring. You couldn’t see his expression but you knew you were about to cry.

You huddled closer to him, relishing in the way his strong back radiated warmth. It ended too quickly, though, and he set the ring box back on the table. He stumbled out of the room but you didn’t have the strength to follow.

He would go to work after changing his clothes. Then he wouldn’t be back until 2, 3, maybe 4am. You hated this routine but there was nothing you could do about it.

-

He came back earlier tonight and you were delighted as you waited in the living room for the door to open. But when it did, your heart sank. He was looking around the place, not bothering to take off his shoes as he hobbled in. It was as if he didn’t know where he was.

When he found the couch, he fell on it right away. You ran to his side, surprised that he didn’t even make it to the bed this time. How much had he drunk?

His complexion was blotchy and when he opened his eyes, they were bloodshot as always. He whispered something and seemed to stare right at you.

“What?” you asked quietly, pretending he could see and hear you.

“Wife,” he whispered again through cracked lips.

Your tears spilled out instantly. It was as if he actually knew you were there, watching over him.

“Don’t cry,” he pleaded with a faltering smile. You stilled when you felt his hand reach up and softly wipe your cheeks.

“Y-you can see me?”

“Of course, silly,” he teased. “You are my wife. Of course I can see you.”

You were shaking with fear. What was happening? After a week of nothing, he could suddenly see you? “We…we aren’t married yet.”

“We were supposed to be married last week. Last week passed.”

“You’re hallucinating…” you said through shaky breaths.

He had a sad smile as he reached for you. “You were always like that, disagreeing with me whenever I said something nice about us.”

“Babe, something’s wrong,” you cried as he pulled you on top of him, letting you rest your head on top of him.

“Nothing’s wrong,” he sighed, your hair. “We’re together now.”

You cried against his chest, listening to his slow heartbeat. Something was wrong with him, you knew it. But, as worried as you were, you were still selfish. You missed the way he used to hold you and you wanted to savour this moment.

He fell asleep soon enough and you slipped out, sitting on the ground beside him, sobbing. You told yourself that you would try to talk to him again in the morning, after a good night’s sleep.

But he didn’t wake up. He just kept sleeping. At first, you had thought the worst but then you realized you hadn’t seen his ghost. You pressed your ear against his chest and heard his heart beating.

He was still alive so why wasn’t he waking up? It was midafternoon. He would have to get to work soon.

An entire day passed. You hadn’t stopped crying for hours. The phone rang a few times but he didn’t wake up at all. You wished you could call for an ambulance but, no matter how often you tried, it never worked.

How come nobody came to check on him? Where were all his neighbours? Weren’t they suspicious that he wasn’t coming out?

You even tried shaking him awake but he didn’t stir in the slightest. He had so much left to do in the world, how could he just sleep like this?

In the back of your head, a horrible thought tugged at you. If he was going to waste his life, why couldn’t he die so at least you’d be able to see him again?

You shook your head furiously. He had a life ahead of him, you knew it. He couldn’t die so soon. He couldn’t spend it sleeping either.

But by the end of the second day, he still hadn’t woken up.

On the third day, when his cheeks had gone sallow and lost most of their colour, somebody finally came in.

But they carried him to the hospital, where you couldn’t go. You couldn’t leave this place. You couldn’t see him unless he came back and he wouldn’t come back until he woke up.

You stayed in that apartment, weeping.

—-

_{i had to google if you could slip into a coma after alcohol poisoning. after reading articles for two minutes, i decided that you could v_v if i offended anybody with this scenario, please know that i didn’t mean to. i don’t have the intention to offend anybody with any of my writing; they’re all for recreational reading (:}