It was the fourth night. The fourth night since his promise. The room was filled with soft breaths and the steady fall of the rain. Charlotte brought her knees closer, resting her head as she let her eyes follow the raindrops falling on the window. Droplets that collect and fall, collect and fall, until they hit the pane, and there's nowhere else to go. She felt a soft chill creeping and sighed as she tugged the thin hood over her head. The rainfall is steady and she can feel the cold air through the window, but she doesn't move from her place. The small bench barely enough room for two, "...but always enough room for-"

A gentle cough stirred her from her thoughts and she fixed her head to the direction of the sound. Soft turning and silence. It was late. Silently rising from the window, she gently pulled the blinds and lowered herself to the floor, hands searching in the darkness. It was only the cold wooden floor until she felt the soft fabric brush against her fingers. Lifting it up, she tried to warm it best she could, and with gentle, intended steps she made her way to the beds. Pulling the thrown blankets back to where they belong, she placed the new blanket on top, then breathed into her hands, wanting to brush the bangs away from the sleeping face. 

But merely moments away from the touch, she whipped her hands back, freezing in her place. The door creaked open and she instinctively took a step back, deeper within…

“Charlie?”

The whisper. It came so suddenly, and instantly, she relaxed. Internally, she cursed. He always did this to her, and she always let him. A silent breath hitched from and she heard the small quiver in her voice, “You’re back.”

So close and yet so far, that was always how she wanted them to be. Together but with distance.

She felt him step forward silently, but the wooden floors would fail his efforts and a soft hum would escape his lips. Then another step, with a stronger sound. Exasperation left him and she smiled. Against the streetlights creeping through the blinds, she could just barely make out his silhouette. And the gentle droplets hitting the floor.

“You didn’t take the umbrella I gave you…” the disappointment so blatant in her tone, she could feel him searching for the right answer.

“I…lost it,” he managed a small laugh.

She smiled, knowing he couldn’t see her nor she him. 

His movements were a blur, but she saw him make his way to the windows, tracing the wooden blinds that covered the windows…and he sat. Just opposite from where she was waiting for him.

“I always tell you not to wait for me.”

She sighed, lowering her body to the floor, she sat against the bedpost, being careful not to stir the child from sleep and winced from the chill of the floor, “And you know I never listen. What is it that you do, why is it that you can’t tell me, and why is it that…”

"You always want to know more when I can't see you."

There was silence.

His voice changed, lifting with some tone of hope, “Sit next to me.”

She never responded and they sat in the silence. Knowing this was her comfort; this was home.