Even Lovers Drown

Exhaustion threatened to send Saylor to the parking lot pavement, the sleep-deprived state leaving her weak against gravity's forces. Her whole body felt twenty pounds heavier. Every movement took far too much energy. Heavy eyelids and pained eyes demanded she sleep, let them relax so they could function properly. Her shoulders slouched, no excess energy available to hold them up. Standing in her spot and watching Davy attempt to unlock the U-haul was the most she could manage.

She sipped her energy drink, hoping the beverage could live up to the title and give her energy to get through the long day ahead. Unloading would kick off a day of heavy lifting, folding shirts, putting up displays, and rude customers. She needed all the help she could get to stay alive.

The long night didn't have an effect on Davy. He was functioning just fine, his body used to getting no sleep. His energy drink consumption, on the other hand, did leave him jittery. He wouldn't be much help decorating the table, unless they wanted glitter everywhere. Hopefully, Sarah and Jenny could pick up their slack.

Judging by the number of times Davy shooed them away from helping him stick the key in the U-haul lock, Saylor wasn't counting on them getting the chance.

A quiet "Hey" in Blake's smooth voice broke Saylor's barely focused attention. Not willing to waste energy she didn't have on a full body turn, she turned her head. Blake stood next to her, hands shoved in her pockets, blonde curls in their usual messy state. Like in the locker room, Saylor didn't notice her approach and didn't catch a glimpse of her standing there in her peripheral vision. But last night, she had snuck up on Saylor, hadn't made a single noise to make her presence known. Today was different. Today, exhaustion clouded Saylor's mind. Blake could have run in front of her five times, banging pans and popping firecrackers, and she wouldn't have noticed.

Saylor did catch her warm smile before it dropped and was replaced with a frown. Blake's eyebrows drew together, decorating her forehead with worry lines. Her blue eyes traveled the length of Saylor's body, not uncomfortable ogling but concerned assessment.

"Are you okay?" Blake asked.

"Fantastic," Saylor mumbled.

"You look tired."

More like she was ready to collapse. Even her voice sounded almost deadpan due to fatigue, the sultry tone hidden somewhere in her vocal cords. Blake wanted to carry her to the tour bus and make her take a nap, at the very least slip an arm around her waist to keep her standing.

"I've been up all night," Saylor said. She took another futile sip of her drink, then gazed at the can. "I don't think this is working anymore." Shrugging, she tossed the drink into a nearby trashcan.

An energy drink. Blake recognized the shiny blue can, knew Davy's and Hayden's preferred energy drink existed within that container. Mass amounts of that drink kept Saylor up through the night, and Blake knew whose irresponsibility lead to the dangerous over consumption.

"You converted her to an energy drink guzzler?" Blake yelled at Davy.

Their official title, because they were as bad as gas guzzling cars. Energy drinks held their place as Davy's second most consumed drink next to orange soda and Hayden's only consumed drink.

Davy snapped around to face her, letting the lock bang against the U-haul door. Raising an eyebrow and placing his hands on cocked hips, he yelled, "Are you questioning my greatness?"

"We don't need anymore people hyped up on energy drinks. You and Hayden are quite enough, thank you."

"Shut up, peasant," he demanded and turned back to the U-haul lock.

Apparently, Saylor hadn't been alone in the nightlong energy drink consumption. Impaired judgment, abrupt conversation ends, and stupid phrases only meant Davy had too much caffeine, a state typically brought on by the caffeine-packed punch of multiple energy drinks. The fans visiting Saylor and Davy's merch table would be in for a treat.

Blake looked at Saylor again. A very small trace of amusement settled in her green eyes. At least, lack of sleep didn't leave her too cranky. For now. Who knew how many fans would get stabbed with plastic forks by the end of the night? Blake wasn't sure she would even last till the concert without her body giving up.

And that worried her further. She didn't want Saylor to hurt herself by trying to stay awake for the sake of her job. Davy wouldn't mind giving her a night off if she needed, and she needed it tonight. But Blake didn't think Saylor cared much whether or not she was hurting herself by drinking those death beverages. She could have been drinking them on purpose, using them as a more acceptable and unnoticeable way to hurt herself because cigarette burns were too hard to hide.

"He shouldn't have let you drink those," Blake said.

The tenderness in her voice made Saylor's abnormally-beating heart melt. Blake was worried over one night of no sleep and energy drinks. Possibly one of the worst decisions she had made on tour and Blake wasn't reprimanding her for not moving, let alone not working. Katie would have called her every rude and self-esteem-killing name she could come up with.

"I wasn't going to sleep anyway."

"The van's that uncomfortable?"

"Something like that."

Not an affirmative or a negative. Whatever made her refuse to sleep was going to stay Saylor's secret. Blake wanted to know if she contributed to her sleep-deprivation, if seeing the burns on her wrist had caused a continual replayed scene in her mind that kept her awake and thinking of ways to explain herself. After all, the image of Saylor's scarred wrist kept Blake awake till the early hours of the morning. Every possible scenario for the cause of those marks ran through Blake's head, each more frightening than the last, till she picked one that seemed the most likely. Had Saylor done the same thing in figuring out what to say to her, playing each possible scenario and forming a speech accordingly?

Saylor didn't know she wouldn't pry, wouldn't demand she tell her the reason for the marks. She just wanted Saylor to be okay. She didn't want to hurt her. And Saylor would be busy worrying about potential questions until Blake let her know that she wasn't going to ask anything.

"Did you get my text? I wasn't sure if I had the right number," Blake said.

Saylor stared at her, wheels of her mind slowly turning. There was a text from Blake? She didn't remember receiving one from anyone, let alone from Blake. Most of her night was a blur of energy drink chugging, dancing to terrible music, and listening to Davy gossip. But she couldn't remember Blake texting her.

Resisting the urge to pull out her phone and check, Saylor quickly ran a mental list of things she did last night, anything that would jog her slower-than-normal memory. Receiving a text from Blake should have been a memorable occurrence, especially after Blake's glimpse of her wrist scars.

The apology text signed in Blake's name blared in her mind, so obvious Saylor felt a little stupid for forgetting. She was supposed to remember that she needed to assure her she was fine and the scars were of no importance.

"Oh right, your text," Saylor said, "Sorry, I didn't reply. Look, about what happened in the locker-room—"

"It's forgotten," Blake cut in, "I just wanted to make sure I didn't upset you."

Not truly forgotten. The scars wouldn't be forgotten. Saylor's new, checkered, rainbow wristband couldn't cover up what she had seen, couldn't erase the image. Blake just didn't want her to worry about making excuses or false explanations. Saylor would tell her if she wanted her to know. And if she didn't, she wouldn't tell her.

Saylor hesitated. Forgotten. As in, Blake wasn't going to ask questions about the scars. Instead, Blake was worried about upsetting her. Strange but nerve-easing at the same time.

She shook her head. "No, no, you didn't upset me. Of course not."

"Good."

And Blake's worried expression melted back into a smile. Gorgeous, sincere, capable of causing Saylor's heart to flutter. Blake cared about upsetting her, wanted to make her comfortable, wanted to talk to her. She changed so drastically from the sexual-comment-throwing woman she met, the one that demanded Saylor want to sleep with her. The confidence was still there and the player side of her could probably be turned on without hesitation, but she was being more respectful. Saylor liked the change.

Blake was becoming the polar opposite of Katie the more Saylor got to know her.

"Ah-ha," Davy exclaimed, forcing Blake and Saylor to look at him.

He tossed the U-haul lock to the pavement, not caring where it landed, and slid the door open. Triumphant, he turned and struck his "superhero" pose, hands on his hips, feet shoulder length apart, and "serious, crime-fighting" pout on his face.

"Finally," Sarah said jokingly.

"Took you long enough," Jenny added.

"Get to work, slaves," Davy demanded.

Sarah and Jenny pushed themselves up from the cement block that acted as their perch while Davy spent time on the lock, rolling their eyes. They didn't say anything in response, though, just walked to the U-haul, grabbed one box each, and began walking to the backstage door. Clearly, Davy's hyper attitude was doing nothing to pump them for the day.

Saylor gave Blake a sluggish smile. "Guess I have to get to work. See you around."

She walked to the truck, forgetting somewhere in her tired mind to let Blake say her own farewell. Blake trailed after her, not leaving her side. Even when Saylor reached into the van for a box, she didn't leave but stood there, shifting from foot to foot and watching her.

"I can take your spot to let you nap," Blake said, "You look like you need it."

"Don't worry about it. I'll be fine," Saylor said, pulling her box from the truck and balancing it in her arms.

"Are you sure? Here let me take that for you."

Blake grabbed the surprisingly heavy cardboard box before she could receive another reassurance that Saylor would be fine. With a parting smile to a stunned Saylor and a confused Davy, she followed the path she recalled Sarah and Jenny taking.

Saylor stared after Blake, arms holding an imaginary merchandise box. She glanced at her arms, then at Blake's departing form. Her mind couldn't seem to process the situation. One second, she was holding a box, the next, Blake took said box and was walking to the venue. She looked up at Davy, hoping he would be able to provide some insight, but he looked at her with an equally confused expression.

"The fuck just happened?" he asked.

"I don't know."