Murmur

Watching her sleep had quickly become one of his favorite past times, and that realization slowly began to creep him out.

Logan kept telling himself that it wasn't really that strange, that it was merely a side effect of his own insomnia. It wasn't as if he was sketchily climbing through Kandi's bedroom window late at night or anything along those lines; she was blissfully passed out in bed beside him. And it wasn't a wistful or pining moment. Logan wasn't lying there tucked beneath his sheets with this lovesick look of serenity stamped across his face, thinking to himself, “Wow, she looks like such an angel. I'm so lucky to be with her” and other sentiments of that nature.

Though he did care for her, it wasn't like that at all. This wasn't that sort of moment from the Aerosmith song.

Watching her sleep shared more similarities with watching some fucked up performance art than it did with watching a baby or a puppy nap peacefully. Logan never really knew what to expect when her body flopped onto the mattress beside him and her breathing slowed because every night was a different show.

But on this particular night, he'd gotten lucky. Tonight was one of those rare nights when his girlfriend fell into actual deep sleep and he could hear muffled snores push their way past her parted lips. Stretched out on her stomach on top of the comforter, he could barely make out the hem of one of his white cotton v-necks as it rested gathered up along her hipbone, the fabric gently wavering with each of her breaths. One leg was thrown over his thighs, her muscles limp yet heavy as one arm spanned the space between them. As she dreamed, her eyelashes fluttered against her fair skin, the delicate motion contrasted by the sloppy way her mouth gaped open like a fish out of water, leaving the pillowcase slightly damp.

It wasn't glamorous by any means, but somehow he couldn't help but think it was cute because he couldn't imagine her sleeping any other way.

More often, her nights were restless, leaving Logan to spend the hours struggling to dodge flailing limbs, forceful knees, and elbow jabs. Sometimes when he woke up the next morning, his own milky skin would be peppered with faint yellow-green bruises, his own nocturnal battle scars, but he never let her know. Even the day after he'd been awoken in the first few morning hours by a firm backhand to the face, he didn't bring it up. It had hurt like hell, but he didn't want to embarrass her because he knew she couldn't help it.

But Logan couldn't pretend that he hadn't already tried taking matters into his own hands. Some nights, he tried to hold her, letting his arms snake around her waist and pull her closer against his chest, his chin resting against her shoulder. But he could never keep her like that. She couldn't fall asleep on her side, and it was extremely difficult to hold someone while they're lying on their stomach, especially when her shoulder blades began to bury into his cheek with even the slightest movement. Even if he could've managed to keep her in his grasp, with all of her tossing, turning, and kicking, she would've fought to free herself in her dreams.

As Logan subtly shifted his weight, tucking an arm behind his head, he stole a sidelong glance at her, the motion only eliciting a sudden twitch from the leg slung across him and a groggy groan from her throat.

When she wasn't snoring, Kandi often talked in her sleep, but it was rarely anything coherent. Logan could pick out a few words every now and again, but it was never enough for him to string a sentence together. Sometimes he'd recognize his own name thrown into the mix, two drawn out syllables murmured into the down pillow beneath her head. She always had a way of catching him off-guard, and he'd immediately answer her, forgetting she was asleep.

With every little unconscious moment he observed, he couldn't help but wonder how he looked while he slept, if he talked, snored, or rolled around beneath the sheets. Though he'd never know for sure, Logan was sure that he whispered her name in his sleep.