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The last refuge of the insomniac is a sense of superiority to the sleeping world - Leonard Cohen

That night, Liz couldn't sleep to save her life. Tossing and turning, she first stuffed the pillow over her head and then back under it, unable to find a proper balance of comfort and temperature. By the time she got comfortable the pillow heated up and it all just went to hell. Her mind was racing. Sitting up she clutched the pillow and just observed the darkness in front of her. The weight of the world descended down upon her once again and she thought about getting the damn pills already. But her muscles refused to budge an inch. So she spent yet another hour awake and staring into the darkness in front of her. The coffee table that North spent many hours behind now seemed like an apparition, the dark wood disappearing in the darkness, sections of it illuminated by the streetlight outside the living room window. Fuzzy shadows interspaced with an orange glow were cast on the wall opposite the sofa, light drifting into the area of the stairs. Words that she didn't know she wanted to say suddenly appeared in her mind. Just to see how it would sound like, she whispered the word 'suicide' into the night. It felt grotesque and cold. Pulling her knees to her chin, Liz sighed and stared at the stairs, remembering the night when Michael fell down them and they had to drag him to the hospital and all that happened on the way there. At least she'd always have the memory of him running his talon over her lower back in the world's strangest injury-induced display of affection. Ideas of death and loneliness appeared in her mind once again. This was here. This was now. She was awake in the middle of the night on her sofa, unemployed and in the midst of a sanity slippage. Ultimately it wouldn't matter what memories she had. If thoughts could keep you warm at night, she thought to herself. Footsteps broke the silence, slow and deliberate, the soft tapping against the floor infinitely distant in the seething night. Liz turned her attention to the stairs and saw someone familiar descending. It was Michael.

"What are you doing awake?" Liz whispered concernedly "Go to sleep, you maniac."

"Can't." He replied matter-of-factly and sat down beside her, his voice hoarse and dry "I've spent so long asleep that I just can't. Besides, we haven't spoken in so long. Something just told me you were awake."

Liz moved closer to him in the dark. He stared at the ceiling, yawning, wings firmly crossed on his chest. She bit her lip as words threatened to spill out of it. Not to mention that she had slept in her underwear because of the heat. But by the looks of things, so did he. Briefly she caught a glimpse of his chest in the dark. A blush worked its way over her face.

"How's your head?" Liz asked. He pulled a blanket out from underneath him and stretched his arm over the backrest. "Been better" Michael replied and looked at Liz. There was just something about her face that looked so adorable in the half-light of the early morning.

"Listen, I..." He began but stopped himself, unaware of how he should continue "Everything you've told me the other day when you thought I was asleep..."

One of Liz's paws flew up to her mouth. Oh no, she thought to herself, here it comes. She was absolutely certain that he was asleep. That he hadn't heard a single damn thing. That what he had just said was nothing more than a bad dream and that it would all just disappear in a moment when she woke up. But this was real. This was now.

"I'm sorry. You've had a hard life." He continued, his face now inches away from her, his breath warm on her cheek. The fact that he was whispering somehow made the whole thing infinitely more personal. "Then I heard you sobbing. The amount of self-control that it took for me not to embrace you and tell you that everything was going to be alright..." Liz stood up and walked around the table, pacing in front of the stairs like she usually did when she was nervous about something. Something made her doubt Michael's words, past experience in particular.

"Tell me, Michael, why do you care?" She stopped and looked right at him "What am I to you? I'm just some girl that you happen to share an apartment with. Yes, I have a fucked-up past, but so do many other people. If I did to anyone else what I did to you, they'd never talk to me again."

"If you'd just hear me out, I'd..." Michael spoke but was cut off mid-sentence. "Why am I even here? I just wanted a change in my life. I just wanted to be the person I could never be. Everyone around me always told me I'd be a fuckup and I just wanted some peace of fucking mind." Liz continued, her whisper now a hiss "And these feelings I'm having for you...I can't fucking explain it. I feel dirty, I feel low, I feel like I shouldn't think like that. Like it's somehow forbidden to fall for someone so quickly. And now it's all gone to hell and you guys will kick me the fuck out and-"

Michael stood up, walked over to Liz and hugged her tightly, pressing her into his chest. In an instant, a great warmth overtook the snow leopard and she began to stutter into his feathers, clutching him. Tears fell from her eyes as her entire body shook with forceful sobs. They just stood like that in the darkness, in one another's arms, Michael running his fingers through her hair, moving his hand over the small of her back as his chest grew damp.

"Listen to me. I like you, I really do. You're broken and I'm broken and it's all fucked up. I'll help you the best I can, even if it kills me." He whispered into her ear and kissed the top of her head "The world's going to hell, everyone's insane, there's no purpose to anything and we all die alone. That's all I know. Come to bed?"

Liz nodded and they walked up the stairs, into a realm beyond that of tears and sadness, into a realm of togetherness. Somehow she knew everything would be okay. At least as long as he walked by her side and she walked by his. Her eyes burned from the tears but she lacked the energy to wipe them away. They curled up together, Michael wrapping both his wings around Liz, her tears and sobs replaced by a complacent smile and a soft snore. The eagle felt a sudden spike of warmth deep inside his chest in a place he thought had been forsaken for years now. Tenderly he spun a web of hair around one of his talons and let it fall back into the mass of brown-black strands, inhaling deeply, savouring her scent, her being. His mind went into a state of sleepy doldrums as Liz's chest rose and fell against him. Moments later, he too collapsed into a state of blissful unconsciousness.

***

North's alarm clock radio woke him 8 am that morning and he lay in the sheets with his eyes wide open, staring at the ceiling, as the man on the radio recited today's forecasted temperatures. 120 degrees would be today's max and people were advised to stay indoors unless absolutely necessary. North sat up and moved his hair out of his eyes only to have it fall right back where he was. Haphazardly he slung his legs over the side of the bed and onto the floor. The sun blinded him and he swore under his breath. Sweat ran down his back. Stepping out of his room, he walked to Michael's and knocked on the door. Receiving no response, he turned the knob and went inside. To his surprise he found Michael on the bed, his wings draped over a familiar figure, one that he could make out even in the darkness of the room. North winced and closed the door behind him. Of course he did, the son of a bitch. Then again, when did North ever get the girl before Michael? Women loved him. Being a writer was just too goddamn romantic to pass up on. Fuming silently, North descended down the steps and made himself some rather thin breakfast. Trying to take his mind off the scene he had just witnessed, he sat down on the couch, cracked open a can of Coke and turned the Xbox on. A good round of Dark Souls should be enough to take his mind off things.

Michael awoke three hours later, his head feeling fine for the first time in days. Looking down to his side, he saw someone sleeping on the bed beside him. Remembering last night, he smiled and got up. Drowsily he stumbled over to the window and opened the curtains, sticking his head out between the folds in the cloth. His eyes burned as they adjusted to the sunlight. The sky was a bright beautiful blue, the sun a flaming dot in the sky. Michael spread his arm and felt the warmth flood his very being. He opened the curtains fully. Light burst into the room, bouncing off the white walls, crawling over the floor and into the bed. Liz appeared to him in the flesh for the first time, unhindered by any business suits or ties. Tattoos covered her skin, a Grateful Dead steal-your-face in plain view on her right shoulder accompanied by some illegible text on her shoulder blade. The sun came into contact with Liz's face and she rolled over, exposing her back. A painted dragon ran up her spine, terminating at the bottom of her neck. Months later, when Michael asked himself exactly when he fell in love with her, in utter, overwhelming love, he could only think of this very moment. She looked so content and at ease when she slept. It seemed like a fitting image after seeing her in hysterics last night.

"Good morning, sweetie." Michael said and lowered himself on the bed "How have we slept?"

Liz muttered something and rolled over, covering her face with her paw, her other arm lazily dangling from the side of the bed. She felt feathers brush against her skin as Michael kissed her on the cheek. The shape above her pulled away. She sat up and opened her eyes, the sunlight blinding her for a moment, and saw Michael sitting down on his side of the bed. Liz stopped herself for a moment and wondered when it became his side of the bed.

"What time is it?" She asked "And since when are you up and about? I thought you were supposed to be resting."

"I don't have a headache anymore. I feel fine and for all intents and purposes, I'm healthy again." Michael replied and retrieved a shirt and tie from the top of an open suitcase "So, today's Sunday and since none of us have anything important to do, I thought we could have a housewarming party or something." Liz observed his wide smile and wide open eyes and wondered if she was still asleep. The Michael she remembered was an introvert and the polar opposite of a people person. And now he wanted to have a house-warming party. Everyone's insane and we're all going to die alone, Liz thought to herself, echoing Michael's words from last night.

"Oh what the hell. Why not?"