One-Thirty and a Suitcase

Roy surfaced slowly from sleep, warm and tangled in blankets, his mind drifting in that soft, heavy place between dreaming and waking.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

At first it barely registered. Just another sound folded into sleep. A fragment of a dream. He lay there, breathing, listening, trying to decide if it was real.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

He frowned in the dark. Off to the side, his clock glowed faintly on the nightstand. 1:30 a.m. Shifting his body, he became uncomfortably aware of a physical reaction he had not had in years. Morning wood. He lay there, confused, mildly alarmed by his own body. What the hell had he been dreaming about?

Knock. Knock. Knock.

This time, louder.

His stomach tightened. Nobody knocked on doors at one-thirty in the morning unless something was wrong. A fire. A medical emergency. A neighbour in trouble. Although...

If there was a fire, the alarms would be going.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

More urgent now.

He swung his legs out of bed and stood, the floor cool under his bare feet. Still in his underwear, still partially erect, still partially asleep, he padded down the short hallway toward the door. His heart beat a little faster with each step.

Just before he reached for the handle, a spike of caution cut through the haze.

What if it actually was trouble? Not the kind someone was warning of, but the kind someone was trying to deliver to him.

He leaned in close to the door.

"Hello?" he called softly.

"Open up! It's Michelle!"

Everything crashed back into place. Memories of the day before, reminders of what had happened. Michelle in his office with fast food. Michelle laughing in his car. Michelle's house. Her mother. The shouting. The word groomer. The humiliation. The way Michelle had been crying.

Because of him.

He unlocked the door.

Michelle stood in the hallway in sweatpants and a hoodie, a small suitcase beside her. Her eyes were red. Her face was blotchy from crying. Even in that condition, she was still beautiful.

Shit.

"Hi," Roy said, his voice rough with sleep.

She didn't answer. She stepped forward and threw her arms around him, burying her face in his shoulder. He froze for half a second, then wrapped his arms around her automatically.

"Hey," he murmured. "Hey. It's okay."

He brought her inside and locked the door behind them. The apartment suddenly felt much smaller with her standing there, shaking in his arms.

He pulled back just enough to look at her. "Michelle... what are you doing here?"

"It got worse after you left," she said quickly, words tumbling out. "She kept yelling. She said all these horrible things about you. About me. I tried to explain, but she wouldn't listen. She never listens. I should have gone with you. I should have."

Roy ran a hand over his face. Exhaustion and dread tangled in his chest. "Your mom's scared," he said gently. "She's trying to protect you. I get why she reacted the way she did. She loves you."

Michelle shook her head hard. "No. She doesn't understand. You're not any of those things that she said. You're my boyfriend. That's what I want. That's what matters."

Roy's eyes dropped to the suitcase.

"And so you...?" he said.

"I'm moving in with you," Michelle said, like it was the most natural thing in the world. "She doesn't know. She thinks I'm asleep in my room. I took an Uber. One of your neighbours was coming in and I slipped in behind him. Now we can be together. No more yelling. No more judgement."

The words landed heavy in Roy's chest.

This was wrong.

Her mother was right about one thing: he should not be here alone with her. He should not be standing in his apartment at one-thirty in the morning with a young woman who had just run away from home to be with him. Even though Michelle was an adult. Even though the wish had rewritten reality. Even though Michelle believed this relationship was as real as the sky, the clouds, the moon.

Every instinct told him this was a terrible idea.

And yet.

He knew the rules now. He knew how the wish worked. There was only one way out of Michelle's life now. It was the same as it had with the others. If Roy was going to get out of her life, he was going to have to put aside his notion of being a 'good guy' and become intimate with Michelle. He wasn't sure how far she'd go with him tonight, but her exit door from the relationship could only be opened with Roy climaxing. If he did nothing, she would stay. She would build her life around him. She would fight her mother. She would keep choosing him.

But if he followed through, took her to bed, did exactly what Michelle's mother feared he would do, the wish would do what it did, and Michelle would be free from him. Back in her own life. Back with her mother. Roy gone from her story.

It felt monstrous to even think it.

It felt more monstrous to let her stay.

He stood there, looking at her, seeing how young she looked under the bravado. How much trust she had placed in him. How completely she believed in this version of reality.

He made a decision.

Not a good one. Not a clean one. But one that, in his mind, might actually protect her in the end.

Roy **** a small, gentle smile onto his face. He softened his tone. Made it lighter. Playful, almost, the way he had learned to do when he needed to hide fear.

"Okay, then," he said quietly. "Welcome home."

Michelle's face lit up with immediate relief.

"Really?" she whispered.

"Really," Roy said.

He gestured down the hallway. "Can I show you to our room?"