[She wakes up the morning after with her head on something not a pillow, light filtering in at the wrong angle. Tension is her first response, holding still with eyes closed until memory catches up to her sleep-fogged brain. She didn't have nearly enough to drink the night before to steal her awareness of what had happened; she'd been nearly sober by the time she and Gabe fell into bed together.
Opening eyes reveals that her unusual pillow is his shoulder, and her sigh moves over the skin of his chest before she freezes again. Close to her face, visible in the morning light and now that she's focusing, are scars on his skin. Not the simple scars of general living, but long cuts of a knife, gashes healed over, bullet wounds. Seeing the marks makes her realize that her scars are equally on display, and there are too many questions there. It makes her heart and stomach fight for space behind her ribs, and ends with the imperative need to flee.
She doesn't expect to get out of the house without him waking, but she does. Though where her underpants are is anyone's guess. In her racing-heart reactions, she leaves them behind along with a scrawled note about needing to leave (but after a moment, she adds to call her). She can't get home to the townhouse fast enough, finding it empty when she gets there.][Max M]
[Handwriting still a little shaky:]
Sneaking out in the morning before someone wakes up: valid reaction or social faux pas?[Gabe R.]
[Much later, afternoon/evening, on Max's
recommendation, she calls. It goes to voicemail.]
[Pause.] It's Laura. I'm just... checking in. Okay. Hope you're having a good day. ...Bye.