It hadn't taken long, and instead of fiddling with the supply drawer, Doug had taken a page of them and made his way back, sure to step quietly and, entering his small apartment again, closed his eyes and said, just loudly. "I'm back." Carefully walking with his eyes closed and a stupid grin on his face, Doug sat on the bed, which was very still. [These], he gestured. He reached his hand out to her, but she wasn't there.
Doug opened his eyes, and his expression faded to one of confusion. Looking around the apartment, he realized her costume was gone and...
His hand touched the edge of the bed, and he looked down, setting the contraception aside. The sheets were folded in such a way that... his fingers touched them slightly, careful not to rearrange the swirls and folds.
Panic. Conflicted movements. Stay? Go? Anger, cursing, surprise, longing and fear. Doug stopped moving his hands, and stepped over to the window. Was she already gone? Was she hiding?
[It's okay], he gestured out the window. [I understand.] The disappointment was mixed with anger and concern for her, and he wondered if she'd be okay out there. He didn't care for the anger, didn't like what it made him feel like, so he pushed it away.
Crawling into bed, Doug framed himself around where she'd been, a slight depression still in the pillow where her head had been. He could still smell her, still imagine her softness and warmth, her taut, muscular yet thin frame. The feel of her face and the faintest ghost of a shape in his mind's eye.
Would she be gone for weeks again? Or was this worse... had this scared her so much she'd never come back?
His hand pressed into the pillow and he dug his face in, tears streaming from his eyes. Missing her, gone again without a goodbye... waiting and wondering. It was torture.
Eventually, he drifted off to sleep, trying to block out the sirens and the horns outside. Doug tried to hold onto his image of her, the memory of her touch and taste... but even in his dreams she hid.