Sawyer moved to sit on the edge of his bed, sliding off her shoes and then shifting them out of the way of anything, glancing around and tucking some hair back behind her ear. Despite not having been in there in awhile, it still felt like home. She had a feeling that wherever Ryan lived … wherever Ryan was, it would feel like home. Home wasn’t a place. Home was Ryan.
Ryan paused with his back to her, hesitated a moment, and finally pulled open the top drawer of his desk. “So how’s work been?” he asked, no longer comfortable with the amount of silence pressing in. He felt like there were a lot of unsaid things in that silence that he didn’t want to fester. As he waited for her answer, he picked up his keys and dropped them in the drawer, then picked up a small bottle from inside and opened it as quietly as he could manage.
(Source: rymarshall)
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