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Although Lalo knew he and Howard didn’t have bodies anymore, or rather that the bodies they did have were buried deep under the meth lab where they now spent their days, it was striking how often it really felt like they were still alive. Still in their skin. They could still feel, after all. Like, when Howard started twitching and breathing hard as he lay next to Lalo on the concrete one night, Lalo really felt the fear coursing through the man’s veins. If he reached up to touch Howard’s chest, he thought he’d be able to feel pounding in the man’s heart.
“Everything okay, Howie?” he asked, his hand stopping just short of the dead lawyer’s chest.
He didn’t remember when the two of them started lying next to each other every night, their positioning not unlike that of the rotting corpses buried below them. Nor did Lalo know why they did it; they just did.
“God, it’s this place,” Howard said, his voice coming out haggard. “I get so claustrophobic in here, like the walls are going to come crashing in on me. And I swear I never used to be claustrophobic when I was, you know, alive. But I also used to be able to leave a place anytime I wanted. Get in my car, drive, go on a walk, do something. Do anything.”
Nestled against Howard’s back, Lalo frowned. He had done this to Howard, something the lawyer hadn’t remembered upon “waking up” here. If Howard knew, Lalo wondered if he would hate him. Probably. The man certainly resented Mr. and Mrs. Goodman, who he thought had killed him, enough.
“And this not sleeping thing,” Howard went on, his head in his hands, “God, it’s miserable. I don’t understand how you’re always so chipper.”
“Well,” Lalo said, “I never slept much when I was alive. I guess not doing it at all anymore isn’t that much different for me.”
Howard turned around at that, looking at Lalo with a curious glint in his eye. “Insomnia?”
Lalo shrugged. “It’s just the way I was wired.”
“How did you cope with it?” Howard asked. “I mean, I had my share of sleeping troubles after me and Cheryl started having our issues. I took about every sleep aid in the book to counteract it.”
“I don’t know,” Lalo said. “I didn’t mind it. It gave me time to think, and plan.”
“It’s awful,” Howard said, “not to shut your brain off for a little bit.”
“Well,” Lalo said, “I could still do that sometimes. I’d sit outside of my house down in Mexico, look up at the stars. That place was my paradise before—” he thought of Nacho, and it pained him “—well, never mind.”
Howard nodded, his lips pursed. Lalo could tell he was curious, but he could also tell the lawyer knew there were some stories he was better off not knowing.
“Tell me,” Lalo said, holding Howard close and pointing up at the ceiling, “what do you think the stars look like tonight?”
“Big and bright if the skies are clear,” Howard said, his face growing into a nostalgic smile. “I bet the moon’s almost full by now too.”
“Mm-hm,” Lalo said, nudging Howard with his elbow. “Pretend we’re there, then. We might as well be.”
Next to him, he felt Howard relax more, really felt him. “You’re right.”
“I am?”
“Yeah,” Howard said, staring up at the ceiling. “The stars are out there somewhere.”