Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

He remembers his time on the dissection table with his body more so than his brain. A lot of his memories are foggy―and he figures that's just what happens when a person is put under so much physical and mental strain that they can't cope with being conscious. He tended to fade in and out a lot while he was there, not really focusing on anything. During the best times he felt almost like he was floating, watching remotely as his body was destroyed from beyond some thick fog. Other times he would focus on a single spot in his vision or on a repetitive sound, and hope that whatever little thing he pinned his concentration on would be able to phase everything else out. Sometimes it worked―but not always.

He relived those events a lot after he first got out of the lab, but the flashbacks were also easier to distract himself from. The mental side effects were easily buried under the many physical changes he had to get used to. Going from being constantly immobile and mummified to suddenly not meant that every sensation on his bare skin was now magnified. Even the slightest change in temperature could be too much, and it made focusing on anything very difficult at first. All those years of torture and recovery had taken a toll on his ability to adapt to certain textures and noises―something that he was still getting used to now. There are many events from the last decade that Tanaka can't recall even when he tries to, but that doesn't mean those memories aren't ingrained into his body. They are woven into his bones and muscles, stitched into his flesh, and recorded in every cell of his that has ever been damaged and resurrected as invisible black matter. He remembers with his body when he hears the blender running in the kitchen, teeth clenched and bracing for the impact of a drill against his temple. He remembers whenever he wakes with a blanket covering his head, struggling to breathe and paralyzed by the imaginary restraints pinning him down.

The flashbacks can catch him at any time, but they are patterns he can count on. The worst ones usually happen either early in the morning or late at night. That's when Tanaka is most afraid of being dragged back, as if―when he falls asleep and unguarded―he will wake up under lock and key again. Or wake up to find he had never been rescued at all. The others can't seem to tell when he is dissociating. They find it weird if he's been staring at the wall for half an hour without moving, but mostly they just let him be. With all the drugs Takahashi and Gen have used, they probably assume Tanaka is high when they see him spacing out and think nothing of it. Occasionally someone might try to get his attention and snap him out of it, but waving them off is easy enough to do. The panic attacks are harder to hide. He is better at seeing them coming than he used to be, so most of the time he can simply excuse himself and try to ride out his anxiety alone in his room without anyone being the wiser. But that is only when he's lucky.

When he feels it coming his time, Tanaka is in the main room of the base, watching TV with everyone else. Surprisingly, the warning chill rushes down his spine not during the news, but just after the commercials start. It's a car ad―a tame one at that―just footage of the car swerving along a mountain road, but the sound of it moving is enough to set him off. He recognizes it right away. He's tested cars before, and he can clearly remember the sensation of whiplash plunging him toward a concrete wall. He went through the windshield a couple of times too. Once he even got hung up on a windshield wiper that punctured his stomach. As the audio and chatter begin to sound far away, Tanaka becomes acutely aware of how cold the sweat on his forehead has become. He stands up, almost falling back down again once before he makes a beeline for the kitchen.

Good . Now he's far enough away from the couch that they shouldn't be able to see him. He roots through the fridge instead and starts fixing himself something to eat. Cooking helps his anxiety, keeps him busy. He's distracted enough to miss the series of approaching taps until they've already reached him. He only looks up when the beat stops, after one last loud crack against the floor gets attention.

He's surprised to see that out of everyone, Okuyama is the one who makes the effort to check on him. Then again, he's probably the only one who noticed. Out of the entire team, Okuyama is definitely the most observant when it comes to other people's reactions to things. Now that he's facing him like this, Tanaka can't help but feel like he's been placed under a microscope.

"You doing okay?" Okuyama's expression is neutral, although Tanaka isn't sure if that makes him feel better or worse.

"Just hungry," he says curtly, hoping it's enough to satisfy the man's curiosity so he can go.

It's not. Instead, Tanaka feels the other man close in on him, shrinking his bubble of personal space and taking his ability to look calm along with it, Okuyama gets closer until he is looking right over his shoulder, and he silently notes how Tanaka's shoulders hunch the closer he gets to him. Still, Tanaka attempts to act nonchalant while he makes his sandwich, nevermind the fact that he clearly looks like he wants to run. He picks up his pace a bit in the interest of leaving as soon as possible, but it only makes his panic more obvious. Tanaka is moving so fast that he manages to drop the knife he's holding, practically throwing it to the floor. When he dives to pick it up though, he bumps into Okuyama's cane.

"Stop," Okuyama says, holding the outstretched cane  in front of Tanaka, who can only stare at him. He tries again to move, but Okuyama only repeats himself.

He leans on his cane and drops into a squat before Tanaka can protest. He isn't sure what to do when they are eye to eye. All he knows is that breathing is becoming more difficult by the second and that he wishes the other demi-human would stop staring at him like that. He doesn't get the chance to reach for the knife again, because before he can, a hand wraps itself around Tanaka's wrist.

"Breathe," Okuyama says. The grip around Tanaka's forearm is surprisingly gentle. "Breathe," he says again.

He repeats the command over and over for the next several minutes. He starts taking deep breaths himself, inhaling through his nose and exhaling slowly through his mouth, giving Tanaka something to model. Eventually the pace of Tanaka's breathing slows down enough to match his. He keeps doing it until they are breathing in sync, until it feels natural.

"Better?" Okuyama asks. He picks up the knife and hands it to Tanaka.

Tanaka flexes his fingers as if to test them, noting the lack of tension. "Yeah, I think so."

Okuyama takes a moment to get to his feet before helping Tanaka up next. His hand remains loosely gripped around the other man's arm as he is looking him over.

"You know, you can say something when you feel yourself starting to panic," he says. "It's okay if you need a few minutes to calm down."

Huh. That was surprisingly...kind. Not that Okuyama has ever come off as particularly malicious, Tanaka notes silently, but the man clearly values his privacy, sometimes to the point that he can be a little standoffish. He doesn't  interact very much with anyone in the base unless he has to, so for him to make that kind of offer is surprisingly touching.

"Thanks," Tanaka answers quietly. "You really don't need to worry about me though. These things happen."

Okuyama quirks an eyebrow. "Just because they happen doesn't mean you should always deal with them by yourself. It's more work for you and will just make your share of the work more difficult to accomplish."

He plants his cane firmly on the ground before facing the doorway again.

"This isn't just to be nice. I'm offering for the sake of the team as well. The better everyone is able to handle their own issues, the easier it will be to work together without incident. Helping each other out is better for everyone in the end," he adds as he claps a firm but gentle hand on Tanaka's shoulder. "Just keep that in mind for next time, alright?"

Tanaka is quiet for a few seconds, then he nods. "Alright."

Okuyama returns a nod in the affirmative before he exits the kitchen. Tanaka remains planted where he stands for a few minutes before he returns his attention to the sandwich he was making. He doesn't fail to notice how much steadier his hands are. He drops the knife in the sink before grabbing his plate off the table, taking another deep breath before he rejoins the others.

Chapter Text

Gen and Takahashi are kind of a strange pair—that goes without saying. They seemed average enough at that first meeting, but they took on the role of capturing dissenters with surprising ease. The enthusiasm they had for their missions was matched only by Sato's. And despite how he often thinks of them as airheaded junkies, even Tanaka can admit that they are good at their jobs. They're also practically joined at the hip and never fail to surprise him with just how, for lack of a better term, "cuddly" the two of them are. Not just with each other either—as it turns out, they are like that with everyone in the group. For crying out loud, he once saw them stop just shy of tackling Sato after watching the old man mow down a few dozen policemen with just a machete. Their behavior toward Sato is something else altogether. Tanaka admires the man himself—he would be lying if he said he didn't feel some sense of devotion toward him—but the way Gen and Takahashi act around him borders on hero worship. Sato is not a warm and fuzzy person by any stretch, but the way he's reacted to Gen and Takahashi gushing over his kills in the past borders on bashful . It's the closest Tanaka has ever come to seeing genuine emotion from the old man. And although he hates to admit it, that does make him a little bit jealous.

That seed of petty jealousy is just one of many reasons why he tends to avoid hanging around Takahashi or Gen unless he has to. They are good at what they do, he can at least begrudgingly admit that, But they also don't take their work seriously at all. They are both unpredictable, not to mention that between the two of them, they probably have the combined attention span of a squirrel. Despite or maybe because of their newfound strength in numbers, Tanaka continues to take his role as Sato's right hand man very seriously, As a result he is also possessive of the time he gets to spend with him one on one. He wasn't in the group looking to make friends, but at least with Okuyama,Tanaka can make casual conversation. Or they can just sit together in silence without it being weird. Taking all that into account only makes Tanaka all the more confused however, because none of it explains how in the hell he has wound up sandwiched between Takahashi and Gen on the couch.

It just kind of happens before he even realizes. He had been watching the news when the pair came in. He started to get up, but they insisted he didn't need to, and the way he saw it, it wasn't important enough to argue over. They mostly just talked to each other anyway, only occasionally reaching over him to grab the remote or jab at one another. It was pretty late by the time Tanaka felt himself getting tired, just barely starting to doze off when he startles awake again and realizes that he is now trapped between the other two, who are sound asleep. Takahashi leans against him from the right, propped up by his arm on Tanaka's side. Gen is curled up against Tanaka’s left side, his head pressed into his shoulder and his arms crossed in front of him. Naturally, Tanka’s first reaction is to be weirded out, but. trying to get out of the tangle only entraps him further before he is forced to give up. With the more time that passes, however, he does begrudgingly begin to admit that it feels...almost nice. How long has it been since he sat like this anyway, dozing off between two equally tired people? That realization only makes him feel more awkward though. He is so wrapped up in his own thoughts that he doesn't even notice Gen looking at him until he speaks.

"You alright?" the shorter man says, giving him a light nudge with his elbow. When the hell did he wake up?

"Yeah, I'm fine," his reply is flat. "When did you get up?"

"When your knee hit me in the stomach."

"Oh." Tanaka reddens. "Sorry about that."

"It's cool." Gen gives him a smile, tucking his head against Tanaka's shoulder again before swinging one of his legs over the other demi-human's. He feels him bristle as he unintentionally nuzzles against his shoulder, causing him to pull away by a few more inches. "Still good?"

"Yeah, only..." Tanaka trails off. "It just felt kinda weird."

"Ah, my bad," Gen says. He rolls his head to the side for a second, a thoughtful look forming on his face. "Hey, I've been wondering something."

"What?"

"Before, y'know, everything that happened with Sato and before you knew you were a demi-human, did you have a girlfriend?"

Tanaka lets his gaze wander to the sidelines. Why the hell is he asking about this now? "No, not when I got captured."

"Boyfriend?"

“No. Why are you so curious all of a sudden?"

Gen only shrugs. "You don't seem like you're used to being up close and personal with people."

"Well, ten years is a long time." He turns toward the TV as much as he is able to move, away from his nosy teammate. "I haven't been around other people in any normal capacity for a while, so yeah, maybe I don't really know what to do sometimes."

"I mean, that's okay though." Gen pats him on the shoulder in an attempt to be reassuring, but he feels Tanaka stiffen anyway.

"It really isn't." Honestly, from the time Sato freed him up until now, Tanaka hasn't given much thought to the shift in his social skills. Although now that he is living in close quarters with the others, he can't seem to avoid the issue anymore. He finds himself missing cues and misinterpreting things often. It's gotten to the point that he’s started retreating to his room for the majority of his spare time. Tonight is one of the rare times when he comes out to watch the news.

"Your social skills suck. So what?" Gen shrugs. "We can work on that."

"What do you mean ‘we’?"

"Well who else are you gonna talk to about this stuff?"

Gen does have a point. It's not like he has anyone else beyond them to talk to. The remark makes him appear noticeably more depressed, unbeknownst to him, and Gen almost regrets having said anything in the first place. But he at least tries to salvage the conversation. 

"Come on, we're supposed to be helping each other aren't we?" he says cheerfully. "You can rely on us."

"I guess." Tanaka still looks somber. Gen frowns at him, and it takes a moment for the other man to notice. "What?"

"When was the last time somebody hugged you?"

"This conversation is over." Tanaka starts to get up—Takahashi's nap be damned—but a chorus of ‘no’s and Gen's hand on his wrist stop him.

"I'm being serious! When was the last time you were that close to somebody else?"

He does not give an answer, but he does think of one. As far as his life before being captured goes, the last person to hug him had been his dad. After he realized he was a demi-human, they spent several days hiding and driving to whichever places seemed the least likely for him to be captured in. He was so afraid back then, but mostly confused—after all, nobody knew what exactly happened to demi-humans who were found out by the government. At some point during one of his many panic sessions in the space of those few days, his dad had put his own skinny arms around him and told him that everything would be okay. Neither of them believed it, but the gesture still meant something. It still helped. Barring that though, the last person to hold Tanaka in any comforting manner had been...

"Sato," he mumbles. 

Gen's eyes flicker to the door where the old man was probably either sleeping or gaming behind it. "Seriously?"

"When he freed me, I couldn't walk right." He could remember the feeling well. The muscles in his legs had atrophied, so he fell flat on his face the first time he tried to stand up again, and kept falling over even after he reset. Sato was patient though. "He held onto me and helped me get used to it again. I got to walk of that lab on my own two feet because of him."

It felt like a dream, so much so that at the time, he feared he was imagining it. But no, he was actually free. He had actually left that awful place behind, held together by a stranger who would change his life completely. When he looks up again, Gen’s face is a mixture of surprise and what looks an awful lot like pity, but Tanaka supposes he should have figured as much. This is part of why he doesn't mention his captivity to the others when he can help it. He's free now—free to choose his own path, to take revenge, to right the wrongs done to him and others like him. He doesn't need anyone else's sympathy That's what he tells himself anyway.

The next thing Tanaka knows though, Gen's arms are wrapped firmly around his midsection. The motion forces his shoulders to dip down slightly, bringing him chest to chest with the other man. He isn't sure if he really wants to protest—his thoughts are racing too much—but even if he does, Gen doesn't give him the chance. 

"I'd want to fucking kill someone if something like that happened to Takahashi," he says. "And it shouldn't have happened to you either."

Now that was a reaction he didn't expect. There isn't anybody left from Tanaka's old life to feel angry on his behalf, so the words take him aback. It shouldn't be a surprise to hear, though, should it? What reasonable person wouldn't be angry to find somebody they care about placed in such a horrible position? Plenty of people, Tanaka's inner voice scoffs. The people who cut into him on a daily basis probably had families, friends, and perfectly normal lives outside of their jobs, but that never stopped them from doing what they did to him. As long as they're not the ones suffering, normal people are complacent when they can afford to be, and that makes them complicit. It looks like Gen is thinking the same thing.

"We're going to kill these fuckers, alright?" he mutters against Tanaka's shoulder. "Everyone who kept you in that lab? We're gonna kill 'em all and have fun doing it."

Tanaka can't muster a reply. Gen lifts his head to look up at him expectantly, unintentionally setting off another jolt of nervousness. "Right?" he demands again.

"R-Right," Tanaka repeats quickly.

Gen is staring at him so intensely that it's almost comical until it blooms into something more impish, stretching into a toothy smirk. He replies with a single nod, without ever letting go of Tanaka. Tanaka really isn't sure what to do at this point—so he ends up doing nothing. He lets Gen hold him while he remains frozen in place. The shorter man doesn't appear to care, apparently content to stay wrapped around him awhile longer. A few minutes pass before Tanaka begins to wonder if his limbs haven't fallen asleep, but when he tries to jostle him, the only reply he receives is a muffled snore. He can't help shaking his head. Of course.

Realizing that he is already trapped—again—and too tired to fight back, Tanaka resigns himself to his fate, sagging into the back of the couch, flanked on either side by his sleeping teammates. The drawl of the TV becomes soft and scrambled as he feels himself getting drowsy. He doesn't even try to get up, ultimately deciding that staying put is a better option than attempting to pluck Takahashi and Gen's limbs off of him. And in the end, what's the harm in staying? he wonders. It's the last thought he has before he finally drifts to sleep.

Chapter Text

Sleep rarely comes easily, but Tanaka is still surprised when he jolts awake between gasps this time. It makes him angry more than anything, because this hadn't actually happened for a few days. He was doing well enough to make himself optimistic―admittedly against his better judgement―but now he is back to zero. Zero nights without waking up in a panic thanks to some half-formed memory replaying in his subconscious. This used to happen a lot more when it was just him and Sato in the beginning, where he would wake from a nightmare with the old man at his side, attempting to soothe him back to sleep in his own blunt way. Sato's intervention have gone from rare to nonexistent in the time since, though, leaving Tanaka completely on his own. He doesn't like it, but he refuses to seek Sato's help. The minor comfort of his presence would pale in comparison to the mortification of asking him to stay by his bed like a frightened child―and that's not even counting how annoyed Sato would be with him. Over the last few weeks Tanaka had been training himself with predictable patterns and routines to minimize his night terrors. He doesn't drink coffee at night when he can help it. He never watches the news right before going to bed. He even tries to space his rest periods so that he only ever sleeps for five or six hours at a time―just long enough to rest but not long enough that his dreams are all that vivid. It isn't foolproof, but it worked well enough for him the last few times. Having a system is calming in and of itself too. Having any tool in his arsenal is a comfort, mental or otherwise.

Maybe that is why this particular failure hits him so hard. Tanaka's ears are still ringing when he wakes up. He half expects to find brain matter and bone splinters on his hands when he rakes them through his hair, but his relief at not being strapped to an operating table is quickly drowned out by the sting of realizing that his streak is broken. Maybe that's why he lets a second sob escape his throat after he is unable to stop the first one. There is no saving his dignity, so he figures he might as well get some sort of relief out of it. He tried so hard to be stoic during his first days at the lab, remaining stone-faced despite the pain he was being put through. He stopped trying to hold back his reactions once he realized that that the people hurting him wouldn't give a shit no matter what he did. He was a lab animal, not a prisoner of war, and what became of his mental state meant nothing to them one way or another. On the flip side of that, even when Tanaka DID let himself cry and scream at the pain he was in, he learned that neither reaction garnered any sympathy. There was no point in either forcing tears to come out or holding them back. None of it made a difference, and that outlook didn't change after he joined Sato. Even though Sato no longer made an effort to comfort him, he knows what Tanaka's symptoms are and has been content to just let him be. That's how―with three more teammates to get used to―Tanaka sometimes forgets that Sato is not the only one he risks waking with his night terrors. There haven't been any incidents yet; at most he may have garnered some concerned or irritated looks at breakfast, but otherwise nobody has been annoyed enough to confront him about his outbursts.

There's a first time for everything though, isn't there?

The soft raps at his door actually wake Tanaka before his own fidgeting does. He managed to nod off again unusually quick all things considered―probably just tired himself out with his first round of nightmares, but it only makes waking up again so soon more jarring. Consciousness descends on him quickly, leaving only the foggiest recollection of a bad memory, blunted by his sudden return to wakefulness. When he actually gets close enough to the door to open it, he finds himself face-to-face with Okuyama, who looks mildly concerned but mostly tired.

"Are you okay?" he asks without waiting for any acknowledgement.

"Eh? Yeah," Tanaka says before the question completely registers.

"You were shouting."

"Oh," is all he can say. He coughs into his fist. "Sorry." He reaches for the doorknob. "It won't happen again."

He tries to close the door again, but he doesn't get far before Okuyama's hand is suddenly jammed between it and the doorframe.

"Stop," he says calmly. "You're clearly not okay. Maybe it would help to talk to someone else before you try tackling it on your own again."

'He sounds like a guidance counselor,' Tanaka thinks. it would be funny if he wasn't already so frustrated.

He takes a step back, giving Okuyama enough space to gently push the door away. He walks just far enough into Tanaka's room so that he's in no danger of being shut out again. Tanaka doesn't argue, only lets out a sigh as he sits down on the bed, head in his hands. The mattress creaks softly at the weight of another body joining him. Okuyama studies his face patiently, resting his chin atop the handle of his cane, already settled in for however long this will end up taking. As it turns out, it doesn't take long at all.

"I was in my old house," Tanaka begins. "We lived out in the country―my parents and I did―and the neighborhood was pretty small. My parents were gone and I was alone. I checked all the doors and windows, thinking some animal outside would get in. Everything was locked. I went over to the couch, but I didn't fall asleep. I blinked, and then suddenly I couldn't move. Something was pinning me down, but it wasn't an animal."

He swallows. Okuyama gives him a slight nod as encouragement to continue.

"My IBM was sitting on my chest screaming at me. It started to dissolve after a while, but it wasn't normal. The bandages came off and stuck to me instead. It was like a strait-jacket. They covered my arms and legs. My face was covered too, but not like at the lab, because everything was covered here. My nose was plugged up so I couldn't even breathe. My ears were covered too, but I could hear machines all around me, like power tools. And they just kept coming closer until..."

Okuyama nudges him slightly. "Until?"

Tanaka sighs. He covers his face with his hands, both glistening with sweat. "I woke up. That was it."

"Sounds upsetting."

He only shrugs. Remembering the pain is bad, but the more graphic parts of his dreams aren't nearly as terrifying as the captivity. His worst fear is that he will wake up to find himself being dragged back to that lab, bound and just as helpless as he was before he escaped. Like he never even left.

Okuyama shifts uncomfortably in place. "Are they like that a lot?"

Tanaka nods. "Sometimes."

Okuyama looks to the ceiling, absentmindedly chewing at his lower lip. After a minute or two, something seems to click. "We have security cameras up around this building."

"Okay?" Tanaka's brow furrows.

He does his best to clarify. "It means that we have eyes on every entrance and exit, plus the outside of the building." He leans over his cane as he pushes himself off the bed. "Anyone who could come after you would show up on CCTV. If you think it would help, we can take a look at the security footage. Just to be sure."

He doesn't really need to. Consciously, he knows that he is probably safe here. He knows how unlikely it is that he will wake to Kei Nagai storming the hideout at three in the morning with no pretense. But knowing that has done nothing to temper his anxiety. Tanaka agrees.

The other ajin offers a hand to help him up, but Tanaka jams his hands in his pockets instead as he unsteadily gets to his feet. He follows close behind the other, nearly bumping into his back more than once when Okuyama stops short. Their hideout this time is in a gutted hotel, which meant they real beds and a semi-functional kitchen for once, much to the delight of Gen and Takahashi. There are four floors altogether, but only the first two see any regular use. They ripped out what was left of the old security cameras when they moved in. Tanaka did not understand much of the technical jargon in Okuyama's explanation, but from what he could understand, there were motion sensors at the doors that recorded every time someone entered or exited the property. Their security feed was completely private, plus footage automatically deleted every twenty-four hours. With that in mind, they should be able to view the recordings from as far back as yesterday afternoon. Okuyama opens up the feed on his computer, clicking through each individual channel to show him what was going on in every corner of the building throughout the day. Their rooms don't have cameras, but the hallways do, so anyone trying to get into the building shows up in the feed.

"Is that Takahashi going into my room?" Tanaka squints at the footage onscreen from over the other man's shoulder.

"Yeah, he's going to show up again in a few seconds with your jacket. He was complaining about the smell earlier."

"HE was complaining?" He shook his head. "I was wondering where that was."

"That was yesterday evening, so it's probably still in the laundry room."

"Okay, so aside from him stealing my clothes, nobody has been here who isn't supposed to be."

"Yep. Haven't seen so much as a raccoon around the perimeter either," Okuyama says.

It is slightly comforting, but it's too overshadowed by how stupid he feels about everything to do much good. As much as Tanaka appreciates the attempt to comfort him, he can't help feeling like he's at an intervention. Everybody tends to tread lightly around him as though he could break at any moment, and he's gotten sick of it. Normally he would be more upset, more assertive about his ability to deal with things himself, but right now he's too tired to care. A yawn escapes him as he thanks Okuyama while preparing to flee. Although he is not particularly eager to try sleeping again.

Tanaka's reluctance shows more clearly than he thinks, and that makes the next thing he hears throw him for a loop all the more.

"You can sleep here if want."

He swivels his head around very slowly as if he is giving Okuyama a chance to correct himself. But he doesn't, even when Tanaka is gawking at him, mouth agape and waiting for an explanation. "Huh?"

"You could sleep here instead," he repeats. "I have some work to finish, so I won't need the bed for a couple more hours. This way, you can check your surroundings whenever you want, and you won't be as vulnerable as you would sleeping by yourself.

The silence swells around them, and Tanaka still isn't convinced he's not imagining this. "Really?"

Okuyama nods. "It might help or it might not, but whether or not it's worth trying is up to you."

Tanaka's mind is still jumbled, but he is too tired and desperate by now to feel embarrassed anymore. It has all been drained out of him by this point.

"That...might be good actually," he finally says after a long pause.

Okuyama wastes little time in getting up and shaking out the thin blanket. It is not much, but it's far nicer than the shitty futons and overturned offices they have stayed in before. An actual bed with a mattress is generally less triggering than sleeping on the floor anyway. Tanaka damn near jumps when he feels the bedding shift underneath him and he immediately scrambles away. Okuyama finishes remaking the bed and steps away to give Tanaka some room, but he doesn't budge. Okuyama shoots him an expectant look, but it does not even earn a glance in return. He taps his fingers gently against Tanaka's forearm.

"It's okay. Honest." He makes his voice a note gentler. "I wouldn't offer otherwise."

Tanaka sighs through his nose. "If you say so." That seems to dissolve the last of his hesitation as he finally leans a knee against the mattress. Okuyama turns his attention to his computers at that point―and thank goodness for it because having the other man awkwardly monitor his progress would easily keep Tanaka from sleeping for the rest of the week. The bed creaks under his weight, seemingly unused to having a person tossing and turning in it, and he makes a mental note to keep track of how often he sees Okuyama awake before the sun is even up. He wraps the blanket around himself as much as possible, leaving his torso slightly exposed due to how short it is. He feels a chill come on as he settles in, surprising him enough to elicit a small chirp of discomfort. It gets Okuyama's attention, but he does not look nearly as surprised.

"Oh yeah, this room is closer to the outer wall of the building than the others, so the ventilation isn't as good." He adds in a mumble, "Probably should have mentioned that."

"S'okay."

Okuyama shuffles away without another word. Tanaka tries to cover himself as much as possible while he dozes off. Normally he wouldn't be so bothered by the cold―he's fallen asleep in far worse places. Maybe it's because he is not in his own bed. He didn't have the energy to protest when Okuyama suggested he stay over, but he feels like he's intruding anyway―not just now but in general. He knows he has woken the others with his night terrors. None of it mattered when it was just him and Sato. Sato helped him through it, and if it got on his nerves, he never showed it.  The rest of his teammates get along with Sato different than how he does, and the more time he spends with the group, the more certain he feels that he is losing his place among them.

Tanaka is so lost in thought that he doesn't notice the door creak open until there are footsteps shuffling beside the bed. He tenses at the sound, but he doesn't get another chance to react before a thick blanket lands on top of him. It flutters for a second beforehand―falling lightly over him rather than pinning him down―plus it is larger and more solid than the blanket he is already wrapped in. Okuyama does not seem to notice the man's eye crack slightly open, or at least he chooses to ignore it while he smooths the blanket down over the other's sides. He turns around and takes his seat at the cluster of computers without saying anything more. Tanaka shifts underneath the blanket, feeling the tension in his limbs seep out under the heat. He waits, listening for anything out of the ordinary, but no attack or action follows. Nothing is going to happen to him here. He repeats the sentiment to himself over and over until he can no longer string the words together in his mind. He finally falls asleep a few minutes later, sedated by the warmth of blankets and the soft clicks of the keyboard.