Work Text:
Homura awoke with a jerk.
Eyes wide, muscles tensed, hands ice-cold and trembling. Her lungs heaved, forcing out frantic breaths, as if wanting to escape her body. She couldn’t remember a dream, yet her heart was hammering in her chest, pumping her veins full of adrenaline. She was familiar with this -- with waking up in a frenzy, fight-or-flight activated. All she could do was roll over and wait it out until the sun rose; there usually wasn’t much sleep left to salvage. Homura might say it was routine, except…
“Akemi-san?” whispered a familiar voice.
...She had fallen asleep at Mami’s house. She sighed, closing her eyes, berating herself mentally, wondering what she was thinking when she accepted her friend’s offer to ‘just come over and watch a movie or two’. Sleeping over with friends is never a good idea, she’d decided, especially when it was with Mami in particular, because Homura’s sleeping patterns were objectively worrisome, and Mami was always the type to worry.
“Akemi-san? Are you all right?” she prodded again, shuffling herself closer to Homura.
Homura glanced tiredly towards her friend, whose goldenrod hair was still beautiful and curly, even half-awake. “Yes,” she finally replied, regaining control of her voice.
“Are you sure?” Mami asked, brows knit in concern.
“Yes,” Homura said again, this time turning her head away. A few strands of her dark hair drew over her face.
It was quiet for a few moments. Only the subtle ticks of Mami’s living room clock filled the space. They’d fallen asleep together on the couch halfway through their second movie. It wasn’t a very large space, but Homura had still managed to worm her way out of the blanket they were sharing.
Mami ran her hand across the sheet in front of her, eventually grabbing hold of its edge. She inched it towards Homura’s legs. “Are you cold?” she asked sweetly.
“I’m not cold,” Homura lied.
“Do you want the blanket? And can I touch you?”
Homura looked at Mami again. How did she know to be so considerate? Why did she care? Homura could think about that later -- for now, she knew that she actually was cold, and she did want to be touched, so she nodded her head.
Mami inched closer again until she was up against Homura. She wrapped the blanket around Homura’s and her own shoulders, sitting up straight by her side. She slowly reached a hand behind Homura, placing her palm on her back and sliding it gently and steadily towards the side of Homura’s arm.
Homura gave in and leaned her head against Mami’s shoulder. It seemed like that relaxed the other girl a little, rather than burdening her like Homura had imagined. In kind, Mami leaned her cheek against the top of Homura’s head. Homura nuzzled closer instinctively, pressing the bridge of her nose against the soft side of Mami’s neck. Mami was warm -- much, much warmer than Homura. She smelled like freshly baked muffins and clean linen. Homura heard Mami’s heartbeat in her neck, and something about that was comforting to her.
As Mami did sometimes, she reached her hand up Homura’s back until she reached a lock of Homura’s long hair, and started combing her fingers through it. She caught a few tangles, and Homura’s head was brought back by the force of Mami’s fingers, though gentle.
“Sorry,” Mami had whispered then, worried the force of her hand hurt her friend’s scalp. Homura didn’t really care either way. She brought her head back to where it was each time, just underneath Mami’s chin.
Her eyes were closed; she tried imagining better scenarios underneath them, but nothing she imagined stuck, it only ever was consumed by the suffocating darkness under her eyelids, or undone by her half-conscious mind.
“What happened?” Mami asked carefully.
Homura opened her eyes. She didn’t respond immediately.
“You don’t have to say,” she added.
“...I woke up afraid for no reason,” Homura said. “It happens sometimes. That’s why I usually say no when you ask me to stay over.”
“Oh,” Mami said under her breath, pausing her combing for a second before continuing again.
“I don’t want you to take such a heavy burden upon yourself, Tomoe-san,” Homura rasped sleepily. “You’re very kind, but I’m probably beyond your help.”
“That’s not true,” Mami quickly replied, voice soft, yet confident. “You’re never beyond anyone’s help. Who told you that?”
“No one in particular,” Homura said.
“I think you’ll be okay.” Mami paused her petting for a moment to rid her fingers of the stray strands she’d tugged out, and she wondered briefly why Homura’s hair was so loose. “You aren’t unworthy of love, you know.”
Homura didn’t respond. Her arms and legs felt weighted to her friend’s couch, and the blanket clung to her shoulders as if it yearned for her to suffocate in its fleece. She wasn’t shaking anymore.
“In fact,” Mami continued, “I think you deserve to be happy, Akemi-san. I’m sorry your body won’t allow it yet.”
Homura felt like crying, but her tears couldn’t find their way. Her face couldn’t express how she really felt anymore, and that was another thing she hated about herself, but she didn’t have the energy to think about it. She reached a heavy hand towards Mami’s free hand and hesitantly slipped her fingers through the gaps in Mami’s own, a silent gesture of appreciation. “Thank you,” she murmured, and then she felt Mami’s cheek squish against the top of her head. She must’ve been smiling.
“Thank you, too.” Mami squeezed Homura’s hand in hers.
Homura closed her eyes again, and everything just slipped away, calm and secure in Mami’s arms.