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Gordon was not a stranger to insomnia. Even before all the bullshit that had been thrown at him in Black Mesa, he’d had his fair share of sleepless nights. Anxiety and ADHD would do that to you. Of course, that had gotten significantly worse after he lived through his worst nightmares. It was easier to deal with these days, though. Time had passed since the Resonance Cascade, and he had spent a long time putting his life back together. Learning coping mechanisms, getting a much lower stress job as a physics professor, reconciling with Benrey, the whole nine yards. The night terrors and insomnia came far less frequently than they had when he was fresh out of the birthday bash at the end of the world. That didn’t mean they stopped coming all together, though.
It was one in the morning, if the glowing numbers on his alarm clock were to be trusted, and he had yet to fall asleep. His mind was racing, and not even in the typical anxiety way; he just couldn’t get it to shut up. It didn’t help that he had a class to teach in the morning. He was begging his brain to let him rest, but instead it decided to fixate on anything thought that passed by, like midterms coming up or the TV shows he loved as a child or all the noise coming from Benrey’s room.
Gordon ran his hands down his face and groaned. Yeah, Benrey deciding to compose music in the middle of the night definitely wasn’t helping his sleep. What the hell was that guy even doing? Fuck it, Gordon decided. He wasn’t getting any sleep anyway. Might as well ask Benrey about their music.
He shuffled down the hall, mumbling curses when he stubbed his toes on the furniture barely visible in the dim moonlight. He paused outside Benrey’s room and listened a moment. Some of the sounds were the tell-tale tones of Sweet Voice, sometimes low and resonant, sometimes sweeping to high flute-like notes. Behind the Sweet Voice beeps were the sound of a piano, played with inexperienced hands but still harmonizing surprisingly well. Occasionally, one of the piano notes would come out sour, a key clearly being missed, and the Sweet Voice would be cut off with a non-melodic noise of annoyance before being picked up again.
Gordon had planned to knock on Benrey’s door, but he couldn’t help but stand there a while longer. The song Benrey was putting together was… really pretty, actually. He didn’t know a damn thing about music, but something about Benrey’s song struck a chord inside his chest.
He suddenly realized how weird it was that he was just standing there outside their door, and he shuffled awkwardly before knocking. The music immediately came to a halt, and the silence that fell over the apartment was momentarily deafening. Then there was the sound of Benrey getting up, and then the door opened a few inches, allowing Benrey to peer out.
“Whuh?” They said, squinting up at him. “Thought you went to bed, man.”
“Couldn’t sleep.” Gordon glanced over the top of Benrey’s head and saw a few Sweet Voice orbs still illuminating their otherwise dark room. The bubbles painted the room in a warm orange and pink glow, like an extremely localized sunset. “What’re you doing?”
“Nothing,” Benrey said immediately, then thought better of it. “Just making music. Dumb, uh, dumb idiot doesn’t even know music? Only listens to Linking Perk? Pork Links? Not very kosher of you, dude.”
“Shut up,” Gordon said, despite laughing. “Can I listen?”
Benrey visibly hesitated, almost to the point that Gordon considered retracting his request and shuffling back to bed, but they eventually nodded and stepped away from the door so Gordon could follow them into their room.
Gordon had been in Benrey’s room a few times before, usually to grab something they’d forgotten and couldn’t get themself or something, but usually he didn’t intrude. It was their space, and everybody needed their own space. Benrey inviting him into their room in the middle of the night felt like an expression of trust that still baffled Gordon every time he thought about it too much; how had they come this far? Benrey sat down on the small piano bench in front of the keyboard Gordon had bought them when he realized they needed some kind of constructive hobby, and after a beat of consideration, Gordon settled down at the other end of the bench.
“Don’t be a dick, okay?” Benrey warned him. “This is a once in a lifetime concert. I don’t perform for just anybody.”
“Alright, alright, I get it.” Gordon put his hands up in surrender. “I’ll keep my comments to a minimum.”
Benrey huffed but apparently deemed that response acceptable. They cleared their throat, put their hands on the keys, and began singing. Gordon was immediately entranced. It started as a low orange note, sustained with a major chord on the piano. Slowly, it was accented with notes of pink and shimmering blue. It sped up, becoming playful, then took on a treacherous minor key peppered with discordant notes, before resolving into a major key that exuded warmth and comfort. All throughout the performance, Gordon was transfixed by the Sweet Voice filling the room, enshrouding him and Benrey in light. The more he watched and listened, the more he thought he might recognize the Sweet Voice colors. There, the orange tone Benrey occasionally sang directly into Gordon’s face by way of greeting, followed by an orange-blue gradient Benrey sang when they were excited to go on an outing with Gordon. The playful pink Gordon learned to associate with Benrey’s laughter, the soft yellow they used when Gordon was too stressed to sleep. The bruised purple color Gordon remembered from bad nights, thankfully distant memories now, and then the gentle lavender of the comfortable mornings that replaced them. Then laced throughout it all, the pink to blue gradient that always embarrassed Benrey and reminded Gordon of the bi flag, hidden under other layers of music as if Gordon wouldn’t notice.
Gordon wasn’t sure how long the song went on, but eventually, it faded into silence as the last few bubbles of light escaped Benrey’s mouth and their fingers stilled on the keys. Gordon didn’t dare say a word, awestruck into silence. Benrey, however, fidgeted and felt the need to speak. “It’s not done,” They said, as if defensive. “It’s still… I gotta make it perfect, you know?”
“I think it’s perfect,” Gordon said, and he meant it. Benrey immediately looked embarrassed and turned their head away to sing that pink to blue string of Sweet Voice. “What is it about?”
“It’s, uh…” Benrey trailed off, rubbing some dust off one of the lower keys. “It’s about… I dunno, life? Living here. With you. And being your friend. And, uh. Yeah. Mostly about you.”
“...Me?” Gordon asked, shocked. Benrey continued to avoid his gaze. “Holy shit. I don’t think anyone’s made a song for me before.”
“Mm. Well, feel grateful. Asshole,” Benrey’s heart wasn’t in the insult for once, clearly deflecting. Gordon smiled and scooted closer on the piano bench, leaning against them affectionately.
“It was beautiful. Thank you, Ben.” Gordon pressed a kiss to their cheek, then stood. “I think I’m gonna go to bed for real now. Good night.”
Benrey had their lips closed tightly, holding back Sweet Voice, and nodded instead of responding verbally. When Gordon closed the door behind him, he could still hear and see the pink to blue Sweet Voice from under the door. He wandered back to bed, soothed and happy, and fell asleep to the sounds of Benrey’s composition drifting down the hall once more.