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Zenitsu starred up into the ceiling, major death anxiety crawled through his skin, especially at night. He can't even fall asleep because his heart pounds at the notion that many people die without reason in their sleep.
And so he lays there, eyes wide open and arms outstretched. At an ungodly hour of the night, the weather is cool enough, just perfect to roll under a blanket and get the recommended 8 hours of sleep.
Zenitsu wonders what time it is, how tired he'll be the next morning since the only way he can seem to fall asleep these days is by tiring himself out. Usually by running a few laps around the Inn and slipping into bed before anyone notices.
Tonight though, Zenitsu didn't really want to get up. It was calming to just lay there and not fall asleep, he could spend time alone with his self-sabotaging thoughts or—
He could listen to Tanjirou's heart beat.
The harmony was perfect, it sounded of everything from a gentle river stream to wind chimes on a breezy day. It made Zenitsu want to cry in a genuine manner, not in the overexaggerated panic attacks type of way. More like a quiet pained but stress relieving type of sobbing.
When the brunet was awake, Zenitsu could always hear a quiet mourning. A feeling of guilt, despair and the sheer love in his sound when he talked about his family.
Zenitsu knew from detailed late night conversations— when Tanjirou had nightmares— about what happened to his family.
It was comforting for Zenitsu to know that for Tanjirou— and unlike Zenitsu, sleep was a temporary escape from the grief.
Zenitsu never had a family, the only things he can get himself to remember seem to only be horrible things so he shoves it into a closet of his mind and locks it, never looking back. He doesn't feel the need to relive the beatings he had as a child.
Despite his efforts, some memories stayed present in his mind. Easily accessible with a question instead of wracking his brain for it.
The days he wandered the busy city streets as a preteen, hungry, lonely and alone. He remembers thinking about his distrust of older women and men, specifically middle aged ones. They were always the cruellest when he begged for food or money. Older and younger people were safer options.
Grandmother's of other children patted his head gently while they handed him a loaf or two of western style bread. It was nice, having another person touch you with such tenderness.
Huh, maybe that's what he needed?
Zenitsu remembered an older women talking about how he was unlovable as her child and the only way he'll ever find love is if he ever found anyone patient enough to be his wife—
No no no, not tonight, Zenitsu really didn't want to think about that specific memory right now.
He suddenly felt frigid despite the thick blanket on top of him. He needed any warmth, any physical contact with someone, in desperation he looked to his side and—
Tanjirou.
Tanjirou never abandoned him. Tanjirou never stopped having hope in him.
Tanjirou always smiled lovingly at him, even as he sobbed and whined about missions.
He wanted to hold a part of Tanjirou's never ending warmth, hoping the sun itself would be willing to share its burning heat.
He turned his head to Tanjirou's futon. His arm was outstretched too, but Zenitsu didn't want to do something that might weird out Tanjirou, so he decided to ask instead.
"Tanjirou!" he whisper-shouted, "Tanjirou!"
A grumble from the other boy rose, "What?" he asked the blond, groggily wondering what had him awake this late at night.
"Hold my hand? Please?" Zenitsu asked, the usually sweet smell of peaches was sour and.. Lonely. He suddenly remembered Zenitsu telling him how much his own heartbeat relaxed the blond.
The water breath user grabbed the other boy's hand, before pulling strongly, getting a quick shriek from the thunder breath user.
"T—Tanji—"
"Shhh, just focus on my heart if that helps you sleep." The eldest Kamado said sleepily, clearly not thinking this through, before tucking his chin right above the yellow mop of hair and holding the boy with his arms.
He smelled a tad of nervousness that eventually dissipated with time, turning relaxed and then comfortable. The hanafuda wearing boy foggily thought about what kept the blond's smell so lonely and made a mental note to ask about it the next morning before falling into a deep sleep.