Work Text:
Norman had always had trouble sleeping. The nightmares weren’t so bad anymore, and he was at least grateful for that. But “better” didn’t mean “gone;” and, nightmares or not, he struggled to fall asleep and stay that way. He was nervous and restless and he just couldn’t quit, not even if given the chance. Like a shark, he always had to be moving, always had to be thinking. If he stopped, his mind would surely kill him.
Or someone else.
So when Mary suggested that he rest for a while- “Why don’t you lie down and take a nap?” she’d said, seeing him yawn earlier in the afternoon- he was skeptical. Staring at the ceiling in his half-lidded, drowsy state, he remembered worrying about what had happened the last time he’d let himself doze off. He’d woken up to a murder in his own home; and no matter what Mary told him, he struggled to believe that he wasn’t somehow responsible for it.
Thinking about yawning only gave him the urge to yawn again. His eyes drooped, then watered; in search of a comfortable position, Norman rolled onto his side.
This was much better. From here, he could curl up defensively- a woodlouse under a rock, a wolf in a den. The summer air filtering through the window was warm enough that he didn’t need a blanket. Laying atop the quilt more than sufficed. Nestling his head into the nearest pillow, Norman tried to follow Mary’s instructions- close his eyes, breathe deeply, quiet his thoughts until they were a dull hum in the background. The last of these was easier said than done. Even so, he found the sensation of being alone with said thoughts… surprisingly peaceful, after a while. Of course, he couldn’t just think about nothing. He’d never been able to. But perhaps, Norman figured, he was too tired now to dwell on his usual doom and gloom. The longer he lay motionless, the more he adjusted to doing so. It wasn’t long before opening his eyes again was harder than keeping them closed.
He knew there was no going back when his
thoughts,
once
clear
as
day,
began
blurring
together
into
nonsense.
The sleep that followed was unlike anything Norman had experienced before. When it came to an end, he remembered exactly none of it- and that was why it was perfect. Never before had he slept so deeply, so thoroughly, so… dreamlessly. And never before, he thought, as he scanned the room and found no signs of violence, had he been so certain that he was asleep. He pulled his pillow closer to him in a vain effort to recapture that bliss-
-and blinked, surprised, at the feeling of a familiar wool sweater pressing against him now.
Mary?
You filthy, rotten boy! You’ve done it again, haven’t you?
What was she doing here? He’d told her he was going to sleep, didn’t he? Or did he not? He couldn’t remember. Oh, God, he couldn’t remember. That was never a good sign. Wide awake now, he tried to do as he’d been told- deep breaths, he reminded himself. It’s okay. Don’t always assume the worst. Maybe you didn’t-
First you run off with that whore, then you cut her open just like you did all the others, and now- and now!- you have the audacity to sleep beside her corpse! Oh, what am I going to do with you?
The longer he lay there, the more his breathing trembled; the more futile his attempts to reassure himself were. Each hopeful thought drowned in a wave of rising panic and nausea, to the point where he had to sit up if he wanted any chance at keeping his lunch down. Heart pounding, he frantically looked to his side and scanned over Mary’s body.
Her lungs rose and fell peacefully.
No blood. No stab wounds. None of that sickening pallor or limpness he’d come to know all too well. Norman would have laughed at himself if he’d had the energy. Instead, he just let out a deep sigh of relief. Mary was fine.
Maybe he was still a bit sick to his stomach, but his pulse was gradually climbing down from his throat now- slowing down at the knowledge that she was safe.
They both were.
Everything was fine.
Look at you! You’ve left your poor mother in shambles! You’re lucky I can’t get my hands on you, otherwise I’d beat you within an inch of your-
Norman tried to shake the excess fear from his mind as he sank back down into his pillow. Sighing again, he relaxed his muscles to the best of his ability and closed his eyes. Maybe if he lay still, pretended Mary wasn’t there, he could return to that state of near-hibernation he had fallen into so effortlessly before. He had to ignore her. It pained him, but anything else was strange. Why was she here? It wasn’t normal for friends to share beds like this, was it? Friends didn’t take naps together. Friends didn’t cuddle. That was…
Vile! Vile and sinful! Something you’d only do with a slut like her, that’s what!
Saliva rose into his mouth. He swallowed it before something else could come up after it. A dreadful feeling simmered in the pit of his stomach, one he had experienced countless times before but would never quite get used to. He wasn’t being a creep, was he? No, he couldn’t have been- Mary had entered the room of her own accord. Norman allowed himself a single, quiet groan and decided to distract himself by staring at the ceiling again.
His eyelids were just beginning to feel heavy when Mary stirred beside him, murmuring to herself. Norman turned his head and watched as her eyes fluttered. To her, waking up seemed like a much greater ordeal than it was for him. She stretched her legs, arched her back, made a very distinct “I’m-stretching-and-this-is-the-sound-of-the-tension-leaving-my-body” sort of noise, sighed, and then looked at him with a smile still half-asleep. The whole thing was almost ritualistic, as if she had done it a million times before. Norman forced a smile back at her, just to be polite.
“Hi.” Mary was the first to speak. “How’d you sleep?”
Norman hesitated. Then he stammered. At last, he landed on, “Fine. What are you doing here?”
Yawning and rolling onto her back so she could sit up, she said, “I came in to check up on you. You seemed so peaceful, it made me want to join you. I hope you don’t mind.”
“Oh.”
Norman reflected on this. Subconsciously, he found himself mirroring her movements. The room was quiet, aside from the occasional yelling of children and humming of cars outside. As he looked out the window- evening already? How long had he slept?- it dawned on him that his prior queasiness was gone.
Mary piped up again, her voice uncertain. “Um… do you mind?”
“Not at all.” He turned to look at her with the same polite smile from before. “Just ask next time, okay?”
“Okay. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be,” Norman said, leaning back. “You didn’t know. Thank you for not trying to, uh… touch me, or anything.”
She nodded- “Of course”- and they both fell back into silence. Now that he was breathing more regularly, Norman could devote his attention to the view outside. Fiery red clouds greeted him, spanning far over the treeline, mistranslating the sun’s rays into pink and orange and violet the further along they went. Dogs and their owners wrapped up their evening walks on the street below. A slight breeze rustled the trees over the houses, and in that moment- just in that moment- he was happy to be nestled safely at home.
“I’m surprised you say that, actually.” Mary’s gaze followed his. “I move a lot in my sleep, so I might have brushed up against you by accident.”
For the first time in a while, Norman gave a genuine chuckle. “Don’t worry about it. I wouldn’t have noticed anyway. I may as well have been in a coma.”
“Yeah, I can tell,” Mary joked. “I’m glad you had a nice nap. I did, too. I always assumed you were a light sleeper, so I was surprised to see you out like that.”
“I guess we both needed the rest.”
Mary nodded.
“You snore, y’know,” she added, out of nowhere. When he looked at her, she was smiling. “You’re not loud. If anything, it helped me fall asleep. Even when you’re unconscious, you’re still polite.”
“Really?” A grin teased at his lips. “That’s reassuring. I knew someone with a horrible snoring problem once.”
“In the… ?”
She didn’t have to finish for him to know what she meant. “Yeah. He’d wake up in the middle of the night sometimes, because he couldn’t breathe. I was already wired all the time. You can probably imagine how well I slept there.”
“That sounds horrible,” Mary said, her brows furrowing. “Good thing you’re not there anymore. You must have been exhausted.”
Norman brushed an errant strand of hair out of his face. “Well, it’s no big deal, really. I only knew him for the last few years. Besides, you’ll be exhausted, too,” he added wryly, “when you’re old like me.”
Mary laughed and shook her head. “I doubt that. I’m gonna stay young and spry forever. You’ll see. I’ll be pushing fifty and still think I’m twenty-two.”
“You say that now,” he quipped back at her. “Just wait. I wish I had your resolve when I was your age.”
“Who’s to say you can’t have it now?”
“What?”
“That’s the whole point of this trip, isn’t it? So you can live a little. You know, walk on the wild side.” Mary tilted her head. “Just ‘cause you’re older now doesn’t mean you have to give up on the things you missed out on. Resolve is a skill. It’s just one you need to work on.”
Norman had never thought of it that way before. “I… I guess so,” he said, still not entirely understanding.
Mary chuckled at this and affectionately headbutted his arm, nestling closer to him. “Whatever. I’m too tired to think about that right now. Wanna go back to sleep?”
The idea of napping again was tempting- enough so that it weighed down his body when Mary suggested it. Still, though, something nagged at the back of his mind. “I’d like to, but…”
“What?”
“Mary, is it…” Norman hesitated. “Is this… normal? Have you ever done this sort of thing with a friend before?”
She lifted her eyes to meet his. “What, share a bed with them?”
He nodded.
“Oh, sure. When I was younger, I had a few sleepovers at my friends’ houses. Sometimes we’d lie together and watch movies until we fell asleep. I remember it being a lot of fun. And up until I dropped out, I was friendly with a lot of people. Guys, girls. I’d lay in their lap or they’d let me do their hair. I guess… huh.”
She took a moment to consider.
“My mother was never really affectionate growing up,” Mary explained, “but my father was. So once I got used to it, that was it. There was no going back, you know? I had to find kindness wherever I went.”
A wistful look overcame her until she asked, “Why?”
“Because…” He swallowed. “Because I never… I didn’t think this was something friends did. It felt strange. Wrong. Like maybe I was getting too close to you for it to be friendly.”
“Well, do you feel anything other than friendly?”
“No.”
“Then it’s no big deal. If you cross a line, trust me, you’ll know. But so long as you don’t, who cares? Not me.”
That was fair, Norman supposed.
“Hell,” she continued, “I think friends should be able to get close like this, if they want to. Humans are social creatures. We need touch. We need contact. We need to know that we’re loved, and just because it comes from a friend doesn’t make it worth any less. That’s what I think.”
Norman smiled. “You sure talk like a psych student.”
“Hey, I’m not that smart. Just parroting what I’ve learned. People have been doing shit like this for as long as there’ve been people. It’s a shame we don’t anymore, at least not as often. We’re pack animals. That’s all there is to it.”
“Like dogs?”
“Yeah,” Mary said, closing her eyes again and leaning her head against him. “Like dogs.”
Norman hummed contentedly. Stifling a yawn, he placed an arm around her shoulders and found comfort in the warmth of her sweater. “I guess that’s why they’re man’s best friend.”
“That’s right.” She nudged his side. “You’re smarter than you give yourself credit for. Did I ever tell you that?”
“I could say the same to you.”
“I’m not sure if I’m ready to believe that yet.” Mary’s voice had softened, had become something vulnerable and small compared to the confidence she’d exuded earlier. “But thank you.”
“Well,” Norman began thoughtfully, “I hope you are someday.”
“I hope so, too.”
The minutes passed by in relative quiet. Before long, Mary was once again snoozing beside him. Where once the thought of being beside her made him anxious, now it was just the soothing presence Norman needed to let himself do the same.
A part of him knew already, as he drifted off, that this would be the best nap he’d had in years.