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Darkness swallowed everything around him. Teeth gnawed away at his flesh, but he couldn’t swat those teeth away. Every cell of his body was frozen into place, all cold and icy, while his insides burned with the fury of the dead.
Why? Why did you do this to me?
Why aren’t you suffering like I did?
Why are you still alive?
More and more voices echoed around him, hollow and creeping into his mind like invisible poison, burning him from the inside. He tried to breathe, but there were fingers, too, pushing into his mouth the second he tried to open it. Fingers pulled at his lips, hurting him, tearing him apart while choking him in the endless darkness of the void. There was blood and pain, sharp and dull at the same time, and more hands ripping into his flesh.
You killed me.
You killed us.
You deserve to die.
Hands pressed onto his eyes, onto his chest, onto his entire body. He couldn’t move. More and more hands joined the others, until it felt like he was buried under a mass of hands, pressing him down and down… and further down. The void became even darker, until even the black of his surroundings creeped into every crevice of his mind and body. There was nothing but the hands and the darkness for him. That and the voices still whispering to him:
You need to die.
You don’t deserve happiness.
You don’t deserve your life when you have taken mine away from me.
A first deep breath in, and Obito awoke. For a split second, he merely stared into the darkness of the room, just to sit up straight and breathe again. In and out, as the imaginary weight of his nightmare faded ever so slowly back into the hellscape of his own mind. Every fresh wave of air breezing through his lungs made the load of the nightmare a little bit lighter, just a little bit more bearable. But it wasn’t enough, couldn’t be enough.
Bending forward, Obito leaned his head against his bended knees, soles planted onto the mattress. His hand was shaky as he combed through his sweaty hair, the skin ever so slightly feverish and damp.
Fuck. A nightmare, still, after all those years… No matter what he dreamed about, the things his mind conjured were always leaving him in the dust, all disturbed and a complete mess. Again, Obito scrubbed through his hair, so hard he could feel some loose hairs between his fingers when he pulled his hand away. With his eyes closed, you tried to breathe more, maybe even calm down, if that was possible.
But he didn’t expect for another hand to sleepily reach out to his side, melting against his body when the small fingers made contact with his skin.
“... ‘bito?”
He nodded weakly. No way he could talk now, with how breathy and heavy he still was. So, he waited, waited and felt how the smaller hand traced the last bow of his ribs towards his sternum, all gentle yet insistent to reach more skin, before the belonging body had to edge closer and bump into his side.
“Obito?” the voice called out again. And fuck, even in his nightmare-fueled state in between terror and anxiety, Obito couldn’t help but swoon a little bit. He knew every little nuance of that voice by now. After years of knowing them, months of going out, weeks of living together, it was to be expected. Still, this sleep-riddled mumble was kind of new to him, but nevertheless, it made his heart bloom.
“I’m okay.”
“You’re lying.” The hand creeped further over his chest, only to rest over his heart. The palm flattened completely against his chest, checking on him with touch and sound alone. “What’s wrong?”
Obito opened his mouth, but didn’t say anything. He couldn’t. Nothing would come out, his tongue refusing to move in the ways he willed it to, so, he just stayed silent and shook his head.
Silence followed, which was simply heaven after the hateful voices of his dreams. The hand was still pressed flatly against his chest, warming up his skin and his side, where the body connected with his. It helped, so much so, he couldn’t help but reach up and interlace the fingers at his chest with his own. He sighed as the contact strengthened, prolonged and the warmth of their love seeping into his weary bones.
Closing his eyes, he tried to concentrate on the surrounding sounds. He found that this helped, more than any nice words or comforting touches did (though, those were a close second). He listened to his own breathing, still shallow and a bit labored, like he had run the distance between Konohagakure and Sunagakure without a break. He listened to the weak whistle of the heaters around the flat, working away to keep the cold of a Konoha Autumn out of their shared space. And he listened to the person beside him: their breathing, deep and slow, to their heartbeat, just as slow and calm, and to the weak shuffles of a naked body rubbing against the slightly coarse fabric of the blankets.
They knew how he worked through these nightmares. So, they let him, and he was eternally grateful for that. It took ages, or maybe only minutes, until his heart calmed down the tiniest bit and his mind wasn’t racing any longer with scary scenarios, but their presence and the hand in his own, still pressed against his chest, helped so much.
“Thanks,” he mumbled quietly, when his jaw wasn’t so tense anymore he couldn’t speak up. “This was… intense.”
“And I already told you,” the sleepy voice beside him mumbled, “making jokes isn’t the way to go.”
“But that’s how I cope”, he laughed. Turning his head, he could barely make out the silhouette of his partner in the darkness, all entwined with the blanket, pillow and himself. A temptation, born from reality and not from his dark and disturbed mind.
“What happened?”
Obito sighed; a heavy sigh which came from deep within his stomach, rose into his chest and came out as nothing but a sound and a small wave of wind, smelling ever so faintly of toothpaste. “Not… not much,” he said, while his thumb started to tap against the back of their hand, “just… you know, the usual.”
“The usual?”
“Mhm.”
“So… lots of guilt, shadow-y figures trying to bury you alongside them, lots of whispering about how you don’t deserve anything?”
Obito nodded. Talking about his nightmares once sounded so silly and insignificant, so stupid overall. Those were just bad dreams, right? No matter if he refused to sleep afterward and preferred to stare into the endless dark of his bedroom ceiling, or if he cried his eyes out and screamed his throat raw, or if he just drank himself into a stupor to fucking forget, those were just dreams. And every reaction he paid to them made them… bigger and more, and so much worse.
Talking with his partner, though, had helped. Oddly enough. Even about the recurring nightmares of being fucking buried alive under a mountain of souls he reaped before their time, all his guilt and shame out in the open and for them to judge.
But they didn’t judge. Or at least, didn’t judge too harshly. So, like this, he allowed them to pull him into their embrace, down into the cushions and on top of them.
It was so easy to close his eyes and breathe their smell in. Home and safety, an important part of his small family, right here in his arms. Right here, in this very second. Instinctively, his arms closed more around them, dragging them closer even though he couldn’t possibly get even closer to them. He buried them beneath his body, but they didn’t mind. Never minded, never had.
Their hands spread over his back, fingers twitching and discovering the planes of his skin anew. Carefully, they followed the lines of his ribs, fingertips sliding across the scars and rough texture of the artificial surface. A path they often took, whenever they embraced like this.
“Maybe,” they spoke up, their soft whisper muffled in his hair, “we need to amp up the therapy sessions.”
“Mhmm.”
“It could help.”
“Probably.”
“Want to talk about it?”
“No,” Obito sighed as he buried his face in their neck, breathing in the scent and relishing in it, “not now. Tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow, then”, they agreed. But even when the silence fell over them, with the darkness once more becoming a comfortable blanket to wrap himself in, he listened to their quickly slowing breath until the weak snoring he loved so much disturbed the air in the room again.
Yeah, this was still the best way to calm down after such a nightmare. With another low sigh, Obito closed his eyes. Maybe, he might even be able to catch a bit more sleep.