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It’s never bothered you – the way Leon’s insomnia seems to have bled into your own nighttime routine. Ever since his return from Spain – a trip he refused to discuss – the occasional bouts of insomnia have turned into a far more persistent beast. There was only so much you could do for him, only so much he would allow you to do for him – if only he could just open up. You thought you knew Leon pretty well by now, but finding him on the balcony tonight with a cigarette in hand had you thinking – wow, maybe you didn’t.
“Those things will kill you, you know.” You’re trying to tease, but it comes out half-hearted. Something is wrong. He used to smoke but quit after being drafted into that top secret government program of his. You’re not sure when or how he got his hands on a pack of smokes, but something about the way he fiddled with the cigarette told you this wasn’t his first one of the night. Leon gives you a weak laugh, a light huff of air that smelled of the cigarette’s musk.
“I’ll be back in bed soon. Get some rest.” You lean against the railing to watch him, much to his disappointment. He stares down at his hands, then you. “Are you mad?”
You shake your head softly. “Do you wanna talk?” Of course, he didn’t. You knew that. It’s why he sneaks off in the night to seek comfort in nicotine instead. Leon hangs his head and takes a drag. He does it so well, like he never quit at all. You can’t help but picture a younger version of Leon doing the same. Perhaps he smoked with other recruits during his police training; a young rookie who would rather cough and splutter than admit he couldn’t keep up with the tar.
“Not really ready to.” Leon admitted gently, “Sorry.”
“It’s okay.” You wrap your arms around yourself and decide to face the street instead. You just didn’t want him to be alone right now. Leon had a nasty habit of getting stuck inside his own thoughts, which made the insomnia worse. Silence fell between the two of you – comfortable and long – as he smoked. You didn’t check the time before rushing to find Leon, but it had to have been early morning based on the quiet street below. A pair of pale blue eyes calmly watched you survey the stars above, or what little could be seen through the light pollution.
“I used to live near a casino as a kid.” Leon’s words cut through the night air, and you nearly jolted from his sudden – albeit quiet – declaration. His voice came out hushed, as if afraid of disturbing the city’s peaceful night. “About thirty minutes away from our house. We went all the time. Not to gamble, of course – I was too small for that. My family liked going to the buffet.” His cigarette tapped against the railing, shaking off the excess. “I hated going. You couldn’t escape the smell of cigarettes.” You watched the end of Leon’s mouth flick up into a tired smile that never reached his eyes. “But the chocolate cake was the best there.”
Leon worries you sometimes. Just as he begins to pull away, he’d catch himself, and somehow reel you both back in. The story about the casino almost felt like an apology somehow. Like he was saying, I’m sorry I can’t tell you everything yet, but here is what I’m willing to share. “You think all chocolate cake is the best.” You whisper back. Leon shakes his head, your response genuinely making him smile.
“I have standards, you know.” You hum lightly, feigning disbelief, and silence prevails again.
Maybe on another night he would have stayed in bed; it wasn’t unusual to wake up to gentle tugs as Leon played with the hem of your sleep shirt, staring off into the darkness. On nights like those, he didn’t like talking either. Instead, he’d feign some half-hearted apology for waking you – but you both knew he meant to – before softly sliding his hand up your shirt. The sex took his mind off of whatever haunted memory came to plague his thoughts in the cruel hours of the night when sleep eluded him. He’d mewl soft thank you’s into your neck, fist your shirt like your flush bodies weren’t nearly as close as he needed you to be.
After, you’d run a shaky hand through his tousled hair and refuse to sleep yourself until Leon’s breath evened out into a light snore. To you, there wasn’t a sweeter sound in this world that could compete. And no sweeter sight than the blush across his cheekbones the next morning when you teased him for drooling on your shirt. Perhaps he felt guilty for waking you like that so often. Maybe that’s why cigarettes have taken your place tonight.
Another cloud of smoke fills the night air as Leon exhales, this one shakier than his last. “You don’t have to stay out here, you know.” Leon isn’t looking at you when he says this, “One of us should get a good night’s sleep, at least.” He then huffs out a mirthless laugh, “Fuck, I feel like I’m giving you second-hand insomnia at this point.” You bite your lip to hold back a stupid grin, but Leon frowns at you, “That wasn’t meant to be a pun.”
“You’re a natural.”
“I’m serious.” He insists.
A hum leaves you. “I am too. I’m out here because I want to be.” You gravitate to him without meaning to, your hand landing on his arm like a satellite pulled into orbit. His sullen eyes drop to the contact and stay there, “You don’t have to do this alone.” Your thumb gently glides across his moonlit skin, “And as long as I’m here, you won’t have to, got that?”
You don’t mind reminding Leon of this every so often. You’d repeat it a thousand more times if you had to, and you might. There’s a heavy pause after your statement as Leon watches your hands. You understood that he was worried, but losing a few hours of sleep to give him company – peace – was well worth it. An ambulance siren starts up somewhere in the distance, and he finally nods in defeat. “Okay.”
“Okay,” You repeat and let go of his arm, “Glad we settled that.” He curiously watches you step away to press your back against the railing, content with yourself. “You know, some chairs would be nice out here. I’m always thinking that, but I dunno, what do you think?”
You thought he didn’t hear you at first with how long it took him to finally respond to your dumb ramble. “Yeah,” He breathes out, and you hum comfortably. You’re about to suggest a shopping trip in the afternoon when a sudden pair of arms are pulling you to the side. The world spins when Leon’s warm lips find yours, kissing you like your skin holds all the answers to his desperate questions. And you don’t mind that his mouth tastes like cigarettes and unspoken horrors. You welcome his touch, his tongue, his broken gasps; you welcome all of him as he is. When he pulls away, his eyes are still closed, but your own trace every inch of his tired face. You wished he’d let you in on what’s going on in his head tonight. If you could ease his pain – just for a bit – it’s all you could ask for. Leon will come to you on his own terms though; it wasn’t anything personal. It takes courage to face the monstrosities of this world, but even more to talk about them.
You only noticed he extinguished his cigarette when both his hands rose to trace your jawline. “Are you ready for bed?” He asks breathlessly.
“Only if you’re coming with me.” You murmur back.
“Yeah,” He sighs, thumbing your cheek, “I think I’m ready.”
It occurred to you, in the early rays of morning sun, that maybe Leon couldn’t sleep because he was scared to. Maybe stewing in his own thoughts for hours on end fared him better than whatever horrors awaited in his dreams. But in the glow of morning light, Leon slept so soundly, so quietly. Your hand came up to softly brush a stray piece of blonde hair away from his cheek; what were you dreaming of, Leon? What keeps you up at night?
You’ll never know for sure, but maybe you didn’t need to.