Work Text:
How much time can a star resist the pressure, before becoming a supernova?
How much can you?
-
You woke up feeling restless, eyes dry, joints aching.
It was unfair. The morning felt too beautiful to feel so much like shit. Warm lights leaving the cracks of the blinds. The far away sound of cars, and birds, and people, a world full of life, and yet, you didn't want to face it today.
You turned around, but then turned back, groaning softly as you couldn't fall asleep. You checked your phone real quick, noticing the time.
9:00
On a weekday a blessing, but on a weekend a curse.
You brought your phone back on the nightstand.
You turned back around, suddenly noticing a movement beside you, looking at your boyfriend, surprised.
Surprised by him, and by the fact you somehow forgot that you were living together for a while now.
Shigeo slept peacefully, jet black strands splayed across soft cotton pillows. Long lashes on closed eyelids, and the quiet sounds of breathing. There was a bit of drool falling from the side of his lip, staining the pillow, and the sight made you snort softly.
He was a heavy sleeper, as well as you. Though, you had your moments, or months of waking early. Probably due to college itself fucking your circadian rhythm.
Shigeo's eyelids fluttered for a moment, and you wondered if your shuffling would actually wake him up. You hoped it wouldn't be the case, you'd feel even more awful if you did.
You tried to stay still, leaning on your side, and hugging yourself as you looked at him.
He felt so far away...
And because you couldn't help yourself, you reached your hand forward. Carefully carding your fingers through his bangs, tucking some of his hair behind his ear (which mostly fell out back to his face) and caressing his cheek for a second, before pulling back your arm.
You thought about kissing his cheek or his forehead, but you didn't want to wake him up, so you didn't. Instead you just stared. Your eyelids still felt quite heavy, and even though you knew you wouldn't be able to sleep again, you still shut down your eyes, with a quiet, tired sigh.
You didn't know how many minutes or seconds passed, or if you actually fell asleep (You didn't), but when you opened your eyes again. You saw deep, almost, black eyes looking at your own.
"Sorry... Did I woke you up?" You asked, already knowing the response. He hesitated for a second, clearly wanting to say no. But his disdain for lying would always be present, even in moments like this.
"Yes..." He said, voice quiet like a whisper.
A simple word couldn't hold so much weight, but in between soft cotton sheets, and early morning hours, everything felt still, even in life.
It felt too sincere, too raw, scary... Though lately everything did.
So you leaned foward, lightly kissing his lips.
An apology. A search for comfort.
Indulgence. Selfishness.
A small smile formed on his lips, eyes lidded with leftover sleep. You smiled back at him, and he leaned foward, caressing your cheek, and tucking your hair behind your ear.
Your eyes fluttered closed, and when he tucked your bangs, you felt yourself exhale a laugh. You opened your eyes slightly, barely touching his side under the covers, your fingertips hovering. "Copycat..."
His smile widened a little more, the corner of his lips twisting upwards. You grabbed his waist pulling him towards you, the same moment he guided your face back to his for another kiss. A little less fleeting. A little more awake.
You sighed, pressing your forehead on his shoulder, hugging his waist, as his hands softly, tentatively, flattened on your back.
"..."
"..."
He was worried, you knew he was.
He knew there was something wrong.
He was thinking of a way to bring this up, without upsetting you.
Your thumb caressed the fabric of his pajamas.
Encouragement for him? Grounding for you?
You didn't know.
He talked.
"Did something happen yesterday?"
"...I had a panic attack"
Why bother hiding the truth? Why bother with sugarcoating?
You never go to bed before him.
You never sleep early.
You're always awake when he comes home.
There was a Blister pack on the nightstand...
Suddenly, you felt the chill in your spine. A memory of agonizing terror.
The fear and remembrance of your own fragile mortality. A sickness spreading to your system, rotting your core.
Dizziness, shortness of breath, tremors, heartache. The tears wouldn't stop falling. Millions of thoughts flowing a brain who couldn't hold them. A breaking mind. A downward spiral.
But nothing a sleeping pill and a glass of water couldn't fix... right?
Your brain was fucked. Your body was wrong. What if you had a tumor? What if you had cancer? Panic attacks can happen with them.
Electric Currents in your brain being rewritten, changing pathways, wrong synapses, changing slowly who you are.
What if you're already changing without even noticing? What if it happens again? Oh, God. How would you know if it happens again? You wouldn't be able to control it.
You could die tomorrow, and you wouldn't even notice. Is gonna happen. Something bad is gonna happen. Something-
You felt hands squeezing your arms, the same way you would pull someone out of freezing waters.
Bringing you back.
"You're trembling..."
Huh...? You were.
You breathed deeply and slowly, relaxing yourself in a practiced manner. Your hands squeezed his waist for a moment, as he pulled you close. You exhaled softly.
"I didn't think I would have one of those again... I knew they were frequent in high-school, but is the first one I've had in years..."
His hand pressed on your back.
"Do you want to talk about it?"
You led out a dry laugh.
"I wouldn't even know what to say... I don't know why it happened..." Even without seeing him, you felt him worry. You leaned back, a small reassuring smile on your lips. "But I will tell you... I will tell you, when I do."
He nodded, looking worried still.
"Is there anything else I could do?"
You looked away feeling embarrassed, sucking in a breath, as you blushed.
Again.
Too sincere. Too raw. Scary.
Vulnerability often felt like that.
"Could you hold me?" You asked tentatively, side eyeing him nervously. "...Scratch my head? ...Rub my back?"
His gaze was too soft, his smile too warm.
And it almost annoyed you how fast you relaxed the moment he embraced you completely. When the distance was truly gone.
A hand traced a small pattern on your back, running his fingers on your spine. While the other went to you head, scratching your scalp tenderly, his thumb rubbing on your nape. You sighed, burying your face on the crook of his neck, your hands grabbing handfuls of the shirt on his back. He was warm, you could feel the soft humid breathing of his mouth against the side of your cheek, hear the slow heartbeat of the pulse on his neck.
After a couple of minutes, you felt a known energy seeping from him, as he shuffled slightly against the mattress. His hands stopped carefully, only keeping the rubbing on the back of your neck. Thinking. Planning a question.
You nodded, before he even asked, and felt his aura cover you like a blanket.
You always compared it to electricity the times you've felt it, but in moments like this, it felt like wind. Like waves made of air. Like all the gravity of the earth pressing down deep on your limbs.
A feeling you'd never quite describe, but always felt like an itch you finally could scratch.
Pressure and warmth ran down your body, like if they were his own hands. Tracing the inside of your wrist, squeezing you arms, scratching your back, caressing your thighs, pressing the joints of your legs, and your ankles. Making your body melt, and your muscles relax.
His hands kept caressing, and scratching the back of your neck and head, and your eyes closed again. Feeling suddenly so comfortable that you felt like crying all over.
"Does that feel better?"
You nodded enthusiasticly, without pulling away from his neck. He let out a small chuckle, and you felt your heart squeeze a little.
"I'm glad"
He kept running the energy of his power through your body, like if he were molding you like clay.
Caringly, in the same way you would pet a cat.
Carefully, in the same way you would thread a needle.
And you knew that you were bad.
That you shouldn't deserve this.
Cause a sudden fucked up thought came to your mind.
A deep sudden want. A need, for extreme pressure to keep squeezing. Of chocking gasps. Of tearing flesh and limbs. Of inside out explosions. Of your body giving in and turning into a red gory mass.
You felt like you wanted to ask him to do it, just for the comfort of knowing his response.
Still, even though you felt a part of you would want that, you knew the question would upset him.
This desperation of jumping out of your own skin, of tearing, of the need to contain yourself when you felt like too much of your own body. When everything felt too much.
This, was fleeting. Temporary. You knew that.
He wasn't
The pressure, his aura, felt better than those thoughts. Grounding. Like cleaning a messy room or untangling strings, it felt comforting like the feeling of sun against the skin during a nap, like the breeze of the wind, like laying against the grass. It felt comforting, forgiving, soothing.
And it felt... so much like him...
In that moment, no pain in the world could trap you.
No despair would fully reach your heart.
Cause you were safe.
Cause you are safe.
"Thank you..." You muttered, a relaxed sigh leaving your lips, Your eyelids felt heavy. You sensed the pressure of the energy faltering, but never leaving. You felt shuffling again, and the brush of lips on your forehead. On your cheek.
When his lips reached yours, you pressed forward, mumbling something on his lips. You felt the energy shift, and while you started dozing off. You felt his smile, you felt a hand squeezing yours, over your heart and under the sheets. A response.
"I love you too"
Deep in slumber, your lips turned upwards on their own.