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Waking up after a good night's sleep was a much gentler, slower, more delicate process than the one Kabru experienced most nights, which was more akin to being stabbed right through the heart. If he were to compare it to anything, he likely would have gone with the image of coming home one winter evening after spending the whole day outside in the cold and sitting down by the fireplace or the heater with a blanket wrapped around one's body and a hot beverage in hand. It would take some time before they would be able to thaw out (one could significantly speed up the process by jumping into the fire, of course, but that would only cause more trouble in the end). The warmth would spread through the body slowly and unevenly, depending on the proximity to a heat source, the layers and types of clothing, at caetera. While the blanket wouldn't generate any heat of its own, it would insulate the body from the cold, which would prevent the temperature from dropping further. The hands holding the mug would absorb some of the heat from it, and once one took a sip of the beverage, it would gradually warm them up from the inside, too. Slowly but surely, one would feel themself coming back to life as the body temperature returned to normal.
In the case of waking up, things were a little more complicated. It wouldn't be entirely accurate to say that different parts of the body 'woke up' one after another, though that was indeed what it felt like. A leg did not have a mind of its own, of course. In reality, different regions of the brain would gradually resume activity during the process of regaining consciousness, which caused the staggered effect one could observe as they woke up. Sometimes, however, one had to forgo accuracy in favour of imagery. In Kabru's case, the first part of him to 'wake up' were his legs, more specifically his feet, their toes curling under the blanket, grazing Laios' leg. From there, the wave of consciousness proceeded to climb up his body, waking up each of his internal organs along the way – though they continued to work hard even in their sleep, workaholics that they were. Kabru's fingertips began to tingle, and the sensation proceeded to spread to his hands, and then his arms, all the way to his shoulders. The wave began to slow down as it reached Kabru's head, drawing a yawn out of his mouth before making it to his nose, prompting him to take his first conscious breath. It took care to thoroughly warm up his cheeks before finally taking on his eyes. Feeling his eyelids tingle, Kabru squeezed his eyes shut and let out a noise of protest. His eyelashes fluttered wildly like butterflies struggling against the wind as he desperately resisted the attack.
Ultimately, however, it became increasingly obvious that he would not be able to fall back asleep, and Kabru chose to accept defeat. He blinked awake, scrunching up his nose as he attempted to make sense of his surroundings, and found that he could not open one of his eyes at all. There appeared to be some kind of peach-coloured mound directly in front of the other one. It took him a moment to realise that it was one of Laios' impressive pectorals, which in turn reminded him that he had planned to fall asleep listening to Laios' heartbeat. Indeed, he could still hear it now, pounding directly against his eardrum in an even, steady rhythm. His hand was caught in Laios', their fingers entangled together, as were their legs under the blanket. Kabru could feel Laios' other hand on the small of his back, his fingers all but slipping under the waistband of his boxers. He attempted to tilt his head to look at Laios' face, and found himself stuck. A quick investigation revealed that his ear was glued to Laios' skin like a suction cup. Kabru took a deep breath, gritted his teeth, tore his ear off Laios' chest with a disgusting squelching sound, and found that he couldn't hear anything. Grimacing and shuddering with disgust, he aggressively dug his pinky finger in his ear canal in hopes of unclogging it. His gaze was drawn to a wet spot in the groove between Laios' breasts, and it dawned on him that it may have come out of his own mouth. Did he seriously drool all over Laios in his sleep? How humiliating. He wiped the spot with the back of his hand and finally settled his chin upon Laios’ chest, looking up at him through the sleepy haze.
Laios' face looked exceptionally soft in the early morning light which gave his skin a kind of ethereal glow, and his resting expression was that of perfect contentment and relaxation. His lips were slightly parted, letting out soft, quiet breaths.There was a bubble of saliva in the corner of his mouth, stretched into a wide smile. The skin around his nostrils was lightly flushed, as were his cheeks and the tips of his ears. His dark brown eyelashes fluttered occasionally, briefly turning golden in the pale light. Kabru wished that he could peer inside his brain to see what he was dreaming about. Whatever it was, he seemed to be enjoying it. Yesterday he dreamed about flying – perhaps he discovered another ability this time, such as breathing fire or summoning lightning.
Kabru tried to remember what he dreamed about last night, if anything. He seldom experienced the kind of deep sleep that made fertile breeding ground for dreams, and whenever he did, he would rather not remember them afterwards as, instead of what he imagined regular dreams to be, his psyche would invariably be haunted by nightmarish, apocalyptic visions that felt all too real – and sometimes they were, at least in part, by virtue of being based on the scattered memories from his early childhood. The very memories that Milsiril unsuccessfully attempted to excise from his brain by removing anything that could remind him of his previous life from his immediate surroundings, which, far from helping him forget about his trauma, only deepened the sense of alienation and loss that would follow him for the rest of his life. Whatever sense of identity he may have had prior to the tragedy had been thoroughly obliterated, leaving him scrambling to conceal the emptiness behind a variety of carefully chosen masks. What happened to him was so unspeakable that he had to make sure to never, ever mention it to anybody for fear that by simply acknowledging the event, he would effectively speak it into existence retroactively.
Despite everything, the memory remained like a splinter in his brain, an itch that he was not allowed to scratch, an open wound that would never heal. He went out of his way not to think about it, but as soon as he found himself in a more vulnerable state, delirious from lack of sleep or simply unconscious, the visions would come out to haunt him. Fifteen years had passed since the day his mom died and took a part of his soul with her, and he still remembered it as vividly as if it had only happened yesterday. That was what it felt like, at least. In truth, human memory was extremely malleable, and childhood memories in particular were infamously unreliable due to the limited capacity of the brain to form memories to begin with at such an early age. Many of them would end up being repressed due to trauma, recontextualised and distorted by later events, or simply diluted by the passage of time. For the past fifteen years, Kabru's memory would be gradually corrupted every time he recalled it. By now, he could not confidently describe the events that transpired that fateful day. He couldn't even remember his own mother's face, nor her voice. He probably wouldn't even be able to recognise her in a picture – if any such pictures existed, which they did not. He could, however, recognise her in his memories and his dreams, by the aching in his chest when he felt her presence nearby. Time may have blurred his vision and distorted his hearing, but the echoes of his emotions would continue to reverberate through his body long after he'd forgotten where they came from. This was something that Milsiril could never take away from him.
Even on the nights when he did not remember having any dreams, he would typically wake up with a heavy heart, filled with a sense of dread and unease, his shaky hand reaching for a weapon before he even managed to open his eyes. Kabru had weapons, mostly pocket knives and razors, hidden all over his room and inside his clothes, entirely for the sake of self-defence, of course. He had tiny blades hidden in the soles of his shoes and the sleeves of his long-sleeved shirts, sweaters and turtlenecks, plus a blade sewn into the strap of his bag, multiple knives hidden between his mattress and his bedframe and another one inside his desk, and he always carried a knife in at least one of his pockets. One could say that it was overkill, that it was unlikely that he would ever find himself in a situation that would justify taking all of these measures to defend himself. Perhaps there was some truth to that, but so long as the likelihood was not zero, Kabru would rather stay overly prepared than take unnecessary risks. His tortured psyche, sensing existential threats all around him, drove him to cling on to any sliver of control he could have over his own situation. It was extremely rare, if not impossible, for him to ever truly relax. There was always a part of him that remained alert.
By all accounts, the decision to spend the night at someone else's house, let alone in the same bed as a man he'd only known for a little over a month, was an uncharacteristically risky one, but, despite his reservations, Kabru found himself unable to resist the allure of lying curled up against Laios' soft, warm, large body all night. Of course, he didn't expect that he would actually be able to fall asleep. For one, there was no way that he would be able to let his guard down like that in the presence of another person, no matter how dearly he adored him and, yes, how deeply he trusted him (even though there was a tiny voice in the back of his head that made pretty convincing arguments for why he shouldn't). That aside, he foresaw himself going out of his way to stay awake for as long as possible simply because of the nightmares that were all but guaranteed to make him toss, turn and scream in his sleep, which he desperately wanted to avoid. Even if he were to stay up all night, however, it wouldn't be much of a problem either way – getting to admire Laios' sleeping form had a certain appeal to it. In any case, Kabru thought that he knew what he was signing up for.
Therefore, it came as quite a surprise when he not only managed to sleep peacefully through the night, but also found that he was rid of the familiar sense of uneasiness by the time he woke up. Initially, this alarmed him quite a bit, which was admittedly not the most appropriate reaction to having had a good night's sleep for a change, but in this particular instance, it was quite understandable. However unwelcome the constant lingering sense of anxiety, dread and fatigue may have been, he'd gotten used to it over the years, and to suddenly find it missing was rather disorienting, the same way it would have been if his brain, typically overflowing with thoughts, had suddenly gone radio silent. Simply put, it was unnatural for Kabru to be this well-rested and relaxed. Being unusual did not, however, mean that it was unwelcome. On the contrary, once the initial shock wore off, Kabru quickly grew to appreciate the sense of safety Laios brought into his life, and he would cling on to it for as long as it lasted – which, admittedly, he doubted would be very long. Sooner or later, his old habits were bound to catch up to him, and once they did, there would be no hope of salvaging the relationship he'd built with Laios.
Suddenly Laios’ body stirred, as if he’d sensed Kabru’s thoughts, and a twitch passed through his face, drawing a crease between his eyebrows, scrunching up his nose, pulling the corner of his mouth downwards. It lasted only for a moment before his expression softened again, a soft sigh coming out of his mouth as his chest deflated under Kabru’s chin, and he gave his hand a gentle squeeze, a gesture made all the more tender by the fact that it was entirely unconscious. Carefully, without letting go of Laios’ hand, Kabru pulled himself up into a half-sitting position and used his other hand to cup his cheek, gently stroking the corner of his mouth with his thumb. Laios subconsciously leaned into his touch, his lips curling into a relaxed smile. A wave of affection flooded Kabru’s heart at the sight, and he bit the inside of his cheek to prevent himself from sobbing. He felt the overwhelming, urgent need to protect this boy from any harm that would come his way, the same way he himself had been protected by him at his most vulnerable.
It wasn't just about his ability to sleep next to Laios, although that was certainly a part of it. Laios possessed a mysterious quality that had a repellant effect on Kabru's deepest anxieties. Some dark thoughts remained in Kabru's head, born of suspicion, insecurity and trauma, but they had been much easier to ignore in the presence of a boy he had no reason whatsoever to be wary of – as far as he could tell, at least. Granted, that usually wouldn't have been enough for Kabru to put his full trust in another person, but at this point, he couldn't bring himself to suspect Laios of any ulterior motives. He'd gotten to know him quite well in the month leading up to the start of their relationship, and the two of them had confided in each other about a number of deeply intimate details in the past week, and Laios remained consistently open, honest and genuine the entire time. The notion that he would betray Kabru in any way was patently absurd. Sure, there were some things that he obviously didn't feel comfortable discussing yet, but it wasn't as if Kabru could judge him for that – not without being a hypocrite, at least. While he was definitely curious to learn Laios’ secrets, Kabru sincerely doubted that there was anything that could radically change his opinion of him at this point. Anything short of finding out that he'd committed murder would not faze him, and even then he'd likely chalk it up to some sort of whimsical misunderstanding. Knowing Kabru’s past, on the other hand, would certainly shift Laios’ perspective on him forever.
To this day, Kabru was still reluctant to talk about his past. Whenever he felt tempted to bring up a detail from his childhood, he would sense Milsiril's presence looming menacingly over him, watching him like a hawk to make sure that he wouldn't slip up, the way she'd done when he was a child. Even though she was no longer there, she still held power over his memories, a cold hand clasped over his mouth. Even his closest friends didn't know him all that well, only being familiar with the bits and pieces that he found it necessary to share, namely that he was one of the children taken in by Milsiril (which in itself suggested certain things about his past, but one would need to conduct a pretty thorough investigation to learn anything about his particular situation; Kabru knew this for a fact because his own attempts at research quickly reached a dead end). Rin knew more than the others by virtue of having known him for a long time, but even she didn't know the full story, and neither did he know hers. One did not always need to share all the details of their situation in order to be understood – indeed, sometimes it would be detrimental to do so.
He did, however, want to confide in Laios, and the impulse to do so spoke to something within himself that Kabru would typically rather not acknowledge. Yearning to be truly seen and fully understood was a dangerous tendency for a man who had so much to hide, and so very little to offer in terms of personality. Kabru knew all of that very well, and he'd been decently successful in repressing that particular desire for most of his life, only to throw all caution to the wind regarding his involvement with Laios. It came so easily, too. A part of it was most certainly Laios' earnestness rubbing off on him, but more than that, it was a sense that he would not be punished for revealing too much information or openly expressing his feelings and desires. Whatever pang of anxiety and regret he may have felt afterwards was simply a matter of habit that had nothing to do with the way Laios made him feel. Truthfully, Kabru had already decided that he would tell Laios about his past, and he effectively promised to do so. Not now, probably not anytime soon, but someday, when the time was right, he would open up about all of the things he'd been keeping close to his chest for the past fifteen years. The tragedy, his mom, Milsiril, all of it. He wasn't sure that Laios would care to hear about it – he wasn't particularly interested in personal matters, after all – and he was fairly certain that he wouldn't understand any of it, but nonetheless he felt compelled to tell him everything, even knowing that he would have to deal with the aftermath.
Kabru studied Laios' face from beneath lowered eyelids, stroking his cheek with his thumb. He was such a soft, gentle boy, but there was real strength behind that softness, too, a core of resilience and conviction that kept him pushing against the current of hate and malice that surrounded him and made him capable of looking out for others even though he was barely holding on himself. Kabru admired this about him and feared it at the same time, because he couldn't shake the feeling that one day Laios would do something reckless for his sake and wouldn't even think twice about it. Then again, weren't they both doing just that, in a sense? While they weren't out there telling everyone about their relationship (with the exception of Kabru's friends, which was basically a given), they weren't exactly going out of their way to hide their fondness for each other. All it took was one person who disapproved of their relationship to put them both in danger. Usually Kabru would have preferred to keep his head low to avoid drawing attention to himself, but having Laios by his side emboldened him to take the risk for the sake of love. Perhaps that was what it was all about, really. The unshaken belief that everything would be fine so long as they were together. Kabru couldn't help but smile at the thought, which sounded like something that would come out of Laios' mouth rather than his own. He really was rubbing off on him, it seemed.
Overcome by a wave of affection and fondness, Kabru leaned in to press a kiss between Laios' eyebrows, and narrowly avoided being headbutted in the jaw when Laios suddenly jerked upwards with a growling snore followed by a huff. Kabru stayed put, watching Laios come awake in awed silence. A yawn tore out of his mouth, treating Kabru to a view of his gaping maw (beige-tinted but healthy teeth, big wet tongue with a barely noticeable line down the middle, uvula hanging in the back, tempting him to stick his finger inside and poke it) before it abruptly closed again with a soft click. Laios lightly shook his head and batted his eyelashes in a struggle to open his eyes. When his gaze fell upon Kabru's face hovering above him, Laios froze for a moment, squinting in an effort to focus his vision. “Mmmnnn... Kabru?” he murmured sleepily. When Kabru gave a nod, Laios' face lit up with recognition and relief, his lips curling into a wide smile. “Ah, Kabru! Good morning! It's really good to see you. What time is it?” he asked, with a hint of worry, before moving on to the next, infinitely more important topic. “Oh, yeah, did you sleep well?”
Kabru cracked a smile. He still couldn't remember what he dreamed about last night, if anything at all, but that may have been a good sign, all things considered. The dream faded from his memory as soon as it was over, but it left him with a lingering feeling of warmth, comfort and safety, which certainly counted for something. Then again, that might not have been due to any dream at all. It may have simply been because he spent the night next to Laios, who protected him from the night terrors the way a blanket would protect him from the cold, whose body radiated warmth much like a heater or a fireplace, but would not burn him if he touched it. “Yes,” Kabru said softly, pressing a kiss between Laios' eyebrows, “I slept very well, thank you.”