Work Text:
Protag woke with a start, sitting directly up in bed, breathing fast. It had been a while since his last nightmare about the elevator, but tonight, the memory of falling from the ninth floor into the endless skies haunted his dreams, chasing away sleep. Vega flinched, startled by the sudden movement, shoving her hands behind his back. They looked ready to go to work -- still dressed, glasses still on, hair neater than usual even. The pineapple lamp near her side of the bed was glowing softly. Protag glanced at the alarm clock on their bedside table, whose red blinking numbers informed him it was 2:46 AM. Why would they still be awake at 2:46 AM??
"Vega, love, is anything wrong??"
"...n-no." She lied, too tired to say it with conviction. Anyone could tell it wasn't true. Her boyfriend included. "Babe, were you picking at your skin again??"
They didn't reply, which was a dead giveaway. Protag gently grabbed their wrist and guided their hand into his view. Sure enough, the skin was red, peeling, and bleeding slightly at one knuckle from what he could only assume was hours of anxious skin picking while he slept. He gave the wound a quick kiss, and then kissed the back of their hand softly. "Do you wanna talk about it??"
Not really. Not yet. But he wanted him to know. He wanted comfort. It occurred to him how late it was, and he suddenly felt exhausted. It was all too much for right now. "Can we talk about it in the morning??"
"Of course, my stardust." His boyfriend agreed, wrapping his arms around them. His hand found theirs, and they buried their face in his chest, feeling his breath as they both drifted off to sleep.