🐏Counting Sleep
| { [ ( a post-coma cccclinic short story ) ] } |
for character references, visit here
please do not tag this as a ship
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big, white, heavy eyes
beaming straight into my skull
my ribs start to burn
gasping awake as if empty, a heartbeat rages in his ribs. it’s dark. everything’s so dark.
hands fumble for the bedside lamp while eyes dash about the darkness. any shape perceived as a threat. light bursts from the lamp to reveal a pile of laundry and a coat on the door hook. the relief is overwhelming.
noa wheezes, leaning back before falling to the pillow. a hand at his forehead with the other at his chest. he’s calming down now. breathing proper again. eyes daring to close.
those big, white, and heavy eyes flick into existence behind his eyelids. shivering breaths and tremors overtake his entire figure. the nightmare lingered prominent in his mind, overbearing and overwhelming. any attempt to close his eyes or block it out was met with those masked eyes.
it wasn’t apart of leo now. but that thing—that thing still haunted him. it hurt so much. why did it still hurt so much??
panic and anxiety coursed through his pulse. he hugged himself tight in the sheets. but repressing the visage with pressure was no use. the thick blanket now encompassing him blocked out the lamp’s light. tears crawled into and out of his eyes as air became sparse under the blanket.
he couldn’t do this by himself.
noa unveiled himself to the world, gaze tearing across the dark corners of his room. simon’s desk was bare and tidy, and the night stood silent except for his panic. noa took a deep breath and thought. moments passed. enveloped in twisting anxiety while trying to calm it. although paying attention to it felt worse. he couldn’t help bringing his knees close to him as his entire body shivered. systems shellshocked. the fabric of his drapey pjs promised comfort: the blue with leopard spots felt mangled but fluffy. noa’s eyes lit up when resolve strummed his core. conclusion. a big inhale got him moving again. a decision to go and made in the moment.
the floor was cold under thick socks. neat and sturdy. beamed with smooth wood. panic screamed doubt under every movement. painfully holding him back. yet he got up.
noa made it to the door alive. gripping the steel reflecting his lamp’s light with sweaty palms. turning it flung open to reveal a dark hallway. a lump of fear nearly blocked his throat. yet he pushed on. tunnel visioned and unsure of his every step—this could be his grave. the strumming resolve dimmed inside him, and the next step faltered.
down the hall. to the left. former study. dove’s room.
each further stride could only be taken with the thought of the pale purple walls. the blankets of fluff dove encased themself in. how they held his hand while noa told them all a story. wetness pierced his vision again but he steadied himself with a breath.
everything lasted forever in the darkness pressing in on his body. suffocating beyond end. he functionally stumbled to the door, croaking it open with swiftness. the creak made him flinch.
a gasp resounded in further darkness revealed by the door. a scared and tired sound. then silence. forced silence made when the hunted percieves a threat.
/d-don’t worry. it’s me, w-whole. noa. hi. i-…sorry. c-can i…?/
dove sighed thankfully, shifting in their bed before patting a spot in the darkness. had they already been awake? noa picked his way across the room, begging his eyes to adjust faster. shapes glared from every corner, yet he remained pulled toward the bed. something sharp met his knee and he gasped through his teeth. dove held out a hand and noa took it. he let it guide him to the bed. sighing with a quiver, he shook and massaged his aching knee. dove reached for it but noa flinched aback. they reflected the flinch, headwings subtly puffing. startled. confused. frightened?
/i-i….i…..i’m sorry. i th-think it was the…tablesomething./
noa sighed, frazzled. he let dove feel his knee.
/no blood. i-i just…i had a nightmare. i…/
the lump in his throat choked him up at last. rivers bled from his face like hungry snakes.
dove shifted, then held him.
moment after moment. precious seconds of comfort.
reassurance gathered as they rocked from side to side.
massaging and warming. releasing tension.
finding relief in the finality of peace.
hearing dove breathe comforted him. he settled and sighed. sleepy.
it was too dark to sign anything, and words couldn’t escape noa’s throat without bringing on tears. so no one spoke. it stayed silent, peaceful, calm, and serene.
dove pulled back from the backrub, gently smiling while wiping a tear away from noa’s face. dove then scooted and patted the bed beside them, offering him to stay and perhaps (platonically) snuggle. a shiver snuck up noa’s spine in the cold darkness, and he succumbed to the idea of comfort.
noa lay weakly, and dove tucked him in. pulling a blanket from the basket and using their fingertips to tuck it under his sides. effectively burritoing him. dove rummaged around for a loose sleeping eyemask, and handed it to noa. he took it and sighed, looking at it with adjusted eyes. it was soft and sheep-like, with a closed-eyes decal and sheep ears on the front. brought him a smile as he put it on.
the world fuzzed out. not seeing felt so…peaceful. something stepped off of his chest and shoulders as comforting darkness slid over his eyes. no more veiny red. no more piercing masked eyes. it was so soft.
noa found dove’s hand when they’d settled in, wings and hair drooping across the pillows. heartbeats steady and tired. exhausted by the fuss panic and confusion brought. a throat burning with the aftermath of agony, another ineffective but and soundless. two hands within the other’s grasp. physically separate, but unified with comfort. dove shuffled into sleep. noa pensively pondered the cause for this twilight anxiety.
the nightmare’s memory was recalled from his head. it was…a feeling. overfilled to the point of waking him up. that…thing. that entity of perfect existence still haunted him. that idealism. that torment. that want to never worry about his health again. it was reasonable, really. a manifestation of struggle and self-loathing. a hate bent to unstitch his sinew. tear him open. noa understood where it came from: a cavity in his body that held onto the past, and the sights that came with it. the stuckness and fear. the mistrust and toxicity.
that wasn’t who leo was anymore. leo had been burdened by the anxiety that noa manifested within him. gave to him. projected. noa had separated himself from his feelings so wholly that it grew beyond his control. become something and someone else entirely. yet when the universe of emotions in his head tested him, he perservered. he recovered. he was better now—they all were. he understood himself. challenges like that can be overcome. and if he could jump that strange, near-supernatural horror hurdle, then who knows what he couldn’t do.
noa finally fell asleep tucked in by dove and weakly grasping their hand. calmly counting breath like sheep.
