Disclaimer: All characters appearing in this work are fictitious; I own nothing but my ideas.
a/n: there aren't enough karneval fics so i'm making another contribution. references to chapter 20: small voices.
Gareki is sorta like a star, Nai smartly concludes as he stares up at the faint lines of wood above him.
It's just like any other night; Gareki's emotions fall through the mattress like snow, coating Nai uncomfortably as a blanket does on a warm day. The sadness, heartbreaking pain, confusion, suffering—all of it—they scare him. Gareki doesn't deserve to feel these things, he should be happy and warm and just Gareki.
There's a soft puff of air and the figure above him shifts ever so slightly. What was it again? Ah, a sigh, Yogi helpfully explained to him (with more or less cuddling and cheek-pinching) the other day, is usually done when people are frustrated, tired, or relieved. Nai's chest tightens (he knows Gareki is anything but relieved) and he grips it, squeezes it and wills it to stop.
It doesn't.
Usually he would go to someone to ask about it, but it's been like this for a while and it's only like this with Gareki. The worst thing that could happen is to find out he's allergic to Gareki and if he had to choose, Nai would rather take his chances then to be taken away from him.
Nai recalls back to the time Tsukumo was taken and he was in the very same position, only this time, Tsukumo is down the hall, tucked safely in bed. The silence is what's the same, along with the small voices, gently brushing the recesses of his mind. He lets out a soft sigh of his own and tries to move closer to Gareki (though it's a bit hard considering he has to move up in order to do so), rustling his blankets and squirming and huffing.
"Nai, what are you doing," a poorly faked, irritated voice mutters as a hand swings over the edge of the bed above, dangling (inviting), "either stop moving yourself or get up here so I can make you."
Before Gareki can even finish his sentence, Nai is already halfway up the ladder, feet barely touching the rungs in his haste. Gareki lifts his covers along with an amused eyebrow and Nai dives in, latching himself to a wrinkled tank top.
Soothing fingers lace themselves through his hair and he opens his red eyes, studying the weary lines of Gareki's face—ones that shouldn't make themselves home on such a face. He reaches out, prodding Gareki's furrowed brow, smoothing away the lines and hesitates for only a moment.
"Gareki is not alone." The said boy blinks once, twice. Then he sees the slight quivering of the other's lip, puppy eyes shining and making him look more kicked as usual. "Everyone loves Gareki…umm, Yogi and Tsukumo…and Hirato, I think. Everyone is family…and Gareki is part of it too so-"
"Of course I'm not alone, idiot. You're here, aren't you?" Gareki roughly coughs out, slinging his arm over his face, which, Nai cleverly notes, is warmer than usual.
Nai rubs at his tearing eyes and smiles, nodding, "Mm," and scoots closer, burying himself in Gareki's warmth.
A light twinkling in the never-ending darkness, like a beautiful, polished jewel, only to be outshone by the sun as day breaks—this is what Gareki is, Nai decides. At the same time, he also realizes that though something is concealed, it doesn't mean it's not there.
(And he makes it his new goal to wash away all of Gareki's pain, so nothing has to be hidden.)