My mind wanders a lot at night. The light snores coming from Hanna's bed keeps me occupied for the most part, reminding me that, in a few hours' time, the warm, nestled up bundle of inactivity would turn into a hyperactive, ever-moving streak of pale skin and flaming hair.
I would never admit it, but more often than not, I pass the now cold nights by watching Hanna sleep. It's kind of creepy, I know, and that is exactly why I won't admit it. I'd really rather not make things awkward between myself and my…partner, though I doubt that Hanna would think it weird.
The man would probably feel special for having a 'guardian' or something to watch him while he slept.
A restless shifting broke me out of my mental ramblings. Looking away from the far wall and letting the eerie, orange-ish glow of my eyes wash over Hanna, I cursed inwardly when I saw that the man's face was twisted up in fear or pain.
A noise just short of a whimper slipped out of Hanna's mouth; he was having a nightmare. Ironic, for a paranormal investigator. I sighed, and with a minute's hesitation, placed my hands on the redhead's bare shoulders and shook him gently.
"Hanna, wake up," I said quietly. After another few moments, teary eyes blinked open, and even as the tears leaked down Hanna's face, he smiled and choked out a hoarse, "Hey, Chavez." His smile faltered even before I had a chance to ask him if he was okay.
The glow from my eyes illuminated Hanna's face, and as the tired man turned to feel for his glasses on the floor, his lips brushed against my leather bound thumb. My hands were immediately taken off of Hanna's shoulders, and a moment later, glasses were hiding the majority of the left over tears.
I could very clearly see the reflection of my eyes in the lenses. Leaning away, I sighed and went to rub at my face with my hands. Except, warm digits wrapped around the cold skin of my wrists and stopped the action. There were no more smiles, and a few more tears traced their way down Hanna's cheeks as he pulled himself into a sitting position with a little bit of my help.
"Thanks," he whispered, voice still hoarse. His hands dropped into his lap as his fingers twisted and fidgeted in anxiety, and it was only when he started scratching absentmindedly at his arms did I grasp his hands in mine and pull them towards me.
"Hanna," he didn't respond, but then again, I hadn't expected him to. My grip on his hands loosened until our palms simply rested together, my fingertips brushing lightly against the skin on his wrists. I sighed and then he shuddered, and then he was gone, the bathroom door slipping only halfway shut as the sounds of dry heaving reached my ears.
I sighed again. This was turning out to be an eventful night. I got up and trudged it open all the way. And there, in all his glory, was Hanna, hugging the porcelain god and throwing up whatever was left in his stomach of the dinner I had made him.
I could feel the concern bubbling up in my throat, and even if I couldn't get an answer, I said, "Hanna, are you alright?" He shook his head and muttered something that I couldn't hear, but it was answer enough. I crouched down, and as gently as I could, threaded my fingers through his thick curls to get them out of his face.
"Thank you," he mumbled. I heard it that time. Almost immediately after saying it, he leaned over again and an impossible amount of (mostly) water came out. Once done, he leaned back- bit dangerously far, if you ask me- and groaned when my hand came into contact with his back.
I steadied him with that hand, freeing the other from his fiery locks to push the handle down on the toilet to flush everything away. "Why are you so cold?" he stuttered out, but didn't move away from my touch. A wry smile spread over my face.
"I'm a decade past my expiration date; what's your excuse?" It took him a few moments to get that I made a joke (which, yes, it was kind of rare), and I took the opportunity to move the hand from his back to encircle his narrow hips.
"Upsa-daisy, Hanna," I pulled him up as the belated chuckles wracked his frame; I briefly wondered where these mood swings were coming from. He was quiet again once I had him settled back onto the mattress with a glass of water. No laughter or even a hint of a smile; just a sad little tug near the corners of his mouth that pulled it into a slight frown.
"Hanna," I tried again, "Are you alright?" Shaky hands brought the glass of water up to pale lips, and as he drank, his eyes fluttered shut. Everything was silent as he set the water down on the floor; I was watching his movements turn more unsteady and jerky by the second.
Finally, "I'm okay. Everything's…okay. M'sorry about that," he gestured wildly towards the bathroom door, flinging his glasses off to the floor again and flopping down onto his side. And for a while there, it seemed as if that was that. I picked up a book and got to the second chapter before Hanna caught my attention again.
"Hey, Theo," he whispered, not turning to face me. Theo was a new one, though. I hummed out a reply to show that I was listening. "C'mere," was the only thing he mumbled as he patted the bed behind him. Confused, I tucked an old receipt that was on the floor into my book to hold the page.
I crawled over to him, kneeling on the mattress and placing a hand on his hip. Mostly to steady myself, but also to offer a slight comfort as my curious gaze illuminated his upset features. Instead of saying something, anything, Hanna dropped his hand onto mine and pulled me down so I was lying behind him.
I froze for a moment, I must admit, but after a few seconds, I folded my free arm under my head to act as a pillow and maneuvered the hand that Hanna was clutching up to cover his heart. I could feel the cool metal of a staple beneath his tank-top- I wondered for the umpteenth time what would happen if it were extracted from the pale skin it was embedded in. I wondered if he would fall apart. But then again, doesn't everything? I know I do, but Hanna's always there to stitch me back together again.
I've not a clue where the audacity came from, but I pressed a lingering kiss to Hanna's left shoulder. It seemed to help his trembling, so I rested my forehead there after taking my mouth away. He slowly stilled, his breathing evening out as he slipped back into sleep.
That's when I decided. If Hanna ever fell apart, I would be there to stitch him back together again. I smiled at my mental promise, but decided not to bring it up. Not unless Hanna brought his nightmare up, maybe. But maybe not even then.
I made another mental note to mark the smile on Hanna's chart for him. Maybe that's what I'd do. If he commented on the extra tally under my name, I would tell him everything. Or, maybe, I would just let it be.
My mind wandered even further as I absorbed the warmth of the body sleeping against mine, and I allowed myself to get to the point of so far gone, so spaced out, that I was pretty much sleeping, anyway. Even if I technically couldn't it worked just the same.
And only when the light streaming through the lone window hit Hanna at the right angle and lit his features up, did I stir. 'The definition of beautiful,' I thought. I suppose my mind wanders a lot during the day, too.