A Cure For Insomnia

The sound of city traffic and bustle echoes in my ears, but all I can see is a blurry white wall towering over me. Slowly, my vision sharpens to reveal the barely-visible outline of a door at the base of the giant wall. Every instinct is warning me against approaching, and I would turn and run if I were able, but there's nowhere else to go, and my attempt at retreat just pulls me closer. In an instant, I'm standing barely an arm's length away from the door, close enough to see through the small rectangular window.

I see only a black sheet within, but that's actually comforting versus the pervasive white. Before that thought can completely coalesce, I'm inside the dark room, which has suddenly become familiar. In my mind I know this is the entry hall at Olive Riso, but my heart tells me it's home, safe, and filled with love. The dim sconces flicker, and the bar approaches, or I walk to stand beside it—the distinction seems immaterial. In my hand there's a purse, over my shoulder is a shawl, and as I look down at myself, I appear cloaked in a long, plunge-neck black dress.

Where am I?

The silent question seems to spawn an answer, as Hisao appears beside me, dressed in a black tuxedo with a bow tie, holding out his hand as though offering a dance. In my confused state, I accept without thinking, taking his proffered hand and following him into the dining area, which has become a dance floor. There are shadowy figures lined along the edges of the room as he leads me to the center, but the only light seems to fall directly over us, and we hug closely in the ethereal spotlight, awaiting the music.

A flourish from an unseen piano excites his feet, and he whirls me around, laughing and crooning with the music. How I learned a tango doesn't seem to matter; I'm clearly good at it, and I can hear the hazy crowd cheering, yelling cat-calls, and gasping in delight at our skilled footwork. Twirling and stepping, I feel light and full at the same time, beaming my joy through a bright grin, and swaying in rhythm with the violin. Our pace quickens, and the dance becomes more erotic, our hands running over each other in earnest—as though nobody were watching.

A lover's dance, filled with passion.

After a long dip, and a passionate near-kiss, Hisao disappears into the darkness. Reemerging a moment later, now dressed in white with a rose held in his teeth, the crowd has vanished, and the band has stopped playing, but he continues following the rhythm—swaying rhythmically as he approaches. Right before me, he bows deeply, sweeping the floor with one hand, then rises swiftly to extract the rose. As I stand like a statue, now dressed in white, he circles around me, brushing the petals over my bare arms, then down between my breasts, teasing me, and eliciting warm giggles.

Finally catching me in a stiff embrace, one arm around my waist, the other around my neck, he flits his eyebrows, making me laugh. A second later, he swings me around, dipping me deeply and bringing the rose down between us, his lips caressing mine over the thorny stem. The short kiss ends as I close my eyes, and I feel his hands sweep under me. Lifting me into his arms with one swift motion, he leaves the rose in my teeth and begins carrying me away, to destinations unknown. As I feel myself relax into his warmth—filled with bliss—I smile and sigh.

It's so simple: I love him, that's all there is to it...

With the dream slowly ebbing, I wake to the sound of pattering rain, and the feel of Hisao's tight cotton shirt chafing my skin. It's probably the wee hours of the morning, which I can tell from how dark it is without opening my eyes, but something is missing. A chill wind from the open window accompanies a sudden flash against my eyelids, followed promptly by the rolling rumble of thunder—the storm is close. As I lay here, drawing the blanket up, attempting to fight the chill, I imagine it's possible another lightning strike woke me, but it seems more likely Hisao's apparent retreat caused me to wake.

I doubt he went far...

Lifting my head up slightly, I crack my eyes open and find a strange sight awaiting me between the thin curtains. Through the rain and clouds, the nearly full moon is shining brightly, casting its reflective light down across the silhouetted, rain-soaked treetops, making them glisten behind the thin rainy mist. The moon quickly disappears again behind broiling clouds, and I squint to try and make sense of the sight as it reappears moments later. Thinking it might be a trick of my impaired vision, I grab my glasses off the sill and set them on my nose in time to watch its second disappearance.

I still think I'm imagining things...

As the haze of sleep clears from my eyes, I marvel at the oddity with a detached grin, but a ponderous-sounding sigh draws my attention away, and I turn to find Hisao sitting on the edge of the bed. He seems not to have noticed my movements yet, so I take a moment to inspect his despondent demeanor. With his head bowed, and chin cupped in his laced fingers, he stares absently into the darkness of his room. Although he sometimes gets insomnia because of his medications, I think the slackened bow of his shoulders and tight set of his jaw implies something else is bothering him.

The red numbers on his alarm clock, which he's focused on almost entirely, tell me it's a little after three, but I doubt he's worried about the time exactly. Around me, he tries to put on an air of confidence, but I know he's been obsessing about his trip home ever since he brought up the idea—and probably even before he told me. While he may have seemed casual about packing, he was very specific about everything that went into his suitcase, down to the color of each shirt. Ensuring his parents accept the changes to his life, unintended as they may be, is very important to him, and to me.

I desire their approval, perhaps more than he does...

Reaching over to place a hand on his shoulder, I quietly ask, "Hey... can't sleep?"

Apparently my presence isn't unexpected, or at least hasn't gone unnoticed, as he doesn't even flinch at my touch. "Just my meds again," he claims, turning to force a smile, "Go back to sleep."

After a quick, head-clearing yawn, I shake my head and state, "I don't believe that—not one bit."

My reply makes him shrug and look away for a moment, then he turns back with a wry smirk and claims, "Okay, you got me... your snoring woke me up!"

"I don't snore!" I protest, pouting groggily as I sit up on my knees.

Squinting at me suspiciously, he retorts, "How would you know?"

"You've never complained before~!" I rebut.

"That's because it's so cute!" he says, shattering my sound logic, then looking away again to reiterate, "Seriously, I'm okay... go back to sleep."

Ignoring his request, I slide over and wrap my knees around his waist, then wrap my arms around his and reply, "Not without you... You're worried about something, which means I'm worried about something—namely you."

"I'll be fine," he retorts, but his hands move up to hold mine, almost reflexively.

Hugging him tighter, I nuzzle against his neck for a few moments then turn sideways and rest my deaf ear against his shoulder. "You don't have to tell me what's wrong," I assure him, then sigh and request, "but, I wish you would... you've been there for me, and I want to be there for you."

Bowing his head again, he groans, "I know... I just-"

"Don't want to worry me?" I finish his sentence, then lift my chin up to rest on his shoulder. "Too late for that—you should have put me in a deeper sex-coma~!" I lilt with a giggle, then shake him side to side and quip, "Not that I'm complaining!"

Despite his melancholy, he laughs and lets out some of the tension in his shoulders. Taking that as my cue, I turn to rest my good ear against his back so I can listen to his erratic heartbeat. "Your parents," I whisper, closing my eyes to concentrate on the thrumming, "They love you, y'know—believe me... even when you think they don't..."

I'd almost forgotten that for a while with Mom...

The emotional minefield he'll be walking into will be difficult to navigate, and I don't want to make it harder, at least not right away. That makes telling him about my disease seem like a very bad idea, at least for the foreseeable future; he has enough to consider without hefting my problems on his shoulders. So, in order to ensure his success, I may need to wait until his return before confessing my secrets, but it might be better that way. Although I feel ready, and his worries might be less significant than I'm assuming, the time apart could ultimately make his decision clearer—for better or worse.

I may be deluding myself, but delusions are all I have for now...

Mom's advice about giving myself time comes back to mind, and it provides an excuse, but I don't think I want to wait a whole month; all I need is a week—ten days tops. If he stayed here, we could spend the whole time together, lazing around his room, playing video games, or going at each other like rabbits as Mom so eloquently described, and only leaving our comfortable warren for bathroom breaks and food, not to mention frequent showers—preferably together. My fantasy sounds eerily like a honeymoon, which probably ought to scare me, but I don't think there's anything wrong with that.

I'm getting ahead of myself again...

Nuptial implications aside, the extra week would give me the chance to explain everything, and apologize for keeping it from him. Assuming he can forgive my deception, we would have time to talk it through, figure out whether he's willing to take the risks, and then he could leave on a train next Sunday instead. That way I wouldn't have to spend a month wallowing in guilt, and he would have the whole story to bring home, instead of having to tell them later. Unfortunately, short of a tsunami wiping out the trains, that's not going to happen, so I should concentrate on making the best of the situation.

I'm doing that by tuning myself to the thrum of his heartbeat...

"You'll be fine. It'll be fine," I state, lifting my head away to place a reassuring kiss between his shoulder blades.

After a long sigh and a few moments of silence, his response comes in a barely-audible whisper, "I know..."

"This arrhythmia thing is just a speed-bump—like that fall you took out of that tree," I say, reaching down to pull back his boxers so I can trace my finger over the old scar on his thigh, "It worries them, I'm sure, but, when they see how well you're doing... they'll understand..."

"Rationally..." he whispers, trailing off and sighing as he collects his thoughts. "Rationally, I shouldn't be worried," he continues, squeezing my hands as he speaks, "I'm their only son, I know they love me, and I really have been doing better, especially because of you... it's just-" he stops and shakes his head. After a moment, he leans back and turns to try look at me over his shoulder before finishing, "They expect a lot, y'know... I don't know if I can match up with what they had planned anymore..."

Leaning sideways, I release my grip and peer up over his shoulder to catch his eyes with a smile. Giving him an inquisitive look, I prompt, "Which was?"

"Well, they're both professionals..." he says, trailing off with that narrowed look in his eyes.

He only mentions his parents sparingly, and never told me what they actually do, so I decide to take the opportunity and ask, "What do they do anyway?"

"Well... Mom works as a paralegal at a corporate firm, and Dad runs a small research company—medical research... cancer and such," he explains. As I nod slowly, he turns a curious look at me and adds, "He's the numbers guy, though... not a scientist or a doctor or anything."

His dad sounds a little like mine...

"My Dad was a CPA, remember?"

"Yeah, mine's just a businessman, though—he employs an accounting firm," he remarks, shrugging a little, "I think he used to be an accountant, until he got the chance to start his own business. Your dad probably would have done the same eventually, if he got the chance..." he trails off as I lean away a little, the mention giving me a short-lived frown.

I wonder what Dad would be doing if he were still around...

After a few seconds, he lets out a shocked gasp, "Sorry! I didn't- I wasn't thinking-"

"No, it's okay!" I assure him, renewing my close hold, "You're probably right—Dad was still on his way up when he... started heading down."

"Still, I shouldn't-"

"It's okay, I'm getting better at accepting him being gone," I assure him, offering a pat on his shoulder. "It's getting easier, at least—you've helped with that, actually," I mention, reaffirming my sideways hug, "I don't really know why, but having you around makes me feel better about a lot of things..."

Since I've been seeing Hisao, even long before we became romantically involved, his presence has had a sympathetic effect on my state of mind. In the past couple months, I've been sleeping better, haven't had as many nightmares, I cleaned up my room, eased off my addiction to video games, and even found the courage to put Dad's picture on display. None of that came from any direct prompting, except the picture, though he had influence there, too. Either way, thinking about Hisao has inspired a lot of subtle improvements in my outlook.

I can't rattle off the list without getting specific...

"You help me even when you're not there... if that makes sense?" I say, trying to phrase it in a way that doesn't sound crazy. "If you knew all the little things you've helped me with..." I say, trailing off to kiss his shoulder. "I don't wanna inflate your ego too much, though!"

"Well, if it's worth anything coming from a lowly science geek, I think you'll surpass him—your dad, I mean," he says, aiming a bright grin at me. "You got a perfect score on that calculus exam, right? Without even trying? That takes talent," he compliments, nudging me with his shoulder

"It's not like I didn't study," I protest.

"Well, yeah, but a perfect score?" he reiterates, "I didn't even get a perfect score in science."

"I get it from my dad, I guess," I concede, which makes him shake his head and roll his eyes.

"Well, aptitudes can be hereditary, but genius isn't," he retorts with a victorious smirk, "That brain of yours will take you places, I'm sure. You'll probably be running a conglomerate by the time you're thirty."

His phrasing leads me to cringe for a moment, which he'll probably take as reluctance to agree, rather than any misgivings about my brain. The truth is, he's probably right, at least partially. Since I started applying myself more, after Dad's funeral, my grades have gone up in every subject, and they spiked again when Hisao became part of the picture. If that trend continues, he might be right about my future containing a lot of success, even if it only lasts for a short while. Regardless of the other implications, his praise inspires me to reciprocate with some outlandish claims.

Turnabout is fair play...

"And you'll be a head-researcher at some giant laboratory—your dad's, maybe! Or... something, by then—we'll both be high-powered nerds!" I state, accenting my claim by adjusting my glasses. "While I build an economic empire, you can form a team of dedicated scientists to unlock the secrets of the universe!"

I wonder if he'll research genetic disorders...

"And how, pray-tell, will I get funding?"

"I'll help fund your research with all those billions of yen I'll be making, obviously!" I suggest, tilting my head and winking, "Then, we'll form a syndicate hell-bent on ruling the world from the shadows!"

Smirking sideways, he rebuts, "Kenji might not approve..."

In sinister fashion, I squint my eyes and deepen my voice to suggest, "But... if he could be turned to the dark-side... he could be our greatest general! Joining us on our climb to power, razing the land with his devilish schemes!"

With a curt shake of his head, he balks, "Him joining forces with a woman? Not likely..."

"Then he can be our arch-enemy!" I retort, sending a glare toward the darkened door, "And we'll get Amaya to lead our paramilitary forces—all trained in the deadly arts of aikido—and Tadao to write propaganda articles~! Nothing can stop our sinister brain-trust!"

"Okay, that'll work," he concedes with a chuckle.

Instead of furthering the ridiculous discussion, I hug him a little tighter and sigh to myself with a smile. Even though it's mostly bluster, and it's more likely we'll end up in boring careers working for other people, I almost think fantasies like that might be possible with Hisao around. That might be the best thing about having someone there for support; leaning against him, physically and emotionally, gives me reason to ponder the impossible. They may only be fantasies, and some of them are wholly unlikely, but, with him here, some of them could happen.

I never felt like that with anyone else...

"I know it sounds ridiculous, but..." I trail off and smirk, "Plotting stupid fantasies like this is fun—especially with you."

Nodding he agrees, "It is, isn't it...? My parents will probably like that you dream big."

Nudging his shoulder, I joke, "If you can get past my mom, I'm sure your folks will want to adopt me."

I might be overselling myself...

"That'd make things weird... but, I think they'll like you—they're fond of intelligence," he agrees, nodding at my smile, "and... your mom is cooler than you described."

Him saying that makes me feel like apologizing, "Sorry if I scared you. I thought she'd be less... accepting."

With a knowing smirk, he replies, "Maybe she just finds me charming—you sure seem to."

"That might be it..." I say with an agreeable nod. "But, I think she likes that you make me happy."

"Well, I try," he says, taking a deep breath and blowing it out slowly.

"You're really good at it," I compliment, squeezing his shoulder affectionately. "You make me laugh, help me stay positive, shower me with compliments..." I recount, trailing off as I rest my forehead against his shoulder and start swaying slightly, "and when we're alone you make me feel sexy, and shower me with orgasms... sometimes literally!"

"That was your fault," he protests, but my bright smile stops him from complaining further.

"I'm still a little sticky," I joke, bouncing against him playfully, "but, I take full responsibility for that~!"

I may have gone a little overboard earlier...

"Anyway," I say, getting back on track, "Mom's only concern is that you're treating me right, I think."

"So... you told her about... all this?" he surmises, and I can't help but start to nod.

"Well, not exactly, but kind of..." I trail off and sigh. "I didn't tell her intentionally, but it didn't bother her—like she expected it," I explain, shrugging as my mind wanders toward trying to figure out her reasons again—it's a losing battle. "All that matters is she's being very encouraging, and... I dunno, she seems to think you're good for me—I agree with her!"

"I wish I could get that kind of... encouragement, from my parents," he replies, looking away again.

"Mom said it took her about three seconds after she met you to decide," I recount, shrugging slightly. Patting his shoulder reassuringly, I add, "So, Maybe your mom and dad just need to meet me?"

After a few chuckles, he leans his head back and ponders aloud, "What would they think if I brought you home tomorrow?"

Well, there's an idea...

He goes silent while I take a deep breath, and my thoughts turn inward as I blow out a long sigh. If I went along with him tomorrow, we wouldn't have to separate for the break, I'd get the opportunity to meet his parents, and I could serve as a witness to his improvements. However, even though his parents know he has someone special, they're still getting used to him even having a life-threatening condition, so introducing a serious girlfriend to the equation might just seem reckless. However, hopping on a train to visit him later might make perfect sense.

Instead of staying together initially, I could remain here while he evens things out with his family. In the meantime, I could get reacquainted with Mom and Midori a bit more, see Amaya and Tadao off, and maybe get in some trouble with Yoko. After a week or two, Hisao could give me a call, and I'd head down south to meet his parents, tour his old stomping grounds, and maybe meet some of his old friends. It may be yet another lofty fantasy, but it seems logical. His expression says he's having a similar internal debate, but I'm the first to speak.

"Okay, not that I don't wanna go with you, and I'd love to come visit," I say, prefacing my refusal, "but I don't think it's the best idea to show up with me on your arm tomorrow..."

"Yeah, I was afraid you'd agree with me," he replies, sighing heavily as he stands.

"However, it's only a train-ride away," I mention suggestively, reaching to grasp his hand, "So, once you settle their minds a little, I could-"

"I'd like that," he interjects, nodding briskly. While I offer a loving smile, he backs away and starts shaking his head. My sympathetic expression plainly asks what's else is bothering him, but he shrugs and turns away.

"Just... thinking," he replies quietly, and I bite my lip to stifle a question as he starts pacing slowly near the door.

Deciding not to disturb him further, I settle into a sitting position on the edge of his bed, and listen to rain falling against the window panes. Apart from a few rumbles of thunder and his quiet footfalls, not another sound fills his room as he paces through the darkness. Although I think talking helped a little, his face is still locked in that worried pout, and, based on his forlorn expression, I'm not sure I can say anything to help. Beyond his heart condition and our relationship, I'm sure there are a dozen little issues—secrets he's not ready to share—that he doesn't want to worry me with.

I wish I knew everything else that's bothering him...

Another distant flash seems to answer my silent request, but I'm not one to interpret random weather patterns as signs. Undoubtedly the question of my big secret is on his mind, and might be contributing to his pacing, but I doubt it's even a conscious thought for him right now—he has no idea of its significance. Whatever else is on his mind, it's probably much more tangible, and may have nothing to do with his heart condition, his parents, or me. Whether or not he wants my help, I feel obligated to try, even if all I can do is something simple.

I can at least help him get back to sleep...

Lazily lifting myself up, I slide down to rest against the headboard, and turn a hazy smile at him to request, "Hey, you wanna stop pacing and come over here?" When he doesn't respond right away, I slap the mattress and command, "Hisao! Over here, now!"

His expression is hard to read in the dark, but he apparently decides not to argue. With a shrug, he steps over the mess of wires we left across his carpet, then sits on the edge of the bed and sighs. "Sorry, I'm just... thinking," he says weakly, "and now I'm keeping you up, too..."

"Comes with the territory!" I scoff, patting the mattress next to me again and smirking. "Right along with being your go-to girl for hugs, kisses, and mind-blowing sex," I remark with a dirty smirk, "I'm also your sympathetic ear, worry-board, nurse, and right now," I reach over and grab his hand, "a human sleeping pill."

"What are you planning?" he inquires with some interest.

I wonder what he thinks I'm planning...

Holding my arms out, I smirk seductively and reply, "C'mere and find out...!"

Apparently still suspicious of my motives, he approaches cautiously, but I'm not giving anything away. "Lay down," I suggest, nodding toward the spot beside me. He turns and lies against the headboard, then offers a raised eyebrow as I grab his shoulder and start pulling him closer. "Don't be afraid," I say with a warm giggle, nodding down at my chest, "you can use these as a pillow—no biting!"

Complying with my request, he rests his head against my breast and I wrap my arms around his head and shoulders. "How will this help me sleep?" he asks, and I giggle lightly at his muffled voice.

"Isn't it nice and warm?" I retort, and he nods, which causes his ear to brush against a nipple. Stifling my reaction with a sharp breath, I say soothingly, "Just relax... listen to my heartbeat... and clear your mind..."

Luring him into this position is partly because it should help him relax, but it's also a good memory I feel like sharing. Realizing I'll have to reveal something about myself that I've kept for a while, I hesitate to explain, but I have more than one reason to tell Hisao why this is important.

Realizing he'll need some context, I inquire, "You remember I said Dad was amazing, right?"

"Sure," he replies sleepily.

I guess it's working faster than expected...

"This is one of the reasons why," I say, bowing down to kiss the top of his head, "He used to hold me like this when I had trouble sleeping... when I had nightmares, after my accident."

"I assume you were the one down here?" he questions, sounding a little more alert.

Giggling, I nod and answer, "His chest wasn't as soft, though."

My comment makes him nod again, which results in more nipple-brushing, but it makes me giggle instead of feel aroused. Slowly, he relaxes into the position; his legs bend up and he nestles along my side, he wraps his hands across my waist and around my back, and I can feel him leaning more heavily against my side. For a few minutes, he just lays there, and I can feel his slowing breaths even through the shirt. While I'm not really sure what gave me the idea to cradle him like this, I just want him to feel comfortable and stop worrying, though I may have inadvertently given him another concern.

"You never mentioned the accident gave you nightmares," he remarks, and I sigh, knowing I need to explain further.

I somehow find his interest comforting, though...

"For years, yeah... bad ones. I nearly drowned, after all... I wouldn't go near water for a year after that, either..." I reply, shrugging as I trail off and notice his hand start to rub against my side.

"I find that hard to believe," he says, which is totally understandable.

"Dad helped with that, too," I recount, smiling at the memory. "And..." I trail off, taking a moment to steel myself before admitting, "I still get them sometimes..." My admission causes him to sit up and look into my eyes to offer silent support, but, somehow, I'm not feeling sad.

I just feel lighter for some reason...

"Anyway, that's why I get insomnia sometimes," I say, finding myself smiling.

"I'm sorry," he says, but I'm starting to shake my head.

"Don't be—it's not your fault... and, besides, they're one of the things you fight back," I say, smiling as he furrows his brow. "You're like a dream-catcher," I explain, squeezing his shoulder as I smile and nod, "whenever I dream now, it's about you instead... dancing, swimming, playing games... or-"

"Aiko, you're crying," he remarks, and I squint, which sends a tear down my cheek.

I still don't feel sad, though...

"Happy tears, maybe?" I remark questioningly, reaching up to wipe away the evidence. "Anyway, I haven't had a bad dream in... weeks, at least—not since before we went to the beach," I explain with a smile, "I've wanted to tell you for a while..."

"Is this what you were afraid to tell me?" he asks, and I close my eyes.

I should have expected that...

"No," I squeak, trying to maintain my composure, "but it's... related..."

For a few moments I can feel his eyes on me, and it seems like he's trying to coax a further explanation, but I'm shaking my head. Of all the ways I considered broaching this topic, stumbling over it accidentally is probably the worst, and this isn't a good time. As I reopen my eyes, the expression he offers is surprisingly neutral, which helps me to regain control of myself. The joyful tears threaten to turn fearful, but not because I'm afraid of revealing my secrets. Instead, I'm scared of what he might do if I answer his question fully; I won't be responsible for him skipping the trip home.

I can't tell him while he's still worried about that...

Leveling my eyes on his, I take a deep breath and let it out slowly. "You trust me?" I ask, and he nods.

"Of course," he replies, reaching up to brush my cheek, "I love you."

Reaching out, I hug around his neck and gently pull him down, aiming him toward my chest—I'm sure he won't protest much. He complies slowly, but my determined expression tells him to relent, and he shrugs. Once he's settled down again, I hug him warmly and nuzzle against his ear, while he reaffirms his hug around my waist. For a few moments, I just listen to his breathing, trying to figure out how I can deflect his question without making him too suspicious. Unfortunately, all I can think is that it's more important he knows I'm not hiding it for my sake anymore—it's about him, now.

"I love you, too," I say, smiling as he starts nuzzling against my left breast, "and I want to tell you everything..."

As I trail off, he reaches up to grasp my hand and surmises, "But, not yet?"

"Not before you even things out at home," I clarify, sniffling and pressing his hand against my cheek.

Starting to turn up, he says, "I could stay here for a while-"

"No! You need to go home," I scold, pressing him back down and resting my chin on his head to keep him there. "I'll still be here in a few weeks, or I can take a train out and visit once you're settled... but... my problems can wait."

As I hold him close, I want to add that he'll need their support with what I have to tell him, but I worry he'll get too curious if I imply it's that big of an issue. While he's thinking, I start rubbing his head, rustling his hair, and cooing softly, which turns into humming. The random sounds start to form into a song like a lullaby, and I can feel him relaxing as the vibrations from my larynx seem to resonate through him. Tilting my head to the side, I look down and notice his eyes are closed, and there's a flat smile on his face; it isn't quite the comfort I'm hoping he'll find, but it's close.

"Your problems are my problems," he mumbles, and I smile.

I guess Mom was right; he wants to help...

"But," he adds, opening his eyes to look up at me with a furrowed brow, "I don't understand why you can't say-"

"Because you have enough to worry about," I interrupt, wiggling a little so his chin rests between my breasts. "Your parents, your old friends, and whoever else you're going back there to see," I say, leaning down to kiss his head softly. "You might worry about it anyway, but if I told you... you might not go at all, and I can't be responsible for that..."

His voice is fading to a whisper as he replies, "You could come with-"

"Not yet," I refuse sweetly, leaning my head back and turning to look out at the clouded moon. "Maybe in a week or two—I wanna meet your mom and dad," I reiterate, looking back down to see his lazy smile before adding, "turnabout is fair play, after all, and then-"

"You can..." he mumbles, and I smile as I realize he's barely conscious. Instead of continuing to explain, I sink down slowly against the pillow and reach up to brush his cheek. He flinches against my hand, and grumbles something incoherently, but otherwise doesn't react.

I guess Dad's sleeper-hug isn't only effective on his frightened daughter...

As he's drifting into slumber, I feel myself starting to relax, and I turn onto my side to face him. With his head still cradled in my chest, I can't move too much without disturbing him, but I don't have to go far before I find a comfortable position with my knees against his thighs, and my arms around his shoulders. Staring down at his peaceful, boyish grin, I let my eyes close, feeling happy for having told him about being my dream-catcher—it's a start. Even though I still have more to reveal, I've never told anyone about my nightmares, and I keep that peaceful thought in mind as I fall back to sleep.

I'm looking forward to another fantasy tango...