AN:- Okay, this is pretty much just drivel that I wrote at four in the morning- funnily enough because I hadn't slept for 36 hours. Still, worth the effort, I suppose, seeing as I woke up next morning at my desk with the computer still on and the story half finished.

Soppy but bear with me.

Disclaimer:- Well don't look at me, it's not mine.


Insomnia.

Insomnia is a medically recognised condition. A person suffering from insomnia experiences lapses of memory, periods of time when they are unaware the world around them, but may continue to function in every day life.

At least that's what it says in the medical book. Bollocks to that. When you have insomnia, you are constantly aware of the fact that you are tired, and that you want to sleep, but something just keeps pulling you back from the brink, insisting on making you stay awake just a little bit longer, seeing how far you can go before you crack.

You are never fully asleep. You are never fully awake either. You're just existing.

Which I suppose is what I'm doing now. Outside, the sky is a kind of dark grungy teal colour, halfway between black and navy blue, but just not quite there. The bedroom is pallid and washed of any light, grey shadows cast over more grey. I lie in bed with my hands clasped behind my head, staring at the ceiling.

This, is hell.

Next to me, I hear a quiet sigh, and glance over to see Regan turn over in her sleep. Lucky. She fell asleep about three hours ago. Her face is pale and serene and her eyelids flicker slightly as she dreams, two translucent butterflies resting on her irises. Sealing her away from the world.

I feel a pang of jealousy. It doesn't last long, though. It's agony. I wouldn't dream of putting Regan through this.

Pardon the pun.

Sighing heavily, I turn to look at the clock. The display glows red, the only source of colour in the washed out half light. 3:45am. I went to bed three and a half hours ago. I have to be up in two and a half hours.

This is torture.

I shift around in an attempt to get more comfortable. The bed springs jolt violently and I cringe as Regan groans and rolls over onto her back. Blinking woozily, she yawns and rubs her eyes.

"Sorry," I whisper. Guilt floods through me as I watch her rub her bleary eyes. I didn't mean to make her wake up.

"What time is it?" She asks, her voice thick with sleep.

"Early" I reply softly. "Go back to sleep."

She looks at me and half smiles, then frowns.

"You're still awake?" She asks. I nod sullenly. Regan sighs and throws the bed covers off herself, swinging her legs out over the edge of the bed and stumbling out of our room. Another fresh wave of guilt floods over me as I watch her stumble groggily out onto the landing. I hear the extractor fan come on as she switches the bathroom light on, and the sound of her rummaging in the bathroom cabinet. The extractor fan dies again and her footsteps recede into the gloom of the flat.

The pipes gurgle as the taps run somewhere in the building, and Regan comes back a moment later with two little white pills and a glass of water.

"Here," she murmurs, handing the precious bounty to me. "Industrial strength horse tranquillisers. Top shelf, blue bottle. Second from the left."

She clambers over me and drops back onto the mattress, pulling the covers over herself. She looks so beautiful as she snuggles back down, settling herself, that it's all I can do to stop myself from falling on her. It takes an incredible amount of self control. I pop the little pills into my mouth and take a gulp of water to wash them down, then place the glass on the bedside table next to the clock and settle back down into bed.

Cold skin presses against my leg and I gasp in surprise. Regan giggles. I yank my self away and roll up in the bedclothes.

"Don't do that," she moans, tugging at the covers. "I've got cold feet."

"I'm not a hot water bottle, Regan," I point out. Her feet slide under the duvet and brush against my stomach.

"Regan!" I yelp, twisting myself up tighter in the sheets. She sighs frustrated, but relents.

"Alright, alright, just let me back under the covers."

I roll back over and lift up the edge of the sheet like the mouth of a soft, warm cave. Cold air rushes in as Regan wriggles under and makes herself comfortable, looping one arm over my torso, her hand reaching up to the longer dark hair near the base of my skull, running her fingers through it. She rests her head on my chest, just above my heart and I wrap my arms around her, kissing the top of her head.

And miraculously, I yawn.

I feel Regan smile against my skin, as she twiddles my hair around her fingers. My eyes begin to feel heavy and as my muscles relax, they droop.

"Night, Kai," she yawns, and a moment later she's asleep. I smile and run my fingers up and down her arm, caressing her skin. Her long eyelashes flicker against my bare chest and I yawn again.

"Night," I reply quietly as I make myself more comfortable and close my eyes. Smiling to myself, I give Regan a little squeeze, then relax my grip. My arms loop over her loosely, my fingers trailing along her skin. Then a hazy calm overwhelms me and finally, after weeks of misery, I feel peaceful, contented. And with this last thought, I fall asleep.

Insomnia is a medically recognised condition. A person suffering from insomnia experiences lapses of memory, periods of time when they are unaware the world around them, but may continue to function in every day life. There are no recognised cures for insomnia, except one that I can think of.

Comfort. You can't sleep until you are fully comfortable, or so I figure. And what's more comfortable than being loved and looked after by the person who means everything to you? The only cure for insomnia, is contentment.

Not a couple of Tic-Tacs masquerading as sleeping pills.

Fin.


Sorry. Random, I know. I'll stop. R&R, please.