The aftermath of Klug's possession takes a strenuous toll on his body. Another aimless, sleepless night brings him into Sig's arms. Requested by a tumblr anon using the prompt "Holding their hands when they are shaking" from a 50 Wordless Ways To Say I Love You writing prompt list i reblogged!

Through the Long Nights to Come

Insomnia claimed him. Shadows marred the underside of his eyes as if a painter carelessly smeared them on the canvas of his face. His sclera was puffy, hints of red circling them and becoming more prominent as the sleepless days continued. If an outsider from another world looked upon him, they might have described him as "sallow" after a quick glance before moving on, not bothering to help him as he staggered down a path late a night.

Klug knew he should have been sleeping. His body craved it. Every atom of his being entreated him for rest, but his mind refused to comply. Sleeping meant giving up control. It granted someone the opportunity to utilize his body for reasons bigger than his dreams. Even if it was a ludicrous thought or even a delusion in the careless mind of another Primp Town resident, Klug forced himself to stay awake.

It was the fourth day of a sleepless nightmare. Existing and relishing in his own body, Klug ambled aimlessly in the night. The tome was tucked underneath his arm, oddly quiet. The spirit had been so chatty before, but now, it was rendered silent, as if speechless or had nothing to say while Klug stumbled over nothing.

But the spirit could have been plotting, and Klug was not going to surrender his body to them again. Although he had to gather certain items for the possession to take place, the fear still lingered. Being trapped in the tome as nothing but a weeping soul, he had tried playing it off with laughter and sneers. It had fooled Amitie and Lemres when he had been freed, but he could only trick himself for so long.

The first night had been fine. He had simply read by candlelight. The second night had worn him down. His face had suffered, and exhaustion overtook him like a wave. But as he ambled down the road lined with cottages, the third night felt eternal. His legs moved forward as if on auto pilot. His brain commanded them, right, left, right, left, and on he went with his eyelids threatening to slam shut, his body wanting nothing more than to careen into a door, window, or potted plant to knock unconsciousness into him.

Why was he walking around after midnight? With the stars blinking above him and the moon bathing him, Klug was not entirely sure. He couldn't stand another moment doing his homework, but he refused to slip under the sheets. He did not care if the spirit thought he was as mad as a hatter for forcing himself to stay; so long as his body was his own, Klug stopped caring.

The fireflies swarmed above his head and guided him to nowhere. He walked through Primp Town with their buzzing in his ears. It was much more pleasing than listening to his half-phrased thoughts. He watched the bugs with half-lidded wonder, subconsciously counting twenty orange dots fluttering above his head as he marched on.

When he refocused his eyes, he found himself in a field. Tall grass tickled his knees. Dandelions rose and swayed in the wind. His body wanted to be like those weeds, leaning to the left, but a shiver shot up his spine. He sucked down a breath, shuddering, feeling like his heart would jump out of his throat. His blood ran cold, and his skin tingled, his fingers twitching, the spine of his tome frigid to touch, but it all happened so suddenly that his mind could not comprehend the fatigue tormenting his body, all self-inflicted from days of worrying.

"Glasses."

The clipped voice cut through the blood pounding in his ears. He trembled, his shoulders quaking as he stared through the trees, not entirely sure where he was. Whether it was deep within the Forest of Nahe or some grassy hill outside of town, he did not care, not when he was aware of the scarlet hand landing on his forearm. Strong fingers wrapped around his coat, tugging gently before they slid around him, his shivering continuing despite the warmth emanating from that hand.

Klug did not know if it was the fireflies which had drawn him to Sig. Perhaps they had led him up the path to Sig sensing his physical deterioration. But as he shuddered, his teeth chattering without reason, he didn't care and pushed his racing thoughts to the back of his mind, bowing his head before the other boy.

Sig hummed, a monotonous sound which cut through the insects' buzzing. He slid his fingers down Klug's arm, feeling the goosebumps under the sleek cloth of his coat. Taking his hand, Sig squeezed it and said, "No need to worry. It won't happen again, 'kay?"

A part of him wanted to laugh. Sig hadn't shown any concern towards his well-being when he was possessed, nor did he express his relief that Klug was fine in the aftermath. All he had done was follow that childish prince like a dog being pulled by its leash on an asinine journey.

But perhaps he hadn't understood the severity of Klug's fear until it was presented to him front and center. The quaking in his shoes, the paleness of his skin, the tears filling his eyes and threatening to spill out, it was spelled out for Sig.

And he understood.

"It's gonna be okay," Sig said, pressing his thumb on Klug's knuckles. "S'not gonna happen again. It won't."

Words bubbled in his belly. Ridicule rose up his esophagus like bile, but he swallowed it back. His ears did not want to hear those kind words, his pride and morality refusing them. He had been awful, choosing power over rationality, his body suffering in the process, but they both knew he needed that reassurance as tears began dribbling down his faintly graying cheeks.

"You'll be okay, Klug," Sig murmured, and Klug buried his face in the crook of Sig's neck, finally closing his eyes and accepting that he found safety in his arms.