Author's Notes: Back in the writing flow I hope. He he he. Just wanted to do a short Reeve piece for a change. I know. I've done a LOT of Reeve pieces. So sue me. And yes, I've developed a taste for Reeve/Rude. So sue me again.
Theme: Independence
Pillow
Really, it was ridiculous, to hold a grudge against a bed like this. What possible reason could anyone have for disliking a bed after all? It was soft, it was firm, it was really rather nice. It was even king sized, which meant he had a whole lot of room on it all to himself. But therein was the problem. So much room, so much empty room. It never seemed to matter how firm the mattress was, or how tight the blankets in their attempts to keep him still. Every method exhausted in his silly attempts to be rooted in one spot, to get real rest for once. Nothing worked, nothing at all. He was restless and there was nothing he could do about it except forsake his bed at home and sleep instead on the couch in his office. It was more practical anyway seeing as he worked late and got up early to do more work.
Soon even that didn't help though. Sure it was a small space and he couldn't roll much or else he'd end up on the floor, but it wasn't i right. /i It was either too cold at night, or too hot, or too soft, or too hard. Reeve didn't really know, and he didn't much care. The fact of that matter was that he couldn't get to sleep anymore, not even to be plagued by nightmares of Midgar and Deep Ground and all of the pain that seemed to come from him. He even chuckled once or twice at how sad his inner demons must feel now that they couldn't torture him while he slept. Of course at the same time he knew they were winning by the way he couldn't sleep, couldn't think of anything but the mistakes. It was something he could never be free of. He couldn't be mad at the memories though, because he deserved this suffering, no matter how much he wanted to be free of it.
Tonight though, tonight was different. The three year grudge had melted away, and the tossing and turning was long forgotten. Somehow the timid former-executive had stumbled upon the best sleeping pill in the world. It was warm, and strong, and damned if that sculpted torso just didn't make a perfect pillow. Maybe all he'd ever needed from the start was someone there beside him to promise him things would be okay, even if the promise was said only through a tight hold at his waist and fingers stroking up and down his back. And maybe, just maybe, laying here in the arms of the silent Turk was all he had ever needed all along.