Day 18: "Endless Nights"
Whumptober 2024 Prompt: Insomnia
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Yuta Okkotsu stared at the ceiling of his dorm room, his eyes wide open and bloodshot. The moonlight filtered in through the curtains, casting pale shadows across the walls, but it did nothing to soothe the restlessness gnawing at his chest. His mind buzzed, thoughts darting from one worry to the next with no clear direction, leaving him tangled in a web of anxiety and exhaustion.
It had been days—maybe weeks—since he'd slept properly. Every time he closed his eyes, the images of cursed spirits, battles, and the weight of responsibility bore down on him. He had tried everything—breathing exercises, relaxing his body, even forcing himself to stay still—but nothing worked. The second his mind wandered, the familiar surge of fear gripped him.
Tonight was no different.
Yuta turned onto his side with a frustrated sigh, his back aching from the constant shifting. His phone buzzed on the bedside table, but he ignored it. He didn't want to bother anyone with his sleepless nights—especially not Inumaki. Inumaki had enough to deal with, and the last thing Yuta wanted was to add more stress.
But another buzz, then a third one, forced Yuta's hand.
He reached for his phone and saw a text from Inumaki.
"Salmon?"
A simple word, but it was filled with concern. Inumaki's texts had always been short and cryptic, his limited speech holding meaning only those close to him could understand. And right now, Yuta knew it was Inumaki's way of asking if he was okay.
Yuta stared at the screen, his fingers hovering over the keyboard. Should he tell him? Should he admit that the sleepless nights were getting to him?
Before he could respond, a soft knock echoed through the quiet room. Yuta sat up, surprised, and went to the door. When he opened it, there stood Inumaki, dressed in his usual oversized hoodie, his expression unreadable but his eyes filled with quiet worry.
"Tuna Mayo," Inumaki said, his tone low as he stepped inside the room without waiting for an invitation.
Yuta smiled despite himself. He should've known that Inumaki wouldn't wait for a text response when he could sense something was wrong.
"I'm fine, really," Yuta began, but the way Inumaki crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow made it clear he didn't believe him.
Inumaki sat down on the bed, motioning for Yuta to join him. Reluctantly, Yuta sat beside him, the weight of the sleepless nights heavier now that Inumaki was here, seeing him in this state. His head was pounding, his body aching with fatigue, but the moment felt lighter somehow with Inumaki next to him.
"…It's just… I can't sleep," Yuta admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. He hesitated, feeling the vulnerability seep in. "Every time I try, I get caught up in everything—everything we've been through, everything we're still facing. And I just… can't turn it off."
Inumaki nodded, his gaze soft as he reached out, his hand finding Yuta's and giving it a gentle squeeze. It was such a simple gesture, but it sent warmth through Yuta's chest, grounding him in a way that words couldn't.
"Salmon," Inumaki whispered, his thumb brushing over the back of Yuta's hand, his touch soothing. The meaning was clear: It's okay. I'm here.
Yuta sighed, letting his head fall against Inumaki's shoulder. The exhaustion weighed him down, making it hard to stay upright, but for the first time in days, he didn't feel alone in it.
Inumaki shifted slightly, wrapping an arm around Yuta's shoulders and pulling him closer. His presence was steady, a quiet comfort that Yuta had come to rely on over time. Inumaki rarely spoke—his cursed speech making even the smallest words dangerous—but he didn't need to. His actions spoke volumes, offering support in the most subtle ways.
They sat in silence for a while, the rhythmic sound of Inumaki's breathing filling the room. Yuta closed his eyes, not to sleep, but to bask in the calm that Inumaki brought. It was the first time in a long time that Yuta had felt at ease.
"Thank you," Yuta whispered, his voice thick with exhaustion and emotion. He wasn't sure if he meant for coming, for understanding, or for just being there when Yuta needed him the most. Maybe it was all of it.
Inumaki nodded again, his fingers gently playing with the ends of Yuta's hair as if to remind him that he wasn't alone.
"Sleep?" Inumaki asked, his voice barely above a murmur, the single word carrying a weight of care.
Yuta shook his head. "I'll try. But it's… hard."
Inumaki didn't push him. Instead, he tugged Yuta down onto the bed, guiding him to lie down. Yuta complied, letting his head rest on Inumaki's lap, the warmth of his presence lulling him into a state of calm he hadn't felt in days. Inumaki's fingers continued their soothing motions, brushing through Yuta's hair, a silent promise of comfort.
Yuta let out a breath he didn't realize he had been holding, his body relaxing into the softness of the bed, into the warmth of Inumaki's touch. He didn't expect to sleep—not really—but this… this was enough for now.
Inumaki stayed quiet, his eyes focused on Yuta, his thumb tracing gentle patterns against Yuta's scalp. He wasn't going to leave him, not until Yuta had the rest he needed. It didn't matter how long it took. He'd stay.
And for the first time in what felt like forever, Yuta felt like maybe he could finally let go, just for a little while.
