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“… Mind? Are you awake?”
Mind heard Heart’s quiet voice from across his room. He sat up and fumbled for the light switch by his bedside. He squinted in the bright light that filled the room, staring at the shadow in his doorway with a furrowed brow and narrowed eyes. “… What the hell do you want?”
He flinched in the harsh light, his headwings quickly drawing back to cover his eyes. He stared down at the ground as he spoke. His posture displayed a meekness – a genuine vulnerability, seeming to Mind to be without ulterior motive or ill intent. When he spoke, it was hardly a whisper – rather, it sounded like… a murmur, worded like a confession, instead. “… I can’t sleep.”
“Hmm.” He raised an eyebrow. “And how is that my problem?”
His expression scrunched and his crossed arms curled closer around himself. “I- hmmph.” His voice caught on itself, and his knuckles curled around the loose fabric of sleeves. “I-I had a nightmare. And I didn’t want to be alone.”
Mind examined his words internally. He wasn’t a stranger to Heart’s poorer nights – he’d been rattled more than once when Heart woke up screaming across the hall or pacing through the house at inordinate hours of the night.
It was the truth of their existence that Heart remembered something that Soul and Mind did not. – some calamity that befell them before they’d been fragmented down into three. He couldn’t fathom what it could have been – he had theories, but Heart had never exactly been favorable to confirming or denying any of it.
What an understatement – what he really meant, was that any attempt at prying the memory out of him was met with at best a stiff silence and at worst a shouting match that inevitably escalated into a shoving match and Juno not being seen outside his room for days or more. All of which to say it was deeply unusual that he would come to him now, for- what, exactly?
Now, he hadn’t heard any screaming that night, but looking at Heart, he could see the tear marks on his cheeks – and the more he looked, the more he realized that he was quivering. It was mostly in his shoulders, but he could see it in his bottom lip as well. His jaw was clenched and his lips curled into what looked like- embarrassment?
His brow softened minutely as it dawned on him that Heart hated this. He could see it all over him – fear from the previously mentioned nightmare, yes, but anger as well, the kind of anger one observes in a prey animal backed into a corner, or at least that’s how Heart seemed to feel about this whole situation. It seemed to have been a difficult decision to come to Mind like this – it must have been quite a dream, for him to let his fear overpower his pride.
He thought about what he’d do next. “So, what?” he said. “You wanted to stay in here?”
He grimaced, hesitated, and finally nodded. “Mhm.”
He huffed, shifting over and laying back down, and patted the newly empty side of his bed.
Heart stood still for a moment more, before shuffling over and gingerly sitting down beside Mind. He glanced back at him before discarding his sweatshirt, rolling his shoulder blades to loosen his now-exposed wings.
Something twisted in Mind’s stomach as he looked at him, his slight frame, his exposed arms, the curve of his clavicle peeking out from the collar of his shirt. His wings looked soft, in complete disarray but no less plush, and something in him wondered how it would feel to run his hands through them and smooth them out again. Heart never took good care of himself – someone really ought to take matters into their own hands and clean him up themselves. Just to straighten him up a bit. He’d get feathers everywhere otherwise.
Both sides of the situation played in his head, feeling nearly as if they sprung up on their own volition. In one half, there was softness beneath his hands, the delicate rustle of shed feathers falling away and the newer, healthy ones smoothed and shimmering in the moonlight.
He kept staring. The other half of the thought was a mess – disarray, discomfort for both of them. The sight of such- no, not beautiful, that wasn’t what he’d call him- such impressive wings, being kept in such disarray – and God knows how far the feathers would get in his room. All stuck in corners, under surfaces they shouldn’t be under, on the floor already, caught in his sheets-
All of a sudden his expression twisted and he sat up. “Jesus Christ, let me- your wings are a fucking mess.” He reached out towards him and placed a hand on one of them – though the touch was short lived, as Heart cringed away, nearly jumping out of the bed at the contact.
He gasped. “What the hell was that?” he hissed, his shoulders square and his lips curled into a sneer as he looked back over him over his shoulder.
A pang of- guilt? Guilt shot through him, and he drew his hand back. “What?” He crossed his arms and grimaced. “You’re going to get feathers everywhere if one of us doesn’t do this, and it’s sure as hell not going to be you.” He rapped his fingers on his upper arm. “You can at least let me do it. It can’t be comfortable having them like that.”
He couldn’t see Heart’s eyes from beneath his face wings, but he could feel his stare through them even so. “… Since when do you give a damn?”
“Since you came into my room unannounced,” he said irately. “Believe me, I couldn’t care less how you keep yourself in your own space, but you’re in here now, and that means I’m not letting you get feathers all over the fucking place.”
He huffed. Even still, his shoulders slumped, and he turned his gaze back down to the floor. “… Sure.” He paused for a moment, and then shifted back closer to Mind. “Whatever. Go ahead.”
His brow furrowed and he reached out to make a first pass through the outer layer of feathers. He heard Heart let out a shaky exhale as he worked through his primaries, starting at the base of each feather and carefully smoothing them down to the tip with lightly grasped fingers. They really were softer than they looked, though there were some gaps in odd places where he’d expect a feather to be.
“What happened here?” He fingered the base of a missing feather. “You’re not sick, are you?”
He cringed as he said it, and Mind felt another hard-to-place pang seeing his expression twist. “No,” he muttered. “I just- I pull at them sometimes.”
“That sounds painful,” he replied, continuing to smooth out his wings.
He squirmed, but he didn’t say anything more in response.
He worked through the rest of his wings, moving closer to the center of his back. He ignored the warmth underneath his hands, and he ignored the proximity of the man in front of him. If he moved any closer, he’d be pressed against Mind, he realized – that didn’t bother him at all, though. He was close, sure, and he might not have ever been this close before without trying to put his fist in his eye (or the other way around, he supposed, though that was obviously different) – but it wasn’t like the closeness was a problem. It was fine, it was neutral, and he had no desire to be any closer.
He just couldn’t give a damn. He didn’t want to pull him against his chest, and he didn’t want to press his face into his shoulder – he knew he always smelled like lavender up close, right? He didn’t care about that either. It was more irritating than anything that he knew the smell would be all over that side of his bed in the morning.
He combed through Heart’s secondary feathers and felt the tension gradually leave him. He didn’t care about his nightmare – he’d never know what it even was that he dreamed about. He would never ask, and Heart would never tell.
“Mh.” Heart shifted, and Mind heard his voice briefly catch on itself when his hand brush against his bare skin. “Ah-”
He stiffened up. “Are you okay?”
“N-no, you’re taking forever,” he murmured. “And your hands are cold.”
“Do you want me to stop…?”
“No, uh, no, you said you’d do it…” He shifted. “It’s just… gh, it’s really bright in here.” He rubbed his eyes under his headwings. “Can you turn the lights down or something?”
“I don’t have a dimmer switch,” he said, hesitantly reaching back into his wings. “We only have those in your room.”
“And your ceiling lights are probably brighter.”
“That’s right.”
He became quiet.
“…” He rolled his eyes. “Fine, I can turn it off. I’m almost done fixing your mess anyways.” He reached back and flicked off his lamp, and squinted through the new dark that filled the room.
It was hard to make out, but he could see Heart draw his headwings back and look around. “Jeez.” He looked over his shoulder back at him. “I forget how neat you keep it in here.”
He rolled his eyes again, finding he now had to rely on touch alone to preen him as his eyes adjusted. “You see why I don’t want feathers everywhere?”
“Yeah, I guess.”
He folded his hands on his lap over the feathers he’d gathered and looked over his handiwork. “There, done.”
He rolled his shoulders and stretched out his wings one by one. “Hm.”
“Well?”
“Well what?”
“You’re welcome,” he said sarcastically, setting the shed matter on his nightstand. “You need to take better care of yourself. Don’t expect me to do that again.”
“… Yeah, thanks.” He looked away from him, and Mind could almost hear disappointment in his voice. “That felt nice.”
He felt that- that goddamn twinge again, that stupid, unidentifiable feeling. “I bet anything feels better than the sorry state they were in before.” Fucking hell, get yourself together.
“Mhm.” An awkward silence settled over both of them. “Well, um, I’m going to go to sleep.”
He nodded and moved away from him. No, he didn’t care at all. “Go ahead.”
He watched him lay down with his back towards him. His wings neatly tucked themselves, and his head rested on an arm he propped under a pillow. Mind, in turn, laid down as well, about as far away from Heart as he could get. He couldn’t look at him or his hands would be right back on him again – he prided himself on his attention to detail, but he wanted to go to sleep more than he wanted to keep preening him, and if he looked at him anymore, then he wouldn’t be able to keep himself.
He heard Heart turn over behind him.
“Hey, Mind?”
“… Yeah?”
“…”
He remained facing away from him. “What do you want?”
“… Nothing. Nevermind.”
“Go to sleep.”
Heart turned back, and Mind remained still. He hoped he didn’t hear his pulse racing – it was stupid to wonder if he even could – and he tried to focus on any other thought than what – who – laid opposite to him. His face felt strangely hot, and he couldn’t even bring himself to try and talk whatever it was Heart was going to say out of him.
He shut his eyes and ignored the pressure in his chest. No, it didn’t matter. The heat in his face didn’t matter, the pit in his stomach didn’t matter. None of it mattered. If he tried to make meaning out of it, he’d be awake all night.
He could hear Heart’s breathing even out, and realized he’d fallen asleep.
He glanced over his shoulder, against his better judgment, to look at his sleeping form. He looked so… Peaceful. It made sense that it’d be odd to see him like this, when he’d become so used to seeing his face knit with rage. There was no aggression, no hostility, no loathing in his expression as he slept, and for a moment, right there, they didn’t have to hate each other. There was no anger in the space at all. The only thing between them was quiet proximity and the darkness of the room.
He tore his eyes away and shoved a pillow between them.
It didn’t matter. It couldn’t. He wouldn’t let it.