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The lighter flicked on and off.
On. Off. On. Off.
The sound wasn’t loud. Barely anything, really. But Neil still felt vaguely guilty about it, like the noise alone might wake his boyfriend up who was fast asleep beside him.
Neil kept flicking the lighter anyway.
He needed his hands busy. He was stuck in that awful middle space where you're too tired to get up and actually do something, but too restless to stay still.
He fucking hated how often his body decided to make things complicated. Like it was actively working against him.
The flame jumped to life again. Neil watched it for a second before lifting his hand and hovering his fingers just above it. The heat kissed his skin.
He thought about dropping it.
Letting it fall onto the sheets. So he could watch everything catch fire, the bed, room, him along with it. He imagined how fast it would spread and how the smoke would fill the room.
He was used to burning sensations. Just… mostly below his waist. Neil hated that pain when he was a kid. It scared him. Made him feel small. Helpless.
But as he got older, something changed.
That specific type of dehumanizing pain became grounding. It pulled him back into himself when his head started drifting too far away. Which is why now any type of hurt had the same effect. It was such a fucked up thing to think, and he knew that, but it didn’t make it less true.
The only thing really stopping him now was his boyfriend.
The thought of Brian made him finally turn his head.
That’s when he froze.
Brian’s face was twisted tight, like he was fighting something. Sweat dotted his forehead, darkening the pillow beneath him. His mouth moved like he was talking, but no sound came out. His breathing was fast, uneven.
Neil’s thumb slipped off the lighter. Shit this was bad.
“You gotta wake up” he said loudly. “Brian?”
That was all it took.
He shot upright with a sharp, stuttering gasp, like he’d just surfaced from deep water. His eyes were wide and panicked. Then he saw Neil’s hand reaching to try and comfort him.
“Get away from me!” Brian shouted, voice loud but breaking.
He scrambled off the bed, backing himself into the wall, hands flying up into his hair. He yanked hard, breathing fast, like he couldn’t get enough air.
Fuck. Fuck.
Neil’s chest tightened. He slid off the bed too, hands raised slightly, trying not to crowd him. “Hey. It’s okay,” he said. “You’re okay. Just breathe.”
The words sounded wrong even as he said them. Cheap. The kind of thing people said when they didn’t know what else to do. He’d had those same words thrown at him before when he was like this, and they never helped.
But he didn’t know what else to say.
What he did know was that Brian was hurting himself.
Brian had pulled his knees up to his chest, head bowed, mumbling something under his breath. Neil couldn’t make out the words. His hands were clenched tight, nails digging into his skin.
Neil moved closer and grabbed Brian’s wrists, holding them still. “Stop it,” he said.
Brian let out a choked sob. “Please no.”
Instead he just held on tighter. “C’mon. It’s me. Neil.” His throat felt thick. “You’re safe. You’re not with—” He stopped himself. He wouldn’t say that bastard’s name. He refused to give it space in the room.
His breathing hitched.
Slowly, Brian looked up.
His eyes were glassy, unfocused, tears clinging but not falling yet. He stared at Neil like he was trying to place him. Like he was slowly coming back into his body.
“Oh,” Brian whispered.
Then he lunged forward, practically knocking Neil onto his back. He clung to him hard, arms locked tight around his torso, face buried in Neil’s neck. His whole body shook as he cried.
Neil wrapped his arms around him without thinking. Held him just as tightly. He pressed his face into Brian’s hair and stayed there.
He didn’t think he’d ever wanted to never let go of someone this badly.
“I’m sorry,” Brian whispered against his neck.
Neil instantly sneered but obviously Brian couldn’t see it. “For what?” There was nothing to apologize for. And the fact he would even insinuate that there was a reason pissed him off.
Brian stayed quiet for a second. Then he pulled back slightly, just enough to look at Neil. A tear slipped down his cheek. “I should’ve told you about the nightmares,” he said, looking ashamed.
Neil lifted his hands and held his face gently. Brian leaned into it immediately.
“You tell me whatever the hell you want,” Neil said. “Whenever you want.”
Brian smiled then. Small and tired.
That smile hit Neil right in the chest.
He leaned forward and brushed their noses together before pressing a soft kiss to Brian’s lips.
“I love you,” Brian said.
Neil smiled. “I love you too.”