You supposed it would only be a matter of time before he caught wind of what you were doing. The bags under your eyes were growing more pronounced, your awareness and attention beginning to wane thinner day by day. You were honestly surprised he hadn't said something sooner. He was normally quite perceptive to your wellbeing and general state of mind.
Law narrowed his eyes at the sight of you in the dimly-lit kitchen. Surely, you must have looked a mess: riding that thin precipice of being awake and passing out where you stood. But the many, many cups of coffee, caffeine pills, and the sheer stubbornness you exuded were the only reasons you still had your eyes open and standing on your feet. Swaying, perhaps, but standing nonetheless.
"Y/N. You need sleep." His tired, slightly disappointed tone meant he did not approve of your forceful lack of it. It wasn't the first time, and in all honesty, neither of you believed it would be your last. "This isn't a healthy habit."
"Pff. Says the king of avoidance and poor coping mechanisms..." Is all you can think to say, finding the irony in him chastising you for not taking better care of yourself. Wasn't he the one you were constantly trying to get to eat better and more frequently? With the amount of times you'd discovered he'd skipped meals to work on other duties, this whole thing felt ridiculous.
He only shakes his head at you, not taking the verbal bait. This discussion wasn't about his own bad habits. "Come on. Off to bed."
You take up an equally guarded stance, arms crossed and lifting your chin in defiance. You have to blink a few times for your vision to un-blur slightly. "No."
"I'm not asking."
"And I'm not going."
With this stalemate reached, he simply stares at you, eyes flicking over your face as if looking for the reason you so vehemently refused to get the proper sleep you needed to function well. You weren't stupid, he knew that. So this petty refusal to take care of a basic need lead him to believe one simple conclusion.
"They're happening again?" He guessed, not needing to specify what he was talking about.
Nightmares. Inescapable prisons of dreams that you couldn't wake from no matter how terrifying or distressing they may be. You hated them. The thought of sleep unnerved you. The simple fact that you could have another was reason enough to wish to avoid them. Sure, you were tired as a result, relying on supplementary things to keep you awake, but at least you weren't stuck in anxiety-inducing dreams that left you sweating and feeling awful come the next morning.
When you eventually, reluctantly, nod an affirmative as your gaze drops to the floor, his expression softens just that little bit to ease your own defensiveness. He steps forward, watching for any sign that you'd run. When he sees none, he steps into your space and lifts a hand to rest on the top of your head gently.
"You know you can come to me when these things happen."
"I know." You mutter, feeling both ridiculous and comforted by his words. Admitting you were struggling with the dreams and the feelings surrounded them was never easy. "I just...don't want to always rely on you."
"There's a difference between relying on others and asking for help." Law reasons, taking the opportunity to shift his hand to your back and guiding you towards the hall to your room. "You're not a burden for it, nor do I think you weak for needing it."
You say nothing, not sure what to respond with, but you do go willingly in the direction he brings you. Of course it's his room. A place that felt so familiar and safe now. You were here almost if not more than your own room further down the hall.
He guides you to his bed, the covers tousled and uneven. Despite the anxiety at the thought of the dreams that may plague your mind that night, you lay on what you'd designated as 'your side' of the bed, letting Law bring the covers up over you. It's warm and soft, and you watch as he circles around to the other side to slide in beside you.
Without having to ask, he's pulling you closer to him, one arm rested against your side and the other tucked up under his head to lay on. He eyes you tiredly, but with a patient expression. There's not a single sign of annoyance for having to have you here. That in of itself is the most reassuring part.
"Close your eyes." He instructs in a murmur, doing the same as if to demonstrate it was safe to do so.
"Will you wake me if I have one of those dreams?" You ask quietly, already feeling your eyelids growing heavier. After days of delaying the inevitable, you're losing the fight incredibly fast.
"Of course." He says with one cracked eye, one hand reaching up to brush a thumb along your cheek, just under your own eye. "I'll be right here beside you all night. There's no reason to worry."
"Promise?"
Maybe it was a little silly of you to ask, but the reassurance of him confirming it was slowing your heart rate and dispelling the effects of some of the dozens of cups of coffee you'd had that day.
Law huffs out a little breath, brow raised, as if the thought of going back on his word was even a possibility. "Promise."
You nod, using the last bit of your strength to take in the sight of Law relaxed, holding you to him, watching over you as you lose the fight to sleep moments later. It was these tender moments that you cherished most, that never failed to ease some of the nerves and anxiety so often causing these bad dream states. He never failed to be there for you when you needed him.
The warmth of his arms and his bed, the familiar scent of the surroundings, and the comfort that you weren't alone all lead to an undisturbed and much needed sleep that night. And when you woke up, he was still right there beside you, asleep as well, fingers intertwined.
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