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It’s past midnight when he slips underneath the pristine duvet of his otherwise empty bed. The room is pitch black save for the small strobes of light that peak out of the crevices in the blinds. It comforts him knowing that outside there exists a separate world from the one he enclosed himself in. On the bed next to his, a body blends into the surroundings, hair entwined with the darkness, but his face radiates an innocent light amidst the atmosphere set forth by circumstance. It pains Ash to even share a room with Eiji—his guilt engulfs him, takes over his emotions until the only thing on his mind are unspoken apologies.He lets himself drop into the foam, and his muscles are able to finally relax from the constant tension. He’s about to go to sleep, he’s so fucking tired that all he wants to do is sleep, but even with his eyelids heavy he can’t seem to steady his breathing. Ash lays staring at the ceiling, counting back from a hundred in slow, agonizing seconds in a pitiable attempt to even his heartbeat.After a few minutes, he gets up. Swings his legs around to the side of the bed, bare feet feeling the expensive plush carpet that costs more than he could ever imagine, he hesitates to get up. Inhales. Holds his breath for seven seconds. Exhales, and gets up.Somehow he manages to find the bathroom with only his phone screen illuminating the way. The overhead lights temporarily blind him when he presses the switch, eyes once again reminding him how much they hurt from how tired he is. It’s during nights like these where he would give anything to just lie down and sleep, to be able to shut off his brain for once.The reflection in the mirror is not a kind sight, and the warm, yellow-tinted glow from the lights emphasizes the paleness of his skin in contrast to the purple, bruising dark circles. He looks exhausted, worn-out. His head is throbbing; it does nothing to ease the thoughts that submerge him. The guilt returns. The rapid heartbeat in his chest is now coupled with bile building up in his throat. From the pit of his stomach to the top of his throat, he feels an overwhelming pressure. Be it fatigue, nerves, or a mix of both there’s something about his state of mind that makes him unable to catch his breath.A sudden urge to wash his hands hits him hard. It’s been so long since he felt the need to be clean all the time, so long since the times when he would scrub his skin underneath scorching water until his hands resembled the blood he used to have on them almost a decade ago. Looking down at his fingers, he notices that the top of his nails are turning a bluish-purple color. He doesn’t remember it being cold but he finds himself shivering from a nonexistent gust of wind. It’s comical really—how much of a mess he’s is right now. The self-awareness isn’t lost on Ash, though self-awareness alone can’t fix another wave of nausea that collides with his already anxious body. He could throw up. Whether or not it would calm him down is arguable, but now that he had gotten the idea of vomiting out the contents of his stomach into his head, the nausea overtook him. It crept up his throat and left him choking for air in the middle of a coughing fit. Ash felt his himself shake with every cough, each one getting worse than the last until he could no longer hold down the nauseous feeling.__Weak. He was weak, knees on the marble floor, arms around the white porcelain, trying his hardest not to tremble as he steadied himself. --He tries to remember what prompted this. What triggered the anxiety, what made him unable to calm down for the thirty seconds needed to just fall the fuck asleep. He feels dirty—used, unclean, and any other adjective that could be used to describe someone as worthless as him. On most nights, he can get through it with only a nightmare or two. Today, however, he’s plagued with a never-ending stream of intrusive thoughts that just won’t shut the fuck up about how much he should just go kill himself already. And to think he truly believed he could be an equal to Eiji in any regard—hell, he can’t even be in the same room as him at night without having a breakdown over how disgusting he is. Eiji deserves someone as pure as he is, not someone with cracks so deep and so visible that no amount of money or faux power could ever begin to cover them up.Ash loses the strength to keep himself upright and slumps down to the floor, curling his legs towards his chest. Tears form in the corner of his eyes; he does nothing to wipe them away when they streak his cheeks with reflective wetness. It’s like he’s losing his mind—he was fine one minute and then the next he’s crying on the bathroom floor trying to control the volume of his sobs. He’s used to crying alone in his bed, used to crying in hushed whispers almost not audible to anyone. For some reason, this time he found it hard to keep quiet.Almost as if he wants Eiji to hear, wants him to open the door and see what kind of person Ash really is. He wants Eiji to know this side of him, wants him to know so that he can leave him. If Eiji sees this side of him, Ash doesn’t have a doubt in his mind that he’d leave. Who the fuck wants to deal with someone as emotionally unstable as him when they don’t have to? When they can just leave and be done with it, forget that they ever knew him. Why would Eiji willingly stay when it’s so easy to leave? The ties that keep Eiji bound to him are superficial, made out of razor-thin thread, so thin that any sudden movements would break them. Once severed, they can’t be repaired.--A tap on the door alerts Ash that he’d been collapsed on the floor of the bathroom long enough to wake up Eiji. “A-Ash, are you okay?” Timid. Eiji’s voice is timid and full of uncertainty, not that Ash blames him. He wants to answer, desperately wants to say that he’s fine, but the stomach acid burned his throat. It hurts to swallow, and he feels the hoarseness starting to overtake his throat. “Do you need me to come in?” Another question, a sincere one at that. Ash hates how even at his lowest he can’t seem to push him away. He wants to yell and scream at Eiji to leave him alone. He wants to scare him away so that he’d finally leave which would make Ash finally stop thinking about Eiji abandoning him during his every waking moment. If he makes Eiji leave then it’s his choice, it’s not the same as abandonment if he asks for it. He’s running out of options given that he forgot to lock the door and his lack of a response is making Eiji suspicious. There’s another tap on the door, then a sigh. “I’m going to come in, okay? You’re not responding, and it’s scaring me,” he began. His voice was calm but laced with worry. He could hear the faint hint of worry in Eiji’s voice. A wave of guilt washed over Ash. The sobs started again but this time, he didn’t hold back his voice.--It takes Eiji twenty minutes to calm Ash down enough to move him from the floor to the bed.--They’re sitting together on Eiji’s bed; the blinds are drawn to reveal the mutable skyline. Ash’s eyes are vacant, distracted. The soft mantra Eiji tells him, his shaking fingers brushing over Ash’s clenched hands in circular motions, go unregistered. There is no light in the room save for the city lights. Anyone would be in awe of the sight presented by floor-to-ceiling windows; a literal multimillion dollar view. However, the sublime nature is lost in the void of Ash’s unfocused consciousness. He can’t concentrate, his head is spinning and the earlier fatigue exemplified. Eiji is patient; he does not push nor does he pry. Instead, he repeats ‘it’s going to be okay’, ‘breathe in slowly, yeah, just like that’, and ‘I promise I’m not going anywhere.’--It’s well into the early morning. Eiji feels himself growing tired as well but the state in which Ash is in leaves him to force his eyes open. It’s hard on him too, but he’d never admit it. He’d die before he would ever admit that this took a toll on him too, that seeing Ash like this tore his heart in half. He was helpless during these moments, unable to provide Ash with anything more than what he’d read online about panic attacks. Eiji had considered asking Ash about going to therapy but decided against it—maybe after tonight was over he’d actually bring up the idea. Though, knowing Ash’s inevitable response, it was futile to even suggest it. “Ash, do you think you could lay down for me?” A faint nod of the head is all it takes for Eiji to help guide Ash down on the bed. He lies down beside Ash, bringing the duvet to cover them both. “You can lean into my chest, if you want.” A demand phrased like a suggestion. He wants Ash to feel his rapid heartbeat. “Sorry.” “Don’t apologize.” Ash curls into Eiji’s chest, making himself as small as possible. A defense mechanism. Eiji brings his hand to sweep away the bangs clinging to Ash’s forehead. He evens his breathing to let Ash match it. Eiji’s arm wraps around Ash’s waist making the space between them obsolete. It takes both of them a while to fall asleep and when they do, it’s with their limbs entangled and their bodies flush up against each other.--The sunlight pours into the room from the window whose blinds they forgot to close. It’s the early morning, not even 8 AM yet. Eiji wakes up first and is pleased to see that Ash hadn’t moved from their position all night. He’s relieved that they managed to sleep through the night but he knows the second Ash wakes up it’ll be hard to get him to open up. And maybe he won’t push the issue today, or tomorrow even. All he’ll do is tell him that he’s willing to listen whenever he does want to talk and that if he ever does want to get help, he’ll be there every step of the way.But for now, all he can do is watch the peaceful expression on Ash’s face as he sleeps without his overbearing anxieties.