You’d been going through a phase.

A can’t-sleep-no-matter-what phase. It was infuriating. You’d tried every remedy recommend to you, tried exercise, tried humming yourself to sleep—nothing. Your body simply wouldn’t let sleep take it until odd hours of the morning, when the village was just getting lively.

Ao’nung was going through something similar, had been for most of his life, but he didn’t tell you that. And in a state of delirium, you two had somehow found comfort in each other. The last person you’d ever expected to find comfort in.

He’s laid back against the sand, you curled into him as he traces soothing circles against your back. Friends—or whatever you two were—did not do this, you knew that. But it was also the only thing that came close to soothing you. His gentle touch, his odd stories when you were half-asleep.

“You’re snoring,” he teases and you swat at him in response. You never actually allowed yourself to fall asleep in his arms; the act would make you lose a sense of dignity. “Just sleep a little. I’ll wake you up when the sun starts coming up.”

Ao’nung brings his hand up to your hair, fingers finding your scalp. You hated how good it felt, how comforting.