Shinso haden't slept for a few days. He was starting to see things, come in and out of consciousness, and his anxiety was at an all time high.

He had insomnia, he was almost sure of himself. He didn't exactly have the resources to get a proper diagnosis, but enough research and the symptoms lining up, he led himself to that conclusion.

He rubs his eyes, until the gentle click of his dorm door was heard. Your warm body against his always relaxed him, your soothing voice putting him to sleep. He felt comforted by you reassuring him it was okay to sleep; when you were around, the nightmares went away – or, at least, lessened.

He hated, hated bothering you. When he finally admitted to his lack of sleep, you demanded on coming over.

"You sure came by fast," he mumbled, hands tapping anxiously against his thigh.