Every time he manages to fall asleep once more, he finds himself right where he was before.
Tsukasa has no clue what's gotten into him at this time— something has to have happened for him to have such a dreadful nightmare, the memory of it repeating again and again until it overwhelms him and he has to will himself to stop until he can collect his thoughts before they all shift towards the idea that he isn't truly safe anywhere. It really does seem irrational, outlandish even, however— he may as well have a target painted on his back, given that...
He has to approach this, somehow. If he was to turn on the lights to hopefully ward anyone off, perhaps someone would be alerted, meaning that he'd have to explain everything - and like everything else about tonight, he can't pinpoint why, but it feels undesirable to do so - that is, if he isn't whisked away before…
Even so, it would do some good to talk to someone. Although he's not quite used to relying on others just yet, the way things are, if he doesn't find someone who can put him at ease, he might fall asleep somewhere… only to wake up in an unfamiliar…
It's like his arms will give out on him when he so much as shifts to a sitting position, and fetches his phone that sits on the nightstand. There are, compared to what he'd become used to for the past fifteen years, an abundance of people he could talk to, even at this time, yet when he considers his options there's a strong feeling he's only recently come to terms with that guides him, until he's typed out and sent a greeting entirely on impulse, hoping that he'll be answered and that nothing terrible has happened to…
Only when he rereads what he's said does he understand why Yuuta's reply to him is full of concern, although he's surprisingly able to understand what he means to convey with shaking hands as he lets himself go and puts his dreams into words. There's a steady stream of messages between them, as though Yuuta is doing his very best to keep him company before his paranoia can eat at him again, though they're mostly talking about what they've done during the winter that they weren't together for (and they'd been together for a lot, in hindsight), until, at some point— the messages from Yuuta stop coming. A few minutes pass, then a few more, until Tsukasa's convinced that…
("Sorry, could you open the windows for me?")
Immediately, he makes his way to the balcony, bare feet on cold tiles, and finds that someone really is waiting for him; opening the curtains, he's met with a bit of snow, a sky beginning to brighten, and a friend still in his pyjamas waving at him as though he's come in through the front door. Wait, had he scaled his house?! Jesus Christ, he could have fallen and…
"Yuuta-kun, what on Earth were you thinking?!"
It's like he expects Tsukasa to be appalled (he should), holding his hands out to get him to stop his worry-induced tangent before it starts.
"Wait, wait, let me explain!" And as an afterthought, he sees him mumble something about not expecting to be on this side of the conversation.
"I, um…" The strange thing is, not once has he faced him until now, but here he does with newfound conviction. "I came to make sure you could sleep again."
He doesn't mean to say that he'd come all this way, presumably on foot, and made his way all the way up here, just to comfort him over a nightmare... does he?
"I mean, I'd probably be crying if I had a dream like that, ah…" Absentmindedly, he twirls a lock of his hair. "How are you feeling now?"
How is he feeling?
Better, now that you've come to see me , he wants to say, but if he was to tell him how much that gesture means to him he would save it for a time where he at least had a bouquet, so he settles for alright, thank you.
It comes to him that they should probably go inside now, and when they do the warmth from inside his room seems to envelop him; the sun is still rising, and yet he feels as though he could go back to sleep any moment, knowing someone will spend the rest of the night with him.
But, for some reason, while being treated this highly by someone like Yuuta sets his heart aflutter, there's a desire in him to do the same— all of the times he's comforted Yuuta through his own nightmares, or through nights where all he had felt he could do was cry, he finds himself unable to think of and say "perhaps he's paying me back for this".
In fact, he's realized something very important he'd missed before in his state of romanticism, that he has to say before anything else.
"Yuuta-kun, may I tell you something?"
At this point, Yuuta has an arm around him, as if to protect him from whatever dangers there may be— which works, setting aside how his face is uncomfortably warm, and that appears to be the same for him when he looks at him expectantly.
"...Thank you. I really do appreciate this."
Yuuta laughs, melodically. "Anytime."