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Mikey remained with his cat-like eyes wide open. His dried retina pained from tiredness. His head felt heavy and periodically tilted of fatigue, but the blond just wouldn’t go to sleep. He refused to, out of fear, cuz’ whenever he closed his eyelids, the darkness would recreate unpleasant scenes which he didn’t want to see, of bloody battles and things he almost lost, that always made his hands start shaking.

He didn’t want to see any of these images. It gave him way more comfort watching Ken enjoy in his place the great gift that was being able to sleep. Good for him. What an asshole.

But when he did it, it was the same as being with his eyes closed, and somehow, someone with similar features as the sleeping one would appear in his mind as a blurred ghost, unconscious and intubated on a hospital bed, so immerse into a different astral plane that Mikey feared Ken would get lost and never find his way back, and it that was a dangerous thing to happen. Everybody knows what it means when it happens. It was the same with his brother. And Manjirou’s hands would start trembling even when he didn’t want it to. It was just as stubborn as him.

However, at the same time, observing him calmed Mikey. It soothed his pained and tight and breathless and unbalanced heart. Seeing that Ken still exists, and he was right there at the other side of the bed, next to the wall; and he sleeps, calm and peacefully, free from guilty and distrust, and fears and worries, seeming to be on a stage of life that didn’t even look like life anymore, something that looked exactly like the opposite of life, the one that Mikey never says out loud to avoid bad luck.

[Oh, look, his hands are shaking again.

Draken and the opposite of life should never share a sentence.

The blonde swallowed his own spit, and got his hands next to the taller one’s face, verifying his warm skin (way too warm, seems like a fever), and then, took it right to his chest, feeling on the palm the up and down of his soft breath, different from his (really fucking unbalanced), and where he could feel his heart beating violently against his ribs.

Relief. Just relief. Just lots of it.

“Stop touching me while I sleep”, said the other, woozy, almost in a mumble full of sleepiness right from his throat.

“My bad”, he said, but his hand never moved away.