Moonjumper x Reader Drabble, reader has insomnia, anxiety and self-worth/trust issues. Reader is gender-neutral, MJ is referred to with he/they
A silent sigh escaped your lips, drifting through the air and off into the inky abyss that was the darkness of your room.
You didn't know what time it was, just that it was late. Really late, or maybe early? Either way, you really shouldn't have been awake.
You laid in your bed, eyes wide open and trained on a fixated spot in your room. Watching in an almost paralyzed state as if expecting something to morph or move. Obviously nothing would, but you watched anyway, even with how heavy your eyelids were beginning to feel. You just watched, watched and thought.
The racing of your thoughts didn't help much with your apparent insomnia either. They were more than capable of keeping you occupied while you you kept up your silent vigil. One thought would only spawn another, and then another, until a collage of different topics, ideas, and scenarios with only vague connections filled your mind with an endless, maddening banter.
On the outside, in the even colder dark beyond the walls, the rain thrummed rhythmically against the glass of your window, providing a sort of white noise that actually brought a strange sense of comfort with it.
A slight shift of the covers beside you made you jolt, ripping your gaze away from "That Spot" for the first time in hours. Your heart beating significantly faster in dread at the idea of someone or something being in the room with you-
Oh wait
It was just Moonjumper.
Right, right... geez you had honestly forgotten that he was even there. His spectral form laid completely still, facing away from you as he slept in unnerving silence.
Being a ghost and all, the silence was actually quite normal, and usually it never bothered you. They had quite a lively personality for a spirit. So extremely excited and curious about the world around him, it filled your heart with such a fondness it aches.
So it was a completely different experience when he slept.
His chest didn't rise or fall, he didn't snore, and he hardly ever tossed or turned. It was like laying next to a corpse sometimes.
They didn't even need to sleep, but they did it anyway. Simply because you did, and they wanted to share that experience with you.
You stared tiredly at the back of their crescent-shaped head, letting yourself get carried away with the thoughts and memories and ideas. Then one idea stuck out to you, like a red tulip among a thousand yellow ones.
Your hand roamed around underneath the covers, timidly looking for their own to grab, or at least touch.
The thoughts had been becoming a bit more...concerning, as of late, often times that was a tell-tale sign of an oncoming relapse. They'd plague and fester at ungodly hours of the night, when insomnia would refuse to loosen its grip, and soon enough, the thoughts would join you during the day as well. Even if you had gotten a good nights sleep.
You...you were allowed this right? I mean, you were a thing, a couple. You had been for at least several weeks now, so you were allowed to do things like seek affection and comfort, right?
He had said it was okay, time and time again he would. In instances where you would go in for a hug before reconsidering and backing away, or attempting to hold his hand and then clutching your fingers and apologizing, or opening your mouth to talk about some issue that bothered you, before closing it and going silent. He had made it a point, looking you in the eyes and saying very explicitly:
"Love, if something is bothering you, if you want to talk, if you require comfort of any kind. I will give it to you. No questions asked."
A familiar heat rose to your cheeks at the memory, the sheer determination that shined in his mismatched eyes provided a sense of security you hadn't felt in years. A sense of validation.
A sense of love.
Your hand met with the back of his shirt, a pastel yellow tee, with some cartoon on the front that you couldn't see since he was facing away from you. You bought it for him once when passing by a clothing store in The City. And despite the warm blanket covering you both, you could still feel the natural chill of his skin underneath the cloth.
This is as far as you would go. The chance of waking him up, of him getting annoyed at you for doing so. It was too risky, too scary. Not that you were scared of him, of course, but of the possibilities.
The possibilities of being a burden.
You released a gentle sigh. It was only a little contact, a little comfort. But it was enough, enough to ground you, and remind you.
It's okay.
You slowly clenched your fingers, never moving your hand from their back, and closed your eyes. Not to sleep, but to indulge in the calmness that was once the invading fog of anxiety. The darkness now a blanket of obscurity that hid you from the monsters in the dark and in your head.
And your ghostly love stirred. Literally.
Your hand shot away from them. Holding it close to your chest as the tiny good feelings receded back into the dark corners of the room. You feared upsetting him, you feared upsetting anyone, you hoped they wouldn't be upset. You hoped, you hoped, you hoped...
You had hoped they would wake up.
He turned over, adjusting the blankets around his shoulders as he now faced you. His eyes never opening.
Truth be told, you didn't really notice. You didn't pay any mind to the anxiety trying to claw at the back of your skull, or the relief upon finding he hadn't woken. Like you thought you would.
In this moment, you saw only him.
The markings on their cheeks glowed a subtle red, almost pulsating like the beat of a heart. Fading in and out at a steady rhythm that made even you feel sleepy.
Even in sleep, even without breathing, or snoring, any kind of heartbeat. He looked so...
Alive.
The fear and anxiety in you faded. It seemed almost silly to ever be afraid of such a lovely thing, of such a lovely person.
Your hand found its way into his, now that it was within reach. The coldness of his skin against yours was refreshing in a way, and you would spend an eternity and a half just to hold this very hand.
Moon's eyes peeked open. The gentle red glow from his face becoming more prominent with the revealing of his own glowing patterned eyes. The fear in you was gone, for now, and he was met only with your smiling, beautiful loving face. The features of which was illuminated in the scarlet light.
He smiled, and not just at anyone, not just at anything. But at you. You, who had so easily captivated his thoughts and heart. You, who ever since he had escaped the unending, maddening abyss of the Horizon–had made him feel so wonderfully blessed.
Their fingers wrapped around your own, and he scooted closer, just enough to touch your forehead with his. Gingerly bringing his other hand up to rest against your cheek.
You felt so incredibly tired, staring into their hypnotic gaze, and it became difficult to focus on anything else. Your eyelids sliding shut as seconds went by. Moonjumper followed suit as soon as yours were closed.
And you both slept, a pleasant, dreamless sleep. Free of thoughts of any kind, silenced by the hand on your cheek.
