A Nest Of Bugs

Vocaloid: in the dark where no one will hurt you

Ship: Flower and Len (platonic)
TW: referenced assault, implied SA, nightmares

It's dark.
The room is pitch-dark, even at the window where the blinds are drawn and practically taped to the wall around them. Nothing can get in.
The door is locked from the inside, but it offers little protection. It's only made of wood, and some out there can pick locks.
The closet is shut, strips of duct tape keeping it from opening. Phantoms call out from inside.
The room is pitch-dark, except for the greenish glow from the TV. A fake documentary about office workers is playing, but the volume is low. It's turned up enough for the room's occupants to hear, but quiet enough that nobody else will.

Ah, and the occupants of the room. Two of them are in there, wrapped in the thickest blanket they could find, freshly showered and dressed in clean, dry pajamas, their wounds expertly bandaged by the doctors who let them go just a day before. Clinging onto each other for dear life, one of them stares at the TV and the other is slowly drifting to sleep.

The one who's still awake is Flower. Their eyes are dull, their hands still trembling, ghosts of fists and fingers still covering their body. Sometimes their eyes fill with tears, but they blink them away, over and over, until they go for good. They're so tired, so tired, but they refuse to let sleep win.

Len is the other one. His head has fallen to the side, resting on Flower's shoulder, his eyes finally closed. The voices of the actors on TV have lulled him to sleep, after too long of being awake. Flower hasn't realized he's asleep yet. His hand is still holding theirs, though his grip is a bit limp.

Now, Flower hears a noise and turns to Len. He's snoring oh so softly, and he's completely unaware of his surroundings. Flower moves him so he's lying down and then lies next to him, wrapping their arms around his middle so they're holding him like a teddy bear. He is warm and he smells like safety, and they try to close their eyes and follow his example. They try so hard.

It seems like forever until sleep comes, but their eyes have been open for too long and they are tired, so tired. For a while there is nothing but the dark, cold, emptiness of sleep. But this "bliss" is short-lived, for the dreams come soon after.

They see that young man's face again, clear as day, and his bright sharp knife glinting in the moonlight. His friends. They see Len, held off to the side, struggling just as much as them. They see the knife go into their skin and draw blood, they watch it spill, they watch time slow down terribly as they and Len are beaten, thrown about, kicked and punched and cut over and over. And if that wasn't enough, the leader of the gang just had to have his way with them. It was just as surreal as when it happened before, when they weren't dreaming.

All they had done was to go out to the twenty-four-hour convenience store with Len for some cup noodles, for a midnight snack. Maybe a slushie. But that was all! They hadn't done anything to deserve being jumped like that.

And as the dream faded away, they woke up standing in the middle of the room, their face wet with tears, seeing Len standing across from them and looking equally terrified. Their hands were still together, fingers trembling but still intertwined.

"Come on, let's get back under the blankets.." they mumbled, their voice sounding strange and hollow, as if it wasn't theirs at all.

"It's safer in there.. Warmer.. " Len whispered. He pulled them back towards the bed and they pulled him further, curling up as close to each other as possible with blankets wrapped all around. Each of them staring at the television, their eyelids heavy, sleep threatening to pull them back once again.