high rise hearts ☆ lifesteal smp au

𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐄𝐒 ✦

𝘁𝘆𝗽𝗲: hurt/comfort
𝘀𝗵𝗶𝗽𝘀: swagdoons
𝘁𝘄: n/a (i think?? this is technically a oneshot abt nightmares so)
𝗿𝗲𝗾𝘂𝗲𝘀𝘁𝗲𝗱 𝗯𝘆: n/a
𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗲𝘅𝘁: ash wakes up in the middle of the night, and redd's there

─── ⋅☆⋅ ───

𝐏𝐎𝐕: ash

 It had been a while since he'd felt this way.

 He couldn't remember- didn't want to remember- the last time it had happened. The feeling of sweat running down his forehead, the hazy fog of glitches clouding his vision and his conscience, the memories-

 He didn't remember them ever being so vivid. The bright, overbearing colors, the whispering voices that grew louder with every second they spoke, the feeling of hate that came from the very fabric of reality, wrapping him tightly in its blazing anger, suffocating him slowly, burning him to crisps, a final punishment for what he'd done.

 The last time it had happened, Redd wasn't there.

 Today he was.

 "Ash? You good?" A groggy voice, a barely whispered set of words, rose from beside him, the unmistakable voice of Reddoons almost drowned out by the familiar background static of his feelings.

 "I'm fine." he whispered back just as softly, if only because it was customary to speak quietly at night. The words were clipped short to stopper the swirl of emotions, attached by imaginary strings to the end of his sentence, practically begging to be pulled free. He would not let them- would resist the temptation.

 "You don't sound fine, Ash." He watches the Redd-shaped shadow sit up beside him, one hand moving up to rub his eyes, free of sunglasses for the night. He couldn't see them now, not when it was so dark, but he knew they were bright like crystal, pure like sky, and he knew their gaze was on him. It felt comforting and terrifying all at once.

 "I am." He clenched the edge of the comforter tighter in his hands- he hadn't even known he was holding it. The white fabric scrunched up in his grasp, and he willed it to break, to tear apart like the threads of reality that once held him back. But the comforter remained intact, because it was Redd's and he shouldn't break it, because he was weak.

 "Ash, don't lie to me." Redd's voice is stern, but beneath that hard tone is concern, welling up and spilling out into sentences. The desire to do the same is what Ash fights now.

 "I'm- not." He inhales slowly, deeply. The air smells the same as it always has, of fresh paint and pancakes and cologne and Reddoons, but it fails to calm him as it used to. "Can we just- go back to bed?"

 He feels a hand, warm and soft so unlike his cold and calloused one, come to rest upon his shoulder. Once, when he was stronger, he would have pushed it away. But today he let it rest there, because it soothed him and he was weak. "Do you wanna talk about it?"

 "I-" He would like to talk about it, his brain tells him, but it also says that he shouldn't, because it meant weakness, to give in. "No." The word comes out all wrong, and he knows that a shred of longing, tied to it by a string, has escaped his mouth too, because he wants to tell Reddoons but he can't.

 "Is it about that again?" Redd presses anyways. Ash knows he can answer that question for himself, but he asks anyways, if only to make the words come out of his mouth, to make him accept that fact, to admit it. He knows what he means by that too, but he wishes he doesn't.

 "I-" He knows there is no use in lying anymore, not when Redd has turned to him, perfect face creased with worry and understanding. Worry for him, understanding for his problems. Things he doesn't deserve, but which he receives anyway. "Yes."

 The hand on his shoulder snakes around him, curling around him in a half-embrace which pulls them closer. He is made aware of the warmth of another body now next to him, and he leans into it, starved for heat, starved for comfort. A brief shifting of clothing, and he feels his head cradled against Redd's chest, fingers now running idly through his hair and dissolving the glitchy buzzing with every stroke.

 No words are exchanged, just as silent as the last time it happened. But this time, Ash feels like he can rest.

─── ⋅☆⋅ ───

𝗮/𝗻: this chapter's a lil short but i needed to get my descriptive angst mood out of me so i can actually write ☆ bk

𝗻𝗼𝘁𝗲: any trauma described does not come from a first-hand point of view, and thus may contain inaccuracies. additionally, i do not imply that any ccs have experienced this as i do not have access to that information. this is simply my au :')

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 810