Haikyuu imagines

Staying up- Nishinoya

It started with the ceiling.

Or more accurately - the fact that I'd been staring at it for three hours straight, wide awake, exhausted, and dangerously close to crying out of sheer frustration. I'd tried everything: music, breathing exercises, rolling over fifty times, burying myself under blankets, kicking them off, counting backwards from a thousand. Nothing worked.

My chest felt tight. My thoughts wouldn't slow down. My heartbeat was doing this stupid fast thing for absolutely no reason.

And apparently, my last brain cell decided, You know who would stay up with you? Nishinoya.

Bad idea. Terrible idea. Chaotic-gremlin-will-make-you-worse idea.

I called anyway.

He answered on the first ring.

"Y/N?" His voice was groggy but alert, like he'd woken up but was instantly ready to throw hands on my behalf. "Are you okay? Do I need to bring my bat? My shoes? Both? Do I need to fight someone?"

Despite everything, a shaky laugh escaped. "No, no-God, no. Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you."

"You didn't." He yawned loudly enough to contradict himself. "I was awake."

"You definitely weren't."

"Okay, fine, I wasn't. But now I am. What's wrong?"

I hesitated, picking at a loose thread on my pillowcase. "I... can't sleep."

A beat of silence.

Then: "Say no more."

Shuffle. Groan. Muffled thud. Possibly him falling out of bed.

"Noya?"

"Hold on," he mumbled. "I'm locating my dignity."

Another thud.

"I think it rolled under the bed."

I snorted. "You're impossible."

"But you're laughing," he said, and I could hear the smile in his voice - warm and proud and so stupidly sweet it made my eyes sting.

I exhaled slowly. "Sorry. I just... my brain won't shut up."

"Alright," he said, voice softening instantly. "Then let me distract it."

And just like that, he settled in. I heard him flop somewhere - maybe his futon, maybe the floor, maybe both knowing him - followed by the faint rustle of blankets.

"What's keeping you awake?" he asked gently.

Everything. Nothing. All the shit I'd been avoiding thinking about during the day.

I swallowed. "I don't know. Just... overthinking."

"Okay," he said, "then I'll think for you."

"That's not how it works."

"It is tonight."

And somehow - with him - it kind of did.

He talked about the dumbest things at first. A squirrel that chased him on the way home. A comic he found that reminded him of Tanaka. A dream where he learned to fly but only two feet off the ground, so everyone kept tripping over him.

I laughed way more than I meant to.

And when I went quiet, he didn't fill the silence with noise - he filled it with presence.

"You're not alone," he said quietly at one point. "Even when it feels like you are."

My chest tightened.

He must've heard the change in my breathing because he added softly, "I mean it, Y/N. You can call me anytime. Even at 3 AM. Even if you just need to hear someone breathing on the other end."

"You don't have to do that," I whispered.

"I want to."

Something warm settled somewhere deep inside me, curling into a place I didn't realize had been empty.

"Tell me something," he said.

"Like what?"

"Anything. What your room looks like right now. What you had for dinner. What song's stuck in your head. Just talk. I like hearing you talk."

Heat crawled up my neck. "You're being weirdly sweet."

"I am sweet," he protested. "I'm just usually loud about it."

"Are you lying on the floor right now?" I asked.

"...No."

"Noya."

"Okay, yes. But it's comfy! And cold! Cold floors are amazing! Try it."

"I'm not lying on the floor."

"You're missing out."

I smiled into my pillow.

He kept talking, telling stories, making dumb jokes, being dramatic for absolutely no reason. Every so often, he'd drop his voice to that soft tone he only used with people he trusted.

"Still awake?" he whispered once.

"Yeah."

"Okay. Stay with me."

Like I ever wouldn't.

Minutes turned into an hour. An hour turned into two.

At some point, I realized it was getting lighter outside. Sunrise. The blue glow creeping into my room. My eyes felt heavy, warm, soft.

"Noya..." I murmured, voice thick with sleep, "you should go to bed."

"I'm already in bed," he said proudly.

"You're on the floor."

"It's a bed if I declare it a bed."

I huffed a tired laugh.

He heard it. And his voice softened again - that quiet, careful tenderness he hid under all the chaos.

"You sound really tired," he whispered.

"I am."

"Then sleep. I'll stay until you do."

"You don't have to-"

"Y/N." His voice went warm and sure. "I want to be the person you call at stupid o'clock. I want to be the one who stays. Let me stay."

My heartbeat stuttered.

I didn't answer. Not with words.

I just breathed - slow, steady, trusting - and he exhaled softly like that was enough.

"Goodnight," he whispered, and it felt like a promise. "I'll be here."

His breathing became the only sound I heard.

Gentle. Rhythmic. Safe.

And finally - finally - sleep pulled me under.