Post Olympic

Sleep

uh?? merry Christmas and happy Channukah and yeet yeet holidays? 

also would yalls be interested in merch

anyway, I'm all out of inspiration for every other story I'm writing, 

MUSIC: Coastline - Hollow Coves

-rabid

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-FENRIR-

I've found out the hard way that I wake up every single time Nico moves or makes any noise at night. I think I'm a little paranoid. I don't fall asleep until she's asleep, and if she even goes to roll over, I'm wide awake again. Tonight has been almost scary. She just rolled over, so I'm awake again, but it's three in the morning and I haven't been woken up yet. Maybe I just suddenly stopped, or maybe she's sleeping different tonight, whatever it is, it feels wrong.

She normally shifts to her back at midnight, facing my chest at one, her arms around me at three and then sleeps soundly until six, when she wakes up. I wake up a little for every one. She normally mumbles a little as she's waking up, but I open an eye to make sure she's okay and then fall immediately back asleep.

I slip back asleep as her arms hold my chest close to hers. I can feel her breathing against me, it's amazing, this other small adorable human that loves me, that I love, I mean, it's baffling.

About a half-hour later, I'm jostled back awake by something. I peel my eyes open even though they're protesting it, and I look around. Nico doesn't look well. She looks sick to her stomach, but asleep.

Shit.

"Nico, hey," I put my hand on her shoulder but she flinches away. I don't quite know what to do, so I sit for a second.

"Mnnnnhhgnn," she opens her mouth then slams it shut and I know she's far from awake. "CAR!" She starts screaming suddenly. I reach out and bar my arms across her shoulders, holding her back against my chest. She screams louder. "CAR, CAR, MOVE, CAR," Sweat drips down her neck and I can feel it against my skin.

"Nico, shhh, you're okay," I hold her tighter when she starts to try to move around. Her hands grab my forearms, and I moan under my breath when her nails tear into my skin. She starts to breathe harder and harder and harder. I hold her there so that she can't hurt herself. I know about the scratches up her legs and sides from these, she tries to hide them at practice, but, when you're looking for something, you'll see it.

"SNAKE," she reaches forward, then throws her arms up over her eyes, flinching and knocking me backward, my head hits the backboard, but I sit back up, blinking away the pain. I hold her still. She's stiff, immobile. Inanimate.

"Nico?" I mumble.

"Let me go." She growls. "LET ME GO, FENRIR." I pull my arms away from her, moving back. "Get back."

"Nico?" I lean over to look at her. She's sitting on the edge of the bed, looking at the blood under her fingernails.

"I'm going to be sick," She stands up and makes quick work of the space between her and the door of the bathroom. I get up after her, using my long legs to make it to the door fast, but not fast enough. She locks it.

I hear Nico throw up on the other side, then I hear the sink. She's washing her hands, over and over, she washes her hands six or seven times, from how many times the faucet turns on and off.

"Nico," I knock lightly on the door. "Are you okay?"

"I need to go back to the rink, Fenrir,"

"Nico,"