Darkstache Mini-Stories

Story Eleven

I wanted to thank each and every one of you for the little comments you leave on my chapters, they make me so unbelievably happy :')
Okay anyway here's a story written in first person, which I never do anymore. The entire thing is based off of a really shitty experience I had where I just kinda stopped feeling for a while, so the warnings are for disassociation, a little catatonia, and sadness in general.
"Wil."
A familiar ring, the tone of three pitches, the smell of rain, the feeling of cold, freezing cold. But not disruptive, comforting.
"Wilford."
Black eyes, shimmering in dim lamplight, warm breath against his face - against my face. I look around the room, torn to shreds. Pillows, clothes, glass, makeup, boxes, all scattered across the floor.
"Please, look at me."
The tone in their voice, it's soft, almost coddling.
"You have to look at me."
More cold, this time on my cheeks. It's so soothing, I can't help but lean into the touch, but everything around me continues to ring as I struggle to keep my eyes open, focused on the one in front of me.
"Eyes open, Wil, look at me."
I do as they say, my eyes focusing on them, on the concerned expression burned into their face. We're on the floor, I can feel the ground underneath me. The carpet, I grip it between my fingers, feeling each strand, each string. I see the lights around me, smell their cologne, feel their warm breath and the cold sting of the air against my skin.
"Good, just like that. That's perfect. Keep looking at me, let yourself come back."
I trust them, the softness of their words feel like a blanket around my shoulders. No, no, there is a blanket around my shoulders. I can feel it now, I can feel more and more now. I can feel my clothes against my skin. Pajamas, not my usual wear, no tight pants and suspenders. Boxers. A t-shirt. Is the shirt theirs? I remember them giving it to me.
"Are you back, Wilford?"
I nod. I'm here, in our room. I'm sitting on the floor of our room, next to the bed. The shades are drawn, it's early morning, perhaps five or six. Not lamplight. The sun is slowly rising outside our window, that's the light I see, beside the red and blue that surround them.
"I-I'm...Here."
My voice is a whisper, I feel as if I'll break it if I speak any louder. Finally, a smile, a genuine smile from them. I could melt into that smile. They wrap their arms around me, pulling me into their lap and allowing me to hide my face in their shoulder.
"Thank god..."
They start to rock me in their arms, slowly, back and forth, a soothing motion that starts to calm my brain enough for me to close my eyes once again. My arms hurt, my legs do too...Had I fallen from the bed? Had they caught me before I hit the floor?
"Darki?"
They look up, eyes tracing over my face, black tar streaming down their cheeks, smile as wide as it could ever be.
"You're safe. You had a nightmare, but you're safe..."
I'm shocked for a moment that they knew what I would ask, but I know this has happened before. They must be used to the idea of it, must know every word I will say, every answer to my questions.
I don't speak again. They continue to rock me in their arms, silently letting tears fall down their cheeks. I feel my shirt get damp as they lay their head against my shoulder, and I simply sigh as I start to relax into the feeling of comfort.
"...Thank god you're safe."