His Wilted Flower; 2440 words.
Isak’s insomnia flares up and Even tries to help.


Even knew Isak had trouble sleeping and that stress made the insomnia worse, and while he couldn’t do anything about the source of Isak’s stress he figured he could at least help his boy get some sleep.  Since his diagnosis Even had tried about a dozen different techniques to help his own sleep, so he had some ideas about what to do for Isak.

Since the nosebleed incident a few weeks ago – which Even’s heart still stopped for a second if he thought about – Even had made it his mission to help his boyfriend.

Step one had been introducing the ‘no technology in the bed after 10PM’ rule, which Isak had balked at initially but tried nonetheless after Even explained that the light and all the stimulation wasn’t exactly conducive to a good night’s sleep.

Step two was wind down time, which Isak actually seemed to enjoy.  Instead of doing his homework until the small hours of the morning when exhaustion was too heavy to ignore, they both put all their school stuff away with the laptops and phones at 10.  Wind down time was pretty much just an excuse to lie in bed and cuddle his boyfriend, if Even was honest.

Isak soaked affection up like a touch starved sponge, though, so it was met with no complaints.

They’d lie in whoever’s bed they were spending that night in, cosy under the duvet, murmuring about their day and exchanging lazy touches.  Even’s favourite thing to do was to smooth his fingers over Isak’s curls while Isak talked about his day, occasionally twirling a lock around his fingers and watching it spring back.

Isak, on the other hand, was always all over the map.  He’d trace Even’s facial features, slot their legs together so there wasn’t a single place they weren’t pressed together, and sometimes he’d even blow on the part of Even’s fringe that was adamant to never lie flat.  Even would have protested the last one if it didn’t make Isak’s eyes light up with silent laughter.

It never took long for them to become soft and sleepy, blinking hazily and yawning through their stories.

Sleepy Isak had a special place in Even’s heart.  The way his cheeks would flush just slightly and his eyes would glaze over in a way that reminded Even of lazy afternoons smoking pot and kissing and he would just be so malleable under Even’s touch.

The only problem was that Even always fell asleep before Isak.  He’d lose himself listening to Isak’s breathing and Isak would stroke his face so gently that his eyes couldn’t help but flutter shut.  Cut to hours later when Even would wake up and Isak would be lying there watching him or staring up at the ceiling, the soft sleepiness replaced with simple exhaustion.

Even would always mumble an apology that Isak would roll his eyes at, but they’d settle back into a cuddle and Even would try to outlast Isak.  Some nights it worked and he could hear the change in Isak’s breathing and feel Isak’s muscles relax under his hand and he’d know his boy was finally getting some rest, but other nights he would fall asleep rubbing soothing circles against Isak’s back.

Even wasn’t sure what else he could do.


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