Caretaker and Whumpee are friends who often sleep in the same bed for whatever reason (comfort, closeness, not being able to afford another one but also not wanting one of them to sleep on the couch). Usually neither of them would wear much. Just their underclothes, or maybe even sleep completely naked, as both of them are prone to overheating.
Then they stop living together, or Whumpee goes away for a while, but when they're re-united and they resume their old set up, Whumpee always stays fully clothed when they sleep next to each other. It's not really that weird of a thing, but Caretaker starts to notice other things are off, too. Whumpee is always tense, they don't cuddle like they used to, Whumpee's eyes suddenly become fixed and alert whenever Caretaker strips off to sleep - just sleep - in their bed.
It's subtle, but the evidence is there. So while Whumpee lies awake at night panicking and re-living things silently in their mind, Caretaker lies awake and wonders if something really bad might have happened while they were gone.
god this is good, the habitual bed sharing between friends, the casual intimacy and little-to-no clothing that was just normal between them. cuddling as they fall asleep, or waking pressed together, someone's hand reached out and resting on the other's hip, face tucked against the back of their shoulder, legs hooked together. it was so... normal. it was routine for them.
and then after this break, after they return to this habit, and things are different. things have changed. it is so clear that whumpee doesn't feel safe anymore, and it's becoming frighteningly clear what they're afraid of. it's not entirely set in stone but... the math adds up. caretaker's heart hurts in their chest with the way whumpee watches them, regards their body and its proximity as a threat.
the fact that they still do this makes me crazy. does whumpee think they have to? do they think they can't ask not to sleep like this anymore, they can't say no? or is it that they really do want this piece of normalcy, this normal, grounding intimacy back, they're just fucked up now in ways they weren't before. are they angry at themself? do they wish they could roll over and bury their face in caretaker's chest like they used to, feel their skin press against that of this friend they trust so much?
it's becoming increasingly untenable. they aren't sleeping well. caretaker is clearly noticing something is wrong. they think... they think they're going to have to talk about it. about what happened. about whumper.