おやすみ 、おやすみ

          well. yes. but what else was he supposed to say, really? that he woke up and felt foggy all day. that the shadows in the corner of his vision kept teasing him. whispering and whispering until the noise seemed deafening. no this was compeltely on purpose. why?

         because he woke up and got out of bed. pulled away from spirit still sleeping and went to his cold, sterile lab. and sat there. wondering if he should have breakfast or if he should take a scalpel to his stomach and twist until he stopped feeling things. 

          so no. it wasn’t an accident. but it wasn’t entirely his fault either. it was the thoughts. the thoughts that wouldn’t shut up -- wouldn’t leave him alone until he did something about it. 

          so the shattered glass of his coffee ... glass. beaker. whatever ... that laid scattered across the floor told a story louder than he could tell, now. that the burns across his knuckles from where the coffee had splashed back painted a picture. the blood dripping from his fingers -- 

          but he cerntainly couldn’t just say he did that on purpose. that shattering the glass in his own hand relieved some tension, some pain, that he didn’t know how to explain. that the way his eyes flickered to the tray briefly didn’t portray more that he wasn’t willing to tell.

          that his mind still wished he’d chosen that scalpel over breakfast. 

hey @iinsanityiscontagious wake up 

{ @iinsanityiscontagious }

It was a rare day off–the roads too packed with snow for anyone to travel safely–meaning Spirit and Stein could spend a couple extra hours in bed. (Or, well, Spirit could wake up at 6am, get halfway ready for work, realize he didn’t have work, then drag Stein out of his lab and into bed and snuggle him until he stayed put.)

Once Spirit had been satisfied with his sleeping in (Read: the clock had finally ticked past noon), he rolled over in bed, reaching over Stein, and fishing the pack of cigarettes off the nightstand, giving one to Stein, and one to himself, lighting them both, and taking a long drag.

“What’re the plans today, Doc?” He mumbled, smoke blowing out his mouth as he spoke. “I’m fine with doing a whole lot of nothing. And you should be too. We never get time off. Unless you think a dead body’s gonna do more for you than this hot piece of action right here.” Spirit laughed, rolling onto his side, and picking himself up on his forearm, reaching up to push Stein’s hair out of his face, before plucking the cigarette out of his mouth, leaning down to kiss him slowly, and pulling back, handing the cigarette back, and smiling down at him, pinching his cheek.

“How’s the–how’re you feeling?” He asked quietly, features suddenly softening at the question. “It’s–you didn’t sleep last night, huh?”

           snow. what a strange phenomenon -- but with the kishin’s revival could he really question normalcy. nothing was normal anymore.

           that didn’t mean he wasn’t prepared to lose sleep looking into it. or, perhaps it was something else about the weather that had kept him awake in his lab. regardless, before he knew it spirit was coming in early in the morning. half asleep, to drag the mad scientist back to their shared bed.

           though, really, how many times did stein really come to share it with spirit. and when spirit dozed off again, curled up into stein’s side, he still couldn’t find sleep. so he lay there, waiting for spirit to wake up once more.

❝ plans … ? ❞ the doctor asked. olive eyes watching smoke rise to the ceiling. spirit was getting better at that -- stein could almost hear kami in his head. lecturing spirit about how he’d quit smoking and how stein was a bad influence.

           he took a drag of his own cigarette. it wasn’t time to think like that. 

           though, by the time his attention returned to spirit, the other man was pushing his hair from his eyes. laughing at something he’d said that stein had completely missed. thought he pressed forward into the kiss he was granted, he couldn’t help but feel guilty for letting his mind wander. 

           how was he feeling? light. as snow falling to the ground, blanketing everything. cold. numb. but was that the temperature’s fault? or the madness. 

❝ i’m ... having a hard time focusing. ❞ 

           stein admitted, his hand covering spirit’s against his cheek. eyes shifting to the side. what else was he supposed to say? he was struggling. he couldn’t hide that. 

why are u doin this to me