𝔊𝔥𝔬𝔰𝔱 𝔬𝔣 𝔰𝔬𝔩𝔡𝔦𝔢𝔯𝔰

Author's Note: I don't know if anyone else can relate to this, but sometimes my anxiety/mental health gets so bad that I can't even sleep in my own bed. That's what inspired this and I hope you enjoy! I've been on and off writing fanfiction for a decade now, but it's been awhile, so forgive me for how rambley and short this is. Also, the title kind of reads like a 2000s metalcore song title, so ignore that.

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The light from the digital alarm clock shined directly into your eyes as you squinted to look at the numbers.

It felt like it was taunting you, sitting high on it's place on the nightstand as a witness to your restlessness.

You watched the numbers change for what felt like the hundredth time tonight and sighed.

It was now 2:52 a.m. and you were still wide awake.

You had tried everything.

You tossed and turned, hoping you just hadn't found a comfortable position yet. You flipped your pillow around so it was cold. You even tried some calming breathing exercise your high school gym teacher had taught you, which for some reason you remembered after all these years.

Nothing was working.

Another thing that definitely wasn't helping with your growing frustration was the fact that your boyfriend—Noah—was fast asleep behind you, his arm draped over your middle and his breath tickling your neck with every little snore.

Him being out cold wasn't too shocking, considering he had just returned from Bad Omens' latest European tour a few hours prior. Between being fatigued from jetlag and preforming, he was dead to the world for the next few days—and he deserved that rest.

It didn't make you any less envious though.

Despite his tiredness, you two still did your post-tour routine of getting takeout, properly catching up after not seeing each other in a few weeks, and cuddling on the couch while a movie played quietly on the TV in the background—at least until poor Noah could barely keep his eyes open.

That's how you ended up here, your boyfriend next to you in bed—basically comatose—and you about ready to break your alarm clock.

You didn't mean to, but during your dinner conversation earlier, where Noah told you everything that happened while he was away, you left out some details when it was your turn to do that same.

You conveniently didn't mention the fact that your anxiety had been particularly bad the past couple of weeks, not wanting to worry him after he just got home.

There wasn't much he could do even if you told him. There wasn't a reason or a quick fix. It was just there. Lingering dread that sometimes became overwhelming out of nowhere, leaving you feeling feverish and like a heavy weight was sitting on your chest that made breathing hard.

And no, it wasn't because Noah was touring. Sure, you missed him like crazy—as would any significant other if their partner was half way across the world for a month—but you could also handle being on your own. You were an adult at the end of the day, a very neurotic one, but still.

Your mental health just seemed to fluctuate in severity as it pleased, and this time it chose to take a dip while Noah was gone. Simple as that.

You didn't tell him about the anxiety, or how it got worse in the evening, or how you spent most nights anywhere but your bed.

Sometimes you slept on the couch, either on the one in the living room or the one in Noah's studio, usually opting for the one in the studio because being in his space made you feel just a little bit better. Other nights, the tiled kitchen floor or the carpeted hallway outside your shared bedroom seemed appealing.

It was a quirky habit that your boyfriend was well aware of, and he would often join you in your weird sleeping spots when he caught you doing it. That's exactly why you were not waking and seeking comfort from him right now. He needed actual rest, in an actual bed, not in whatever uncomfortable place you needed to sleep in to quiet your spiraling thoughts.

As much as you wanted to be close to Noah, you needed rest too, and you wouldn't be getting any if you stayed on this mattress.

Carefully, you lifted his arm up and off you by his wrist without causing him to stir. You then, ever so slowly, grabbed your pillow and the throw blanket you had been using, before sliding onto the floor, making a sad little makeshift bed on the rug. Still close to Noah, but now in a spot where you maybe would be able to finally doze off.

The rug was colder than the bed and your hip dug a little uncomfortably into the floor, but this was exactly what you needed because even after just a few minutes you could feel that familiar floating sensation that comes right before you fall into a dream.

Unfortunately, just as you were about to tip over the edge into sleep, a barely audible mumble woke you right back up.

"Baby...?" Noah's tired sounding voice called for you.

You could hear him run his hand over the sheets in search of you. When he didn't find what he was looking for, he said your name, clearly a bit more alert now.

"Down here," you reply.

There was some shuffling and the creaking of mattress springs before Noah's head popped over the edge, looking down at you.

You suppressed a laugh. He looked like a mess, but oh so cute.

It was dark in your room, but your vision had adjusted somewhat in the time you've been awake, so you could see his heavy lidded eyes, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion, his hair sticking up in different places, all of his features were illuminated by the blue light of your alarm clock.

"Why are you on the floor—" his question was interrupted by a yawn. "Did I push you off in my sleep? Oh, baby, I'm sorry. We really should look into getting a King bed—"

"Noah, you're fine. I'm on the floor by choice." He gave you a even more confused look. "Anxiety, babe." That seemed to answer his question as he mouthed an 'oh'.

He then disappeared and you figured he was going back to sleep, but a few seconds later the mattress creaked again and the soft padding of footsteps on hardwood could be heard.

"Scoot."

You looked up. Your boyfriend now stood next to you, towering over your spot on the floor, holding his pillow.

"What? No, Noah—"

"Scoot over."

You hesitated, but did as he asked with a huff, moving so you were almost partially under the bed.

Noah wasted no time, carelessly throwing his pillow next to yours and laying down. You offered him part of the throw blanket, but it did little to cover his long limbs.

"Noah, seriously, get back in the bed," you urged him, speaking through your teeth, trying to be stern.

He just grinned at you. "Nope," he said, popping the 'p' for emphasis—and to annoy you.

"Babe, your back is going to hurt by morning—"

"Don't care," he interrupted smuggly as he wrapped his arms around you before continuing, "I've been away from you for five weeks—five whole weeks, babe. I'm not spending my first night home in bed by myself."

"You're ridiculous, you know that?"

"And you needing to sleep on the floor isn't also a little ridiculous?" He was teasing, he knew why you did it, but even you had admitted before it was kind of a silly thing to do.

You groaned at that, burying your face into his tattooed chest. "Yeah, okay, whatever. Got me there."

He sighed contently, pulling you even closer and swinging one of his legs over your hip.

You both stayed quiet for a few minutes before Noah broke the silence, a bit more serious now.

"Why didn't you tell me you were feeling off earlier tonight?" he asked softly while running the tips of his fingers up and down your spine.

You shrugged in his grasp. "You just got home, you were tired, you were expressing your own anxiety about being away. You didn't need my nonsense on top of that."

He shut that thought down real quick. "Baby, your mental health isn't 'nonsense'," he corrected you, giving you a look. "I want to help you whenever I can, even if that 'help' is just me laying on the floor with you."

"I know, but now you're probably going to get a bad night's rest—"

"And that's okay. You need me—you've needed me—and I wasn't here, but I'm here now."

You smile at him, his barely open eyes meeting yours. You leaned in and kiss him briefly on his soft lips before pulling away. "You're the best boyfriend."

"Hm, I am? Well you can tell me all about that in the morning, but right now we both need sleep. So sleep, I've got you," he said before yawning again as he fought to stay awake.

"Okay, okay. Goodnight, Noah." You give him another quick peck on the corner of his mouth before snuggling closer to him—if that were even possible.

At that, you finally started drifting off after struggling to do so all night, the last thing you heard being a quiet 'night' coming from Noah as he tucked your head under his chin, keeping you close as you two fell asleep, both of you ignoring the fact that you would be waking up sore.

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