#bro average

The previous night after giving him some sleep aid, it really helped him actually rest. It was nice seeing him actually at peace and not suffering through night terrors. However, the next day he woke up rather groggy. Perhaps that’s what happens when you haven’t slept properly in years, or maybe not. You’re not quite sure. 

You did have to take away all of his energy drinks and hide them away as he had been downing them, but you were a bit concerned when he nearly face planted into his cup of black coffee. You helped him sit back up, rubbing his back as you slide his breakfast in front of him.

“Sleep any better?”

“Mmm-? Mm- mhmm…”

He’s still very spaced out, but looks a lot happier than he was before. If nothing else, his drowsiness is worth it to see him smile and not seem anxious again. You kiss his cheek, and he starts giggling uncontrollably. 

“Oop- you have giggle bitch disease. Silly boy.”

Chase just quietly reaches for you, resting his head on your shoulder and nearly knocking his ball cap off his head. You grab the edge of his chair and drag him close, just for him to hold onto your arm and fall asleep with his head on your shoulder. It is impossible for you to be even jokingly irritated at him, when he’s not only sleeping again, but even through his sleepiness he still seeks you out. You just use your other hand to eat your breakfast, occasionally kissing the top of his cap to hopefully have your love seep into his dreams.

“Sleep well, sweet boy.”

Since his escape from the IRIS facility, Chase has not been resting well. Trapped in that room for days, only stimulated by a ball and the nightmares that greeted him at night. Getting him to sleep has been a process, oftentimes having to wake him multiple times during the night because he starts screaming and throwing the covers off the bed. You’ve tried offering to take him to the doctor to get some sort of a sedative or medication to help, but he seems wary of all medical professionals and is terrified they’ll find him and take him back.

These past few days he hasn’t slept at all, and you can tell he’s more than just sleep deprived. He’s started seeing things that aren’t there and experiencing anxiety attacks on a more frequent basis. But the moment you suggest he go lay down for a little bit, he freaks out and tries to go do something to keep himself awake again. 

At the dinner table, he’s nearly face planted into his soup seven times, and you’ve decided you’ve had enough of watching him torture himself. You went to the doctor the other day and explained the situation, and he seemed understanding and offered to give a mild sleeping medication to start out with, a child’s dosage just to feel things out since Chase can’t come to the office. You pick up your dishes and bring them into the kitchen, grabbing the bottle and taking a deep breath.

You set the bottle on the table in front of Chase, the rattling startling him back awake before staring down at the label. He picks it up with a slurred motion, squinting at it to read it.

“I know you said you can’t be around doctors, so I asked my doctor if he could give me anything for “my” sleeping problems, since an office visit is too much right now. It’s just a children’s dose, so it won’t immediately knock you out. But, it should help you get to sleep and deep enough where you don’t get nightmares.”

Chase looks at you and seems torn between different reactions, but ends up softly smiling up at you.

“I’ll try it, just once. But only if you’re there.”

“Of course I’m going to be! I wouldn’t dare leave you on your own for this. Now, instead of taking swimming lessons in your soup, will you go to bed?”

He looks down at his bowl of soup, and realizes there’s really no point in continuing to try.

“Alright. Let me put it away.”