#gaz.rply

kyle lay flat on his back, staring up at the ceiling like it might start telling him bedtime stories if he looked long enough.

it didn’t.

he huffed through his nose, chest rising with another frustrated breath as he turned his head to glance at the red, glaring numbers of the clock on his nightstand.

1:30AM.

“fuckin’ hell…” he muttered under his breath, voice thick with exhaustion that refused to do what it was supposed to.

sleep never came easy on base—but tonight it felt impossible. he tossed, turned, flipped his pillow, kicked off his blanket, dragged it back on, shifted onto his side, then his other. nothing helped. it wasn’t the mattress, or the hum of the vents, or the occasional creak of the old building.

it was the empty space beside him.
it was toby’s absence.

kyle missed the heat of him, the way their legs tangled together automatically, the way his boyfriend would mumble something half-incoherent right before knocking out cold. he missed how safe it felt to be curled around toby, like whatever chaos they’d lived through during the day could be pushed aside until morning.

the bed was too big without him.
and too fucking cold.

kyle rolled onto his stomach, burying his face into his pillow with a muffled groan. his hands reached across the sheets, still hoping for something warm to hold, but only met empty cotton.

enough.

fifteen minutes of this shit was too long already. quietly—carefully—he slid out from under the blankets, wincing when the floor bit at his bare feet. the corridor was dim and dead quiet, base winding down into the dead hours of night, and kyle padded softly through it like he wasn’t about to do something that would earn him a dozen teasing remarks tomorrow.

he stopped at toby’s door, heart beating just a little faster than he’d like to admit, and lifted a hand to knock—soft and tentative.

three little taps. quiet. hopeful. needy.
"...toby?" he whispered, just barely audible, like he wasn’t sure if he was hoping for a response or dreading one.

(dont feel pressured to reply to this hahaha i just thought of it and made it fifteen mins ago)

- @ask-gaz

A month off base had been too long of a time in regard to how accustomed Toby had gotten to being so comfortable (Kyle would say he’s spoiled. Toby would just nod along in agreement).

Base was so vastly different to the warmth of his apartment, was so much more unkind, lacking the genuine feeling a place he much preferred to call home did. It lacked that truly domestic feeling him and Kyle had built in a month and his room lacked a guarantee to have his boyfriend huddled up into his side before bed.

Toby didn’t sleep well either on base after they got back, also found his bed was just too big and too empty whenever he set his head on his pillow to clock out for the night. He near mourned Kyle’s missing presence every night he had to sleep without him now.

Tonight was no different.

Hours of tossing and turning had passed before Toby donned one of Kyle’s hoodies that he’d stolen borrowed from him in the desperate hopes that he’d be able to burrow into the fibres of that hoodie, detect the last bit of warmth and affection in its material and finally be able to rest.

It worked, kind of. Kyle’s scent had lingered on that material and Toby miraculously dozed off with his nose buried in the neck of the hoodie, breathing in what little bits of his boyfriend he could.

But it was just that, a doze. A bit of clothing couldn’t compare to having his actual boyfriend at his side so Toby dozed.

He had no trouble hearing the carefully quiet knocks at his door, had no trouble discerning who it was either.

With a soft rustle of his sheets, he was up and walking with a gentle smile he refused to acknowledge, a soft buzzing starting up and slowly growing in his chest as he opened his door to see who was on the other side, like he didn’t already know.

Kyle looked as disheveled as he could in a domestic sense, dark circles under his eyes indicating a desperation for sleep that Toby heavily related to.