Fear Itself // Kis-My-Ft2
Fear Itself
Nikaido/Senga
PG, 399 words, post-apocalyptic?
A/N: Prompt: fear of the dark. Title harkens to the FDR quote.
Nikaido could hear Senga whimpering in the darkness in the next bed, another one of his nightmares. They'd gotten fewer and farther in between as time went on - or else Senga had learned to control himself better, Nikaido wasn't sure which - as they'd all grown more and more used to life after the Shattering. But Nikaido would always be able to recognize the sound of Senga's fear no matter how much time had passed.
He was afraid, too. He was terrified. He was even more terrified of the darkness, of everything, than Senga. Of the two of them, Senga was the brave one, the one who always smiled and squared his shoulders and faced dangers head-on. It had been Senga's courage (and, to properly give credit where it was due, his naivete) that had kept the two of them alive in the first days after the world had fallen asunder. It might've been Nikaido who had the connections to this refuge point, but it was Senga who'd kept them moving by daylight and moonlight and starlight until they'd arrived, shaking and hollow-eyed from the carnage they'd passed, but still alive.
More than any of the horrors they'd seen, though, Nikaido was terrified of the knowledge that Senga was afraid. Grabbing and twisting a fistful of his covers in reflective heartbreak, he closed his eyes and tried to block out the sounds Senga was making. Tomorrow, in the morning, when Senga crept out of bed early to wash away the tear tracks on his face before Nikaido could see them, Nikaido would hunch down into his covers and have a hearty wallow in self-disgust. Tomorrow he would berate himself for being a weak, worthless, good-for-nothing coward. Tomorrow, he'd try to make it up to Senga with a million small kindnesses, a thousand trivial touches.
Tonight, however, tonight he'd shrink down into himself, shut his ears and his heart to Senga's sobs, feign sleep, and try to convince himself that Senga wouldn't be uttering out loud these desperate little mewls of fear if he wasn't secretly hoping that Nikaido would go to him and love him as he'd done before the world had shattered. Because Nikaido was afraid of everything. Nikaido was afraid of the way the world had changed, and Nikaido was afraid of Senga's fear, and Nikaido was afraid of the power he held over Senga's fear.
Nikaido/Senga
PG, 399 words, post-apocalyptic?
A/N: Prompt: fear of the dark. Title harkens to the FDR quote.
Nikaido could hear Senga whimpering in the darkness in the next bed, another one of his nightmares. They'd gotten fewer and farther in between as time went on - or else Senga had learned to control himself better, Nikaido wasn't sure which - as they'd all grown more and more used to life after the Shattering. But Nikaido would always be able to recognize the sound of Senga's fear no matter how much time had passed.
He was afraid, too. He was terrified. He was even more terrified of the darkness, of everything, than Senga. Of the two of them, Senga was the brave one, the one who always smiled and squared his shoulders and faced dangers head-on. It had been Senga's courage (and, to properly give credit where it was due, his naivete) that had kept the two of them alive in the first days after the world had fallen asunder. It might've been Nikaido who had the connections to this refuge point, but it was Senga who'd kept them moving by daylight and moonlight and starlight until they'd arrived, shaking and hollow-eyed from the carnage they'd passed, but still alive.
More than any of the horrors they'd seen, though, Nikaido was terrified of the knowledge that Senga was afraid. Grabbing and twisting a fistful of his covers in reflective heartbreak, he closed his eyes and tried to block out the sounds Senga was making. Tomorrow, in the morning, when Senga crept out of bed early to wash away the tear tracks on his face before Nikaido could see them, Nikaido would hunch down into his covers and have a hearty wallow in self-disgust. Tomorrow he would berate himself for being a weak, worthless, good-for-nothing coward. Tomorrow, he'd try to make it up to Senga with a million small kindnesses, a thousand trivial touches.
Tonight, however, tonight he'd shrink down into himself, shut his ears and his heart to Senga's sobs, feign sleep, and try to convince himself that Senga wouldn't be uttering out loud these desperate little mewls of fear if he wasn't secretly hoping that Nikaido would go to him and love him as he'd done before the world had shattered. Because Nikaido was afraid of everything. Nikaido was afraid of the way the world had changed, and Nikaido was afraid of Senga's fear, and Nikaido was afraid of the power he held over Senga's fear.