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Nightmare can smell the pain.
He’d nearly written it off, at first— Juniper’s aura had a curious tendency of false negativity. But, Nightmare knows better. It shined dark and bright, in its natural state; Here, it faded dim, a lamp clinging onto its very last embers.
“Juniper, please. Tell me what you need—”
“—I’m fine,” Juniper snaps. He takes a long, shaky breath: Nightmare can feel the displacement of air, as Juniper waves him off. “I’m fine,” he repeats, tone placated into careful neutrality. Nightmare frowns.
That’s… clearly a lie. Nightmare shall forgive it, though. Juniper is one of few who deserves such courtesies.
Nightmare has never felt so helpless.
Truly, how pathetic is he? Juniper had cared for him at his most vulnerable. Watched, fed, guided, and bathed him. And yet, here Nightmare is. Weak and useless. Even the simplest task of comfort seems unreachable: a candle wick drenched in water, refusing to light.
Juniper shifts, and Nightmare readily accepts him into the coolness of his chest. His skull fits like it was made to be tucked into his shoulder. The static is alive: nearly burning, beneath his touch. Juniper doesn’t so much relax as melt into the gentle hand that Nightmare brings to cup his cheek.
The bed frame creaks, as Nightmare leans the two of them back.
It should be a nice night. It isn’t, though. Not with Juniper shaking like a leaf in the wind, in his arms: negativity tasting like fresh iron upon his tongue. He sniffles, and Nightmare can only pull him closer.
“Juniper,” Nightmare mutters into the side of Juniper’s skull. “Please, my star, tell me what I can do for you.”
A moment passes. Nightmare wipes away a cool, staticy tear.
“Um,” Juniper mumbles. He takes another deep breath, and Nightmare trails his other hand across the expanse of his back. He hopes the circles he’s rubbing feel soothing; It had always comforted him, when Juniper had done the same— broken and anguished within his arms. “I don’t— I don’t want to make you do any—”
“—You would not be making me. I may be blind, but I am not inept. Please, if there is something, tell me.”
Even if it would pain him, Nightmare wishes he could see Juniper’s expression; He yearns to see the gentleness in his gaze— how he softens at Nightmare’s voice. And yet, he will have to settle for Juniper’s quiet, resigned sigh. How he nuzzles into Nightmare’s touch. How he seems to finally relax.
“...Tea. I–If you could get me some tea. That would, um, be nice,” Juniper stutters.
Tea. That should be easy enough… he hopes.
Nightmare brushes a quick kiss against Juniper’s temple.
“Do not expect to wait long. I shall return.”
To leave Juniper— it was necessary, for the time being. And yet, it feels momentously difficult. With as much care as he can manage, Nightmare removes himself from Juniper’s grasp. Once standing, Nightmare hesitates for a moment. He reaches to where he knows the blanket once rested, pauses for only a second, and pulls it up to Juniper’s shoulders.
Tea. The kitchen. He simply needs to maneuver himself to the kitchen.
With hand rested against the wall, Nightmare begins the slow trek around Juniper’s apartment.
The layout still feels foreign, despite the daily rounds that Juniper walks him through. He should know better. It feels like a failure, when he still manages to stumble when soft carpet becomes cool tile.
It had been little less than a month. A month since he had lost his sight. A month since he had lost all that he had been. A month since Juniper had taken him in. And, a month where he had been shown nothing but kindness, patience, and respect; Unearned: still present.
To care for the weak— once upon a time, Nightmare would have considered this senseless. If one cannot survive; Then, they cannot survive. Sure, there was some strategy to caring for one that you had put investments into— but the sunk cost fallacy would always settle in the back of his mind.
Alas, Juniper had cared for him. It… was witless and perhaps even idiotic. He was broken. Useless. He had betrayed his word and wrought destruction upon himself. Nightmare could understand actions born of love; He would have done the same— to admit this is simple acceptance of reality.
But, what had Nightmare done to deserve such a blessing?
Juniper had been his light— his guidance. His north star.
Nightmare had been the darkness. The leech. The ugly, disfigured monster waiting down in the depths: ready to pull you down under.
Unconditional. What had he done, to deserve this unconditional understanding?
Nightmare’s hand finally feels the cool chill of countertop.
Tea.
Mug, water, and tea.
Mug was easy enough. The cupboard was right there, after all. Nightmare trails his hands against the wood, slowly opening with only slightly bated breath. He reaches inside, manages to almost knock something over, and succeeds in his mission of obtaining a singular mug.
Nightmare ponders the ceramic, for a moment.
He knows this mug. It’s a dark purple— decent size and shape. It was the mug that had been borrowed to him all that time ago, when he was welcomed into these walls for the very first time. Allowed.
It shall do. And so, Nightmare sets it down by the stove top.
The sink is to the left— it was a small kitchenette. It ‘made do’, as Juniper would say. It fit two people; This had been enough. Nightmare remembers warm nights spent side by side: tea at hand, as meals were brought into existence.
Water. Next is water.
For a brief moment, Nightmare worries that Juniper had moved the kettle somewhere unbeknownst to him. But, it only takes a quick readjustment for his hand to meet the metal. He grasps it, pivots, and gently places it in the sink.
The water trickles down. Using his hearing, he’s able to position the kettle beneath the stream. He waits a moment. And then another.
That should be enough.
He pivots again, resting the kettle back on the stove top. He turns the stove to life. And then, he waits.
Juniper… he should have known, that this flare was inevitable. He’d been working himself— tirelessly. The crashes were more frequent. His breath had been more labored, and his movements slowed like river trapped by dam. And, despite the fact that he had denied it, his pain was clearly worse. He’d cried in his arms, the other night. He’d cited rogue mood swings and old memories; Nightmare now knows that it was something more.
Each and every day, Nightmare imagines tearing a certain Destroyer limb from limb, and line of code by line of code. Each and every day, Nightmare takes a breath, and calms himself.
Revenge is best served cold.
Oh, how sweet it shall be.
Tea. He should locate the tea.
The box is here… somewhere. Nightmare mindlessly pats around the counter until he feels the telltale container. He grabs a tea bag from its depths— the smell of chamomile and juniper overwhelming his senses in an all so pleasant way— and then works on once more finding the mug. It wobbles, as he grabs it.
The kettle whistles.
With mug in one hand, Nightmare uses the other to carefully click off the stove and retrieve the now boiling water.
He pauses.
Usually, Juniper performs the task of pouring. And, on the rare occasion that Nightmare had done it himself (within this past month), he had used a finger as a guide.
The water continues to boil. He takes a breath.
It only burns a little. It is worth it.
With kettle settled back on stovetop and mug safe in hand, Nightmare makes the careful trek back to the bedroom.
“Juniper,” he gently calls out, within the walls of their sanctuary once more. The sheets rustle. Nightmare takes it as the only acknowledgement that Juniper can muster. With newfound confidence, he settles the mug on the closest nightstand table. He walks around the bed, and climbs in on the available side.
Juniper accepts his touch.
Unconditional.
“Thank you,” Juniper mumbles, resting a hand over Nightmare’s. He presses deep into his ribcage: the resting place of his soul. “M’sorry,” he adds, even quieter.
Nightmare hums against the back of his skull. He allows his tendrils to pull Juniper even closer; He shall keep him safe.
“There is nothing to apologize for, Juniper. The tea shall be there, when you are ready.”
Juniper finally relaxes. Nightmare finds himself relaxing as well.