[ There aren’t any dreams - or at least none that Carver can remember - but he snaps awake before long, tense and aware, adrenaline flooding his system - proof enough of a nightmare, or some unconscious tick, some threat or another, that jolted him back to the moment. There’s nothing, though. Just the room and it’s four walls and - presumably - Gold somewhere out there. Doing whatever it is he does at this hour.
Carver drags a hand through his hair, feeling nothing but empty. He doesn’t like the size of the room, how things loom in the shadows. Instinct says threats are hiding there, that he needs to control his environment and shut that down. Eliminate any hiding places that could be used against him.
Sometimes he just can’t sleep. Sometimes he crams himself into closets or underneath beds because that’s simpler, easier to control, but there are things you just don’t do around other people.
That’s one of them.
He lies on his side for a while, blade in hand. Trying to control his breathing, to settle. It doesn’t work.
Great. He gets up without a word, cat-quiet, and decides he’ll just leave. Go wander out in the dark for a while. But of course Gold’s still up, because fuck Carver and his perfectly reasonable desire to bolt before he starts pacing like a dog in a too-small cage, and - sewing, it looks like.
Huh.
Carver stills. It’s late. And he is so fucking tired. ]
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Carver drags a hand through his hair, feeling nothing but empty. He doesn’t like the size of the room, how things loom in the shadows. Instinct says threats are hiding there, that he needs to control his environment and shut that down. Eliminate any hiding places that could be used against him.
Sometimes he just can’t sleep. Sometimes he crams himself into closets or underneath beds because that’s simpler, easier to control, but there are things you just don’t do around other people.
That’s one of them.
He lies on his side for a while, blade in hand. Trying to control his breathing, to settle. It doesn’t work.
Great. He gets up without a word, cat-quiet, and decides he’ll just leave. Go wander out in the dark for a while. But of course Gold’s still up, because fuck Carver and his perfectly reasonable desire to bolt before he starts pacing like a dog in a too-small cage, and - sewing, it looks like.
Huh.
Carver stills. It’s late. And he is so fucking tired. ]
Can’t sleep, huh. Guess it’s going around.