Archive of Our Own ^beta

Living with Chibita was…different.  It was weird.  Not bad, it was just different.  Karamatsu had to get used to sleeping in a single futon.  The first couple nights he had to take the couch and a blanket since Chibita didn’t have anything extra for him, but Chibita bought him his own futon pretty quick.  Sleeping alone was colder, but roomier.  It was definitely quieter.  Weird, but not bad.  Different. 

Besides his own arrangements, he had to get used to Chibita’s many idiosyncrasies.  Karamatsu (and everyone else) had known Chibita was weird in a lot of ways, but there apparently were still many layers of weird he’d never seen.  He’d already been prepared for Chibita’s lack of modesty and lack of common manners (he knew Chibita was trying, but thinking of others in his house didn’t seem to come naturally), but there were definitely things that surprised him.  Like the boxes.  He thought they might have been food supplies for the cart and while some of them were, the rest were—

“Hmm Chibita, do you need me to take this out?” He’d picked up a box full of old plastic containers, milk jugs and margarine tubs and water bottles.  All clean and empty and piled into a box by the door.

“What? No!” Chibita had rushed over and snatched the box away.  “I can use these!”

Karamatsu squinted.  “Ehm.  They’re garbage. Chibita, what could you possibly—?”

“Leftovers!” he said.  He looked down into the box, furrowing his brow in thought.  “And uh, vases? And water bottles for when it’s hot, and—“ he pulled out a tab that once closed a bag of bread “—organizing I think.  Lots of things.”  He looked back up at Karamatsu confidently.  “Not garbage yet, I can still get a few more miles outta all this stuff!  Don’t gotta waste it yet!”

Reflecting on it later, Karamatsu assumed that made sense for a kid that grew up in the dump to be resourceful with garbage.  Still, he knew Chibita had enough money now to afford actual Tupperware and vases and water bottles.  And still Chibita meticulously washed every used container and tossed it in a box full of plenty of others just like it. 

There were other boxes too, small ones squirreled away, where Karamatsu would find lighters and toothbrushes and packets of gum.  Small things, new things.  He asked if they were emergency kits once and Chibita got very evasive.  He said a lot of “uh”s and some drawn out “um”s and waved his hand at him and said it really wasn’t important and hey! why are you snooping in my stuff? And then he’d threatened Karamatsu with a ladle and told him to knock it off.  One day he came back with some groceries and Karamatsu saw him tense up and glance around and stuff some things from his pocket into the back of a drawer. He asked him about it again and Chibita jumped and snapped at him.

“It’s nunya!  I just—“ he glanced back at the drawer, looking very tense and very conflicted.  He let out his breath, very steady, very controlled, and looked back towards Karamatsu.  He didn’t meet his eyes.  “I’ll take it back.  Soon.  Tomorrow. It’s fine, I always take it back.  It just helps to take it.” Chibita shrugged then, trying to look nonchalant but only managing a special look of nervous. 

“Chibita, did you—?”

Chibita opened the drawer and shoved the filched item into Karamatsu’s hand with more speed and force than was entirely necessary.  “There. I don’t even want it.  You can take it back right now if you want, but it doesn’t matter.  I was going to take it back anyway.”  He started putting his bagged groceries away hurriedly.  “It ain’t your business, but whatever.  I gotta get the stand ready.” He’d pushed past Karamatsu with half the groceries still unpacked and headed out soon after with his supplies for the night.  He never met Kara’s eyes.

Even things like that, even though Karamatsu had to stealthily return a tiny bottle of mascara to a store he’d never been to before, things like that were manageable.  They weren’t bad, just different.  The dozens of cats that crowded around Chibita’s door every morning: different.  Doing his own dishes and helping Chibita clean house:  different.  Saving every potentially reusable container that came into the house: different.  Every new odd thing that came from living in Chibita’s care, he felt, was manageable.

Everything except the screaming.

It happened one of the first nights he had the futon.  He still hadn’t gotten used to sleeping alone in the quiet, with the only other warm body halfway across the room, but he was getting there.  It had taken him a very long time to start drifting off, his head filled with thoughts of brothers, of debts, of applications, of failures, of next steps, of—

And Chibita had started screaming.

Karamatsu snapped awake, bolted upright and pulled himself halfway across the room to his friend in a split second. His eyes were barely open yet but his pulse had already jumped to a race pace in fear.  His head whipped around trying to find an intruder, a danger, but all there was was Chibita.   Chibita, thrashing about, breaths coming heavily, his eyes squinted shut and the most terrifying expression of desperation and fear tangling up his face.  He must have still been asleep but…

“Ch-chibita,” he reached out a tentative hand.  “A-are you ok, are you—“

He let out another scream, grating and high and terrified.  Karamatsu flinched away, mumbling “Chibi, chi-chibita, chibita, ch-ch—“ What was he supposed to do here? What can you do while you watch someone throw their arms up around their face and scratch and scratch and writhe and whimper and cry and oh god there’s blood—

“Chibita!” Karamatsu tore Chibita’s hands from his face, gnarled up in angry claws that had managed to slice thin lines of blood across his face and pinned them down beside his head.  God this was, this was terrible. He watched Chibita, still looking pained and afraid but slowing down, as he squirmed beneath him.  Slowly, it seemed to pass.  His breaths caught up to him, his brow untwisted itself from that fearful look, his arms gradually went limp under Karamatsu’s weight, and he was left just looking… tired.  Very, very tired. 

Karamatsu carefully sat up, letting go of his wrists.  He realized that Chibita had been asleep through the entire ordeal.  And he still was.  Karamatsu stared at him for a while, worried that he would start up again, until he was certain he wouldn’t be moving any time soon.  He leaned over with a gentle hand to Chibita’s cheek.  Red lines cut across his rough cheeks, accented with the scabbing scratches he’d inflicted on himself.  He noticed they seemed to be angled the same way as the other, more permanent, lines on his face.  Gently, carefully, he traced the lines, new and old, with his thumb.  Was this… was this normal for him? Did this happen that much and for that long that he had permanent scars?

The night felt even longer after that.  Now his head was filled with thoughts of Chibita, alone and scared every few nights, flailing around on the floor, scratching his face, screaming and crying and sweating and afraid.  He thought about why and about how long and about what he’d just witnessed for hours until he was finally able to sleep.

That, that was not just different.  That was definitely bad.

But morning came and Chibita seemed fine.  If he noticed the new scratches on his face, he didn’t comment on them.  In fact, he acted the same as he had for the past few mornings.  Karamatsu decided maybe it was fine, just a bad nightmare, and he didn’t bring it up.

Then it happened again.  A few weeks later, after Karamatsu had nearly committed to the idea that he’d just dreamed the whole interaction himself.  He awoke to screaming.

Again, he was up and across the room in seconds.  The air was heavy as for the second time he hesitated, watching Chibita cry helpless and afraid as he thrashed around in his futon.  This time though, he knew what was coming.  He hugged Chibita tight to himself, both to keep him restrained and to, maybe, convey to him in  whatever terrible dream he was having that he was really safe.  Someone was here for him.  Wait, no on second thought maybe restraining him like this would panic him more.  Shit. He didn’t let go, though, as Chibita continued to squirm and cry out, for fear that he’d end up hurting himself as soon as he did. 

Chibita’s arms try to jerk away, his head whipped around, his hips twisted around beneath him and his legs began to flail and oh god this was so much worse than the last night.  This was a terrible idea.  Shakily, he held on to him and waited for it to pass, but he felt disgusting.  It felt so completely wrong to be restraining him like this, even if to protect him.  He felt like he was hurting him, he was making it worse, Chibita was afraid because of him, he—

Chibita stilled suddenly and he gasped sharply.  Slowly, Karamatsu lowered him back down to the futon and let go.  At least he was finally back aslee—no. His eyes were open.  Chibita stared up at him, still choking out shuddering post-cry breaths, completely small and still.  “What… What’re you…?” His gaze floated around Karamatsu, as if he still wasn’t awake enough to focus he eyes. 

“S-sorry,” Karamatsu mumbled.  “I was trying to, um.  You were having a… bad dream.”  As if ‘bad dreams’ regularly reduced people to tears and screaming and clawing at their own faces.  “I only… wanted to make sure you were safe.  Uhm, d-didn’t hurt yourself.”

“Hurt my—… What?”  Chibita looked around himself slowly, his breathing slowly returning to normal. 

“Last time, you hurt yourself.  Um, scratches,” he mimicked the movement, “and you were rolling around in a dangerous kind of way.”  He shifted where he sat.  “Do you… remember what happened?”

Chibita looked a lot more lucid now, and was slowly starting to focus.  “Remember? Uh.”  He looked down at himself, then slowly sat up and looked around the room.  “No? I feel like I just ran a mile or something.”  He rubbed his cheek absently with the palm of his hand.  “Uhmm, I guess I had a bad dream?  I don’t remember anything though.  Just.  It feels like I did.” His hands plopped down into his lap and he looked over at Karamatsu nervously.  “Has that been happening a lot? Like, uh—oh, shit!” His eyes widened with realization.  “I woke you up, didn’t I? Shit, I’m—I’m sorry.  I guess—was I loud?”

Karamatsu had a feeling Chibita was getting upset about the exact wrong part of this whole ordeal.  “Ch-Chibita!” he squeaked, then struggled to smooth his voice down to his usual tenor.  “D-do not worry about me.  You are the one to worry over!  Ah… did you not know about this?  That you… Hm…”  He struggled to find the right words.  “You were screaming like you were being attacked.  And, rolling around and scratching yourself and kicking and…” he trailed off.

Chibita slowly pulled his knees to his chest.  He stared down just over his knees and began to pick at a spot on his arm, slowly, absently.  He was silent for a beat, then, “I was?  Doing all that screaming and stuff?”

Karamatsu nodded even though Chibita was looking the other way.

Again, he was quiet as he scratched at his arm.  “I guess I knew about some of that.  I have dreams like that sometimes.  Where I wake up scared as hell and stuff.  Usually don’t remember them.” He stopped picking at his arm and scrubbed his palm against his cheek again instead.  “Sometimes I do.  I knew about the scratching.  ‘S not like I can stop it though.  It just happens.”  His voice was small and soft in a way Karamatsu didn’t think he’d ever heard.  He scooted a little closer.

“What are the dreams about?” he asked, trying to keep his voice as low and soft as Chibita’s.

Chibita looked away, across the room.  “Y’know.  The usual. Being chased or falling or some shit.  Normal stuff.”

Karamatsu narrowed his eyes.  Whatever it was making Chibita scream and claw at himself like that probably wasn’t ‘normal stuff.’ He knew he really shouldn’t pry, especially with someone as private as Chibita, but maybe if he knew more about what was going on, he could actually help.  “I have never seen nightmares get that bad for someone.”  Chibita tensed.  “Would there be something else causing them?  Maybe something you ate, or—?”

“Nah.” Chibita cut him off.  “It just happens.  Don’ know why.”  He pushed his comforter down and started to stand.  “Sorry I woke you up with all that.  I can get you earplugs tomorrow.” He was still looking away from him.  “You should get some sleep now while you can though.”
                “Are you not going to?”

Chibita shrugged with that nervous attempt at nonchalance again.  “Naw. Might as well stay up, shower or something.  I’m all sweaty and gross.” He picked his way across the dark room.  “Night, Karaboy.”

“Goodnight,” he called back uncertainly. He doubted this would be the last time this happened, but Chibita had shut himself up again like he was wont to do whenever Karamatsu got too close to learning something important and private. He doubted that Chibita would budge. So, he crawled back to his futon and buried himself beneath the comforter and tried to fall asleep again.

He didn’t sleep for the rest of the night.