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Nightmares can be commonly associated with awakening with a jolt, a scream, a rasped cry of shock, sweat pooling around your body.
Kiraiu does not make a single sound when he startles awake, breaths heavy and eyes blurry, moist. Slowly, he focuses on his surroundings. Reminds himself he's awake now, he's safe. He notes the futon beneath him (damp with sweat), the cold night air permeating through the walls, the wooden floor and ceiling. The breathing of his companions-
his companions, wait-
Flashes of his nightmare slither back to him, cloaking him in cold, unwelcoming darkness.
His shoulders shake. He sits up slowly.
Crimson spatter on green grass. Empty maroon eyes he once stared fondly into. Dirtied yellow hair, a torn and ruined boar mask. Red. Red, red, red.
Correcting his breathing takes time, Kiraiu struggles with it- struggles with the constricting of his throat, the sharp, stinging pain in his chest, the hot feverish swirl of warmth across his forehead. His eyes burn. Tears creep to the surface, he wipes them away hurriedly, sniffling. Breathe, breathe, breathe. His yukata clings to his damp skin and it burns, it itches- he's overwhelmed. Breathe, breathe.
"...Kiraiu?"
A voice pierces through the silence of the room, and despite it being gentle and concerned, soft, Kiraiu jolts so hard he slams his fist against his face. While gritting his teeth and caressing his now damaged nose, he fails to notice the burgundy-haired boy slowly shuffle over to his futon, cautious.
Kiraiu is slow to look up, eyes squinted, sore and red from crying. He blinks. Tanjirou is sitting beside him, a calloused hand hovering, unsure. The blonde chokes on his own spit as he attempts to speak. "Sorry." Is the first word he manages, head hung low with guilt, embarrassment. "Didn't mean to wake you."
Tanjirou shakes his head so violently his earrings go thwap against his cheeks, eyebrows furrowed, deep worry in his eyes. A gentle hand rests tentatively on Kiraiu's pale wrist, warm like sunshine, a calloused thumb tracing mindless patterns. "Don't apologize," He pauses, trails off a moment, hesitant. "Can I hold you?"
Kiraiu stares, vision hazy. His breath catches when Tanjirou risks a shuffle forward, knees nearly on the futon. Ever so slowly, he inhales, then speaks.
"Not... yet, not yet." He rushes out, voice trembling, fragile. Tanjirou's nod calms him slightly, now aware he won't be rushed, shoulders sagging. He slips his wrist from the other boy's grasp and instead intertwines their fingers. His hand is clammy, shaking, but Tanjirou just smiles bright, reassuring, warm, always. Kiraiu can't breathe.
He squeezes Tanjirou's hand so hard his pointed blue nails dig into tan skin. Tanjirou doesn't flinch, merely adjusts his grip, focused on Kiraiu's scent. He'd awoken due to a very sudden burst of smells: fear, despair, anger, sadness- all at once. He'd had to take a few deep breathes himself before approaching. "You're okay." Tanjirou whispers, scoots closer, "We're all okay. If you want to talk, I'll listen. If you don't, I'll hold you, when you're ready."
Kiraiu's pointed ears twitch and lower, shoulders dropping, eyelids fluttering- tired down to his bones. His soul. He stifles a sob. "It was just another one where I lost.. everything. You guys. It's fading, but there was so much red. Just- just red, red-" Voice becoming frantic, Kiraiu inhales sharply, dizzy. Absentmindedly, he reaches his other hand out, grasps at Tanjirou's yukata. He's zoning out, digging sharp teeth into his bottom lip when he's jolted back to his body, Tanjirou's forehead resting against his. The gentle boy was rubbing his back with slow, caring touches.
"Shh, I've got you," He hushes the blonde, careful with his movements, not wanting to startle. "We're safe. I promise you. I'm right here by your side."
The words take their time reaching Kiraiu, loading slowly, churning in his foggy brain, until finally he exhales. His scent regains it's sunflower element, though damp rain remains the most prominent. He lets himself revel in the soft touches, the feeling of the pads of Tanjirou's fingers tracing the skin of his wrist. Exhausted, he loops heavy arms around his lover's shoulders as his body falls to the futon once more, limp. Tanjirou goes down easily with him, instantly pulling him against his chest, rubbing Kiraiu's ankle with his foot, touching just to touch. Just to feel.
"Don't leave." Kiraiu says, voice barely audible, muffled in fabric, "Promise?"
Loving hands comb through blonde hair illuminated by the moonlight peeking through a shoji door, tucking strands safely away behind pointed ears. Loving hands trace the stripes on freckled tear-stained cheeks, ridding them of the cold dampness. Loving hands trace down a pale neck and shoulders, arms, until they're intertwined with Kiraiu's own, shaky and clammy. Light, delicate kisses are pressed following the same path, until the blonde's knuckles are being warmed by lips of sunlight.
Tanjirou holds the boy close, presses a kiss to the crown of his head. Breathes in a scent that's finally saying hope love warmth comfort instead of calling out for help as he tugs the blanket over the two of them.
"I promise."