Normally, the Narrator never woke up when it was raining, another thing he did was never wake up when Stanley was there.
So, tell me why the Narrator was awake at this hour, and couldn't fall back to sleep?
The rain was hitting the window in a polite and delicate matter. Sure, if you went outside the raindrops were like bullets.
And soft snores could be heard right next to the Narrator. Warmness that was temporarily there for a bit, but could always come back later.
God, he loved the man right next to him.
From the occasional moving closer, to sometimes biting whilst he slept.
The Narrator really didn't understand why Stanley bit when he was sleeping, probably something with REM sleep.
The Narrator truly hated when he woke up in the middle of the night. Usually that meant nightmares and the memories of them.
But, he couldn't recall any nightmares tonight. Only the sweetest of dreams, dreams like if cotton candy were clouds and the sky was a blue jollyrancher melted. Or the ocean being a bunch of gummies for the animals and jello for water. Plants could rang from red licorice to hard sugar candies shaped like bananas that didn't have names.
Normally, the Narrator would get up from his bed and write in his journal about the nightmares he had, but he couldn't even get up from his bed.
Not while the best person in the world was next to him, all cuddled up to his side, practically trying to spoon with him.
Shit. Now he was sweating and all flustered while thinking about him. Even when he was asleep he had an effect on the Narrator.
The Narrator begrudgingly got the blanket off himself and all on Stanley. He felt too hot now.
An uncomfortable hotness.
The Narrator desperately wanted to get up and do something productive, like clean or get water.
The time was 3:06am.
He wasn't going to be able to do much of anything at this hour.
The Narrator then came up with a perfect idea! He grabbed a pillow, it was basically the size of a body pillow, but it worked.
The Narrator slowly slid out from Stanley's grasp and put the pillow there instead.
Stanley snuggled up to the pillow, as if it was the bucket, since sadly the Narrator couldn't lean as far into Stanley as that stupid metal pail did.
Stupid pail! It wasn't even top tier, it was in the medium tier! Hell, the Broom Closet is better than the bucket, so was the baby. And the baby was a fucking baby! Now, it would be more interesting if the baby had a gun, but either way it was better than that stupid grey, barely shiny, bucket!
The Narrator slowly got up, his fake bones were popping. He didn't have bones.
He slowly made his way downstairs and to the kitchen, ignoring his paranoid thoughts.
Speaking of paranoid thoughts, was that an apple tree or a person looking at him.
Okay! He swore he heard the front door knob shuffle!
Surely, no one was hiding in the cabinets, right? Was there a cabinet man?
The Narrator turned on the light downstairs just to be safe. No one in the living room?
Okay, the Narrator was done with the water. Now, there are two ways he could do this.
Number one: Turning the light off and running as fast as he could up the stairs all while being quiet so he doesn't wake Stanley.
Number two: Leave the light on, and possibly let the creatures notice it so they come upstairs and murder him.
The Narrator liked the first plan better, so the light clicked off.
He ran, he ran faster than he ever could. Infact, he ran on his tippy toes like a fucking dinosaur. Dinosaurs are cool! He ran on his tippy toes to go faster, and not wake Stanley! It was a good plan both ways.
The Narrator got to the second floor, and stopped running, he crept to where his and Stanley's room was.
He peeked his head inside and Stanley was still asleep! Or in the same position he was while sleeping.
The Narrator muttered a quick 'thank god' under his breath. He went in the room and locked the door. Beat that creatures!
Stanley had his eyes opened and was awake now. He stretched as he turned on the lamp for the Narrator.
The Narrator made his way over to the bed. He gave Stanley some apology kisses on his forehead.
Stanley rubbed his thumb in circles against the Narrator's palm, reassuring him that it was okay.
Stanley pulled the Narrator into bed and turned the lamp off.
Stanley didn't need to be told what kept the Narrator awake. He knew, and he was only going to listen or ask questions about it, when the Narrator wanted to talk about it.
The Narrator happily faced Stanley while cuddling with him. He enjoyed this, and knew Stanley liked it too.
Stanley had a lazy smile on and his eyes were barely opened.
The Narrator put his head on Stanley's shoulder, his mind was already drifting to sleep at the sound of Stanley's heartbeats which were sped up now because he was awake.
Stanley played with the Narrator's hair, he was trying to braid it, despite how short it was. He didn't care, it felt nice against his fingers.
Stanley now got to enjoy the sound of his partner sleeping.
Stanley specifically liked the way the Narrator would sometimes sleep talk, he would say stuff about Stanley, and answer questions with answers that were confusing.
Stanley will admit, he liked being confused when it was with the Narrator.
The Narrator had already began sleep talking, it seemed like this one was a memory, as he was talking about how nice the spaghetti came out for being his 3rd time.
Stanley had never seen the Narrator make spaghetti, but maybe he would.
You never know.
————————————–——————————>
