comfort | sean and kaycee.

fifth time.

"then go to sleep!"

"i can't! that's why i'm calling you, dummy!"

sean rubbed his face, clearly faking his exhaustion with her. he groaned with exaggeration. "okay fiiiiiine. what do you want me to do?"

kaycee thought about it. she didn't really know what she wanted him to do. truthfully, she only wanted to hear his voice. amidst the scary darkness of her room and her paranoid eyes seeing visions of horror that weren't there, sean was the first person she considered in ushering those visions away somehow. there was just this quality, this feeling, that his voice had. although he mostly used his voice to yell and be obnoxious around her, the quality came out most when he was pensive. when he was teaching students, when he was coming up with ideas. especially in moments when he comforts her and his deep voice becomes soft, murmuring, and calming. she wanted that from him.

"maybe. . .," she thought aloud, "maybe you can tell me a story?"

sean smirked derisively. "pfft, what--like a bedtime story? for 5 year olds?"

she rolled her eyes. "shut up, sean. just help me out."

"okay, okay." his eyes became playful and bright. "let me think of one."

a minute passed and sean found a story. it was one she already knew, the one about a man and some monks, patience and a plethora of doors. it had a frustrating ending where they never find out what's behind the final door, but since kaycee already knew the ending, sean made it as humorous as possible. every door the man entered was made to be cartoonishly ridiculous.

this one's made of literal poop, kaycee, imagine how that would smell. if that was the final door and that had all of life's secrets behind it, i wouldn't walk through it. now the man walks through a disco themed one and michael jackson's there hee-heeing up the place. is michael jackson the meaning of life?, he asks the monks. ...what? okay, shut up, kayc, he would be at a disco, i know michael jackson.

it was silly things like that that branched off into separate, hilarious arguments before circling back to the story. they teased and debated with each other, kaycee constantly needing to shush sean's increasing volume. but she wasn't annoyed by his loudness, if anything, she found it kind of endearing. it was easy to catch his sound and she liked it.

by the time the story was nearing it's end, kaycee's cheeks hurt from all the laughing and smiling she had done that night. the movie was completely gone from her mind at this point, her giggles shaking her body. it made her forget her sleeplessness. at some point, she flipped around and balanced her phone on her desk so her hands were free and sean could still see her, laying in bed, snuggled in her blankets.

"and finally, the monks tell the man—," sean ended, making grand gestures with his hand.

"you can't open the final door. you're not a monk!," kaycee finished excitedly, throwing her fist in the air in a celebratory way.

they laughed together. "yeah, exactly," sean responded. he glanced up at her, a smug shine in his eyes, his smile. "was that a good enough story for you, kaycee rice?"

she hummed with satisfaction. "yes, it was, sean lew." she nuzzled her cheek into her pillow, her energy softening.

both of them fell quiet and enjoyed the other's digital presence. the sudden silence guided sleep back into her mind, wrapping her conscious in it's embrace. but still, she looked at sean through half-lidded eyes, thinking and falling. he looked focused, lips pushed out as he scrolled through whatever was on his computer, which he had taken out to demonstrate one of the doors during the story. his hair was still a mess, batches of strands flying up in different directions. kaycee had an urge to run her hands through it and pat it down, wondering if it was soft or not. she bet it was.