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When he wakes in the middle of the night, he's expecting it. His hands shake, his mouth tastes of panic, and his whole being is filled with a sense of dread so strong he can't breathe.
Everyone is dead everyone is dead everyone is dead—
He pushes himself up into a sitting position, so fast his head spins, but that might just be the lack of oxygen—
He forces himself to breathe breathe breathe—
Fuck.
He clenches his hands into fists, breathes, tries to keep his breathing, keeps in mind the breathing techniques he knows and has known for years.
This should be muscle memory by now. Why is it still so hard?
Finally, exhaustingly, when he doesn't feel like he's about to asphyxiate and drop dead (wouldn’t that be a way to go?), he loosens his fists, vaguely noting the crescents of his nails embedded into his palm.
He exhales as quietly as he can.
He drags his gaze to the blanket pooled by his legs, follows it to Saiou sleeping on the floor beside him, to Mizuchi sleeping beside Saiou. He focuses on the rise and fall of their chests, breathing along, thanking everything that they both snore loudly. It makes it easier to know for certain that they're alive and well.
He scrubs a hand across his face, looking at the still turned on TV. Right, he thinks. Movie marathon.
He gets up slowly, wary of getting lightheaded again, fumbling with shaky hands for the off button. With a click, the room is thrown into darkness, the moon peeking in from the gap in the curtain. He uses its light to guide himself out of the room, careful as he steps past strewn about sweaters and socks and cans of soda.
He shoots one more glance at his childhood friends, assuring and reassuring himself that they're alive. While he knows Saiou would want him to wake him, he'll be fine. He's used to handling this on his own.
He reaches the kitchen by using the wall, the coolness of the paint a grounding sensation under his hand. He flips the light switch a bit too hard—his hands are still shaking—and has to blink a few times against the instant brightness.
He opens the cupboard to grab a mug, the one that Saiou and Mizuchi have dubbed his, with its old and faded Bat-Signal and slightly chipped handle. The assholes even put it on the lower shelf, just for him.
It makes him feel a little better.
He fumbles again when pouring water into it, nearly dropping it in the sink. He catches it in time, fast reflexes overcoming tremors.
It really would be the cherry on top of everything if he ended up breaking his favourite mug.
He gulps down the water. He wants to make tea, but he can’t even hold a mug with tap water. There’s no way he can trust himself. He fills his mug once more before slumping into one of the kitchen chairs.
Even with the droning of the fridge, it's too quiet. The time on the oven says it's 12:04 a.m. He’s turning on his phone, about to open Youtube to watch something relaxing, hoping he'll be able to fall back asleep within the hour, when he thinks:
Judai is dead.
He squeezes his phone tightly, switching to his contacts, focusing on his breathing again.
Judai never messages. He only calls because he has the phone capability of an old man. Even then, it's not often, weeks between calls is the norm. They're both busy people, it’s not a problem. Despite knowing this, his mind is using it as fuel to his anxiety, telling him over and over again that the reason he hasn't been in contact is because he's dead, just like everyone you've ever cared about—
He hates this, he hates when this happens!
He pushes those thoughts away, focusing on the shape of the letters in Judai's name, on keeping his breathing going, because if he stops focusing on it, he knows he'll faint.
He breathes and presses call. He knows the fastest way to calm down is to hear Judai's voice, to confirm he’s safe, but he feels stupidly selfish for needing the assurance in the first place.
The phone isn't picked up the first call and his chest immediately constricts, bile biting the back of his throat. Cool it, Edo. He's probably busy, not dead—
His phone rings before he can do something even more selfish, like call again. He can't help the relief at seeing Judai's name flashing at him, answers the phone so quickly he nearly throws it in his rush.
"Hey Edo," Judai says cheerfully, lively, alive. "You don't usually call first. What's up?"
He's silent for too long, gathering his thoughts, his words, his composure, and Judai asks, concerned, "Edo?"
"I'm here," he struggles out, hoping it sounds anywhere close to normal and knows it falls far too short. "Sorry, I'm here."
Judai goes quiet. There are voices in the background, muffled enough that he can't make out the words, but he can hear Judai say to them, "Gimme a bit, got a call to take."
"You're busy," he says, telling himself more than Judai. Tells himself to stop being needy. To stop being like this. He rubs at his eyes, lingering on the scratch on his cheek. He must have scratched himself at some point while hyperventilating. "I can call later, Judai."
"Nah, it’s fine," Judai says simply. "Just talking to scientists, it’s not urgent." Then, in a low voice, "Are you okay?"
"Are you?" he returns unthinkingly and immediately wants to take the words back, can hear the desperation in his voice so clearly.
"I—yeah, I am?" Judai sounds confused before repeating, more surely, "I am. Edo, what's going on?"
Before he can think of anything, anything that’s not the truth, he remembers Judai’s injury months ago, blood spiralling down his arm in horrible rivulets. His right hand is starting to feel a little numb and he clutches at his phone harder as he says, more of a wheeze than actual words, "Anxious."
"Do you need me there?" Judai asks so earnestly, like he'll make his way over from wherever in the world he is, as soon as he says the word. It's so ridiculous that he has to laugh. It comes out a little choked, a little sad, but the fact that Judai can make him laugh when he's feeling so horrible is a miracle in itself.
His hero, always.
"I was being serious," Judai complains, but he can hear the smile in his voice.
"That's why it's funny," he tells him, words a little clumsy and loud on their way out. He remembers that Saiou and Mizuchi are sleeping in the other room and lowers his voice. "Thank you though."
"Anytime.” He can hear movement, the scrape of a chair's legs against flooring. "Is something happening over there?"
He shakes his head before realizing he can't see that. "No," he murmurs, drawing his legs up on the chair with him, pressing them to his chest. "Just anxious."
"What about?"
His chest tightens. He feels like such a burden. "Do you have time to talk about it?" he asks. "Talking to scientists sounds important."
"Don’t worry about it," Judai says. “You're way more important."
If he were feeling a little more himself, a little more awake, he'd probably pick fun at Judai for saying that, make him flustered and shy. He can’t though, not tonight. Instead, he says, a little blankly, "I thought you were dead."
Judai doesn't miss a beat. "Yubel would never allow that." It's partially a joke, partially the truth, and so, so Judai that it's exactly what he needs. "Seriously though," Judai says, a touch softer, "I'm fine, Edo."
"I'm glad." He closes his eyes, leaning into the phone, like he can get closer to him this way. "You do go looking for trouble."
"More like trouble goes looking for me," Judai jokes. Then, he asks, "Do you worry about me a lot?”
He doesn't even have to think about it. "Not really. I know you can take care of yourself."
“That’s good.” Judai sounds relieved. “Don’t know how I’d feel if you were worrying over me that much.”
He gets it. Judai’s independence is important to him, it would only be an insult to worry about him unnecessarily. He knows he would feel too crowded if Judai did the same for him.
“But tonight’s different,” Judai says, a question in his words. “You sounded really panicked, Edo.”
"Tonight is—bad.” He rolls the word on his tongue. It’s a gross understatement. “It's not usually you, but," he struggles to put it into words. It's been a long time since he's had to explain this. It’s been a long time since he’s felt okay with sharing this. "It doesn't happen much anymore, but sometimes I wake up feeling like everyone I care about is dead.” He shivers, hates himself for it, and says, “Saiou, Mizuchi. You. I wake up truly and one hundred percent believing you’re all dead."
"That's," Judai trails off. Then, wonderingly, in a small voice, "That's a thing that happens to other people?"
He opens his eyes, a roar in his ears as the desire to protect Judai surges. It overcomes his own self-pity, because he’s always stronger when someone else is hurting. "Judai, you...?"
"Hnnn. Kinda." Judai sighs, the line crackling. "It was really bad when I returned from the other dimension. I used to not sleep because I was so worried about everyone. I—um, I think I had it easier than you, though. Since Yubel was always there to calm me down and all."
"It doesn't matter who had it easier," he says firmly. It’s so like him to think that way. "I'm sorry you were going through it too."
"Sorry," Judai says sheepishly, which isn't what he was going for at all, "I didn't mean to make it about me."
"It's okay," he says. He realizes his hands aren't shaking anymore. He’s surprised, but relieved. "I'm feeling better just hearing your voice."
"That's—um," Judai stumbles over his words. He smiles, thinking about the blush that's probably on Judai's face; must make a noise, because he says, "Hey, don't make fun of me."
"I'm not," he promises.
"Sure," Judai grumbles. He hears him settle. Judai’s quiet for a moment longer, enough that he’s about to ask what he’s thinking, when he asks, "You said this doesn't happen much anymore?"
He rests his chin on his knee, smile fading. “Yeah,” he says, looking for the right words. He doesn’t like talking about this, but he doesn’t mind if it’s Judai.
Eventually, he says, “The waking up in the middle of the night started when my dad died." He thinks about back then tiredly, so tiredly. "That was when my anxiety over everyone dying was at its worst. It really only resurfaced around the time that—" he can't even say his name, speaks past it, "my guardian died, and then everything with Saiou..." He shakes his head. "Anyway, waking up like this hasn't happened in months."
"Did something happen recently?"
He brushes a hand over the table, feeling the pattern of the wood beneath his hand. He doesn't want to be depressing, he wants to look forward, but he shouldn't bottle everything up. He sighs and admits, "Yesterday was the anniversary of my dad's death."
Judai sucks in a breath, he can hear it. "I'm sorry, Edo."
"Thank you," he says. He lifts his head. "That's why I'm with Saiou and Mizuchi right now. We went to visit his grave." He blinks up at the ceiling. "I miss him."
"Your dad sounded really cool," and of course it's something as simple as that that makes his eyes burn.
"He was." He swallows hard. "He was the coolest." He shouldn’t be surprised that the first person he can say this to is Judai, he’s always been easy to talk to, but he says, unwittingly, "Next year, I'll have lived more of my life without him than with him."
"Edo..."
"I know I shouldn’t worry about it," he says around the lump in his throat. "I know that, but it's all I've been thinking about the whole night." He knows Saiou and Mizuchi did their best to distract him with movies and games and hugs, but he loved his father so much. He still loves him so, so much. How could he have lived his life without him for so long?
He misses him so badly it hurts.
He wipes at his eyes harshly. "I don’t know what I’ll do when I visit next year. Go crazy, probably."
"Can I come?"
He lets his hand fall. "What?"
"Next year, when you go visit," Judai says and his voice is gentle, so gentle. "Can I come too?"
He doesn't know what to say. His throat feels tight with so much gratitude that he can't help the wet laugh that escapes. It sounds more like a sob. "Yeah. Yeah, you can. I'd like that."
"I’ll be there," Judai says, voice warm in his ear. Then he adds, “Maybe we can, like, duel.”
He bursts into laughter. A few tears escape from his eyes, but he doesn’t even care because, “Duel?” He laughs in earnest, pressing the phone to his ear. “Duel where? At the graveyard?”
“Ahh, listen—”
“I’m listening,” he says, more tears falling. He can’t even be mad at Judai’s tactless words, the warmth in his chest burns too bright.
“I didn’t think that through,” Judai bemoans. “I just thought, I dunno, your dad loved heroes, we have hero decks. It’d be like celebrating what he loved.” Apologetically, he says, “It sounded like a good idea in my head.”
Something in his chest loosens, grief fluttering into even more laughter. Laughter and affection and Judai.
What a dork.
He feels wistful as he says, "Dad would've loved you."
"You think so?"
"I really do," he says and it's the late hour, he usually catches himself better than this, but he says, far too sincere, "it's not like it's hard."
It's only when Judai doesn't respond that he realizes what he’s said. He flushes, sitting up straighter. "Sorry. You can ignore that."
It’s not like Judai doesn’t know how he feels, it’s not like he doesn’t mean his words, but it’s embarrassing how easily his feelings spill all over the place.
Judai giggles, something small and shy and cute, and his heart beats a little faster in his chest. He wants to record the sound, play it over and over, because wow.
He untucks his legs so he can rest his head on the table, swooning just a little. He’s breathless from something other than anxiety tonight and that’s a win in his book.
He feels so, so cozy.
"What are you up to?" he asks softly, into the companionable silence.
"I'm in Ghana," Judai answers brightly. "You ever been?"
"I haven't." He swallows a yawn. "Tell me about it?"
"It's so cool! The duel energy here is insane!"
"Is that why you're talking to scientists?"
"Yeah!" He can hear how excited he is. He smiles fondly, closing his eyes. "They wanted to discuss duel energy and its effect on the ecosystems.” Judai laughs. “Honestly, a lot of it is going over my head, but apparently they want my expertise. Imagine that!”
"Mhm."
A pause. “Are you falling asleep on me?”
It takes him a few seconds to register the question. “Course not.”
“Go to bed, Edo. I’m getting sleepy just listening to you.”
“Mm. In a bit. I’m,” he breathes a sigh, “listening.”
Judai says something, something being cute? He’s on the cusp of sleep, nearly gone, doesn’t have the energy to ask him to repeat it.
"But man, you wouldn't believe how beautiful it is here. Edo, I saw an elephant. Multiple elephants!" Judai makes a noise of happiness. “You would love it.”
"Wish I was there," he murmurs.
The last thing he hears before he drifts off is a soft, "Yeah. Me too."
When he wakes, it's to a dead phone, a stiff neck, and Saiou and Mizuchi cooking breakfast. He blinks up at them blearily, as they teasingly ask him who he was chatting with all night.
He swipes against the phone imprint against his cheek, sticking a tongue out at Saiou as Mizuchi throws him his charger. Regardless, he doesn’t miss the way Mizuchi’s blanket is thrown across his shoulders, doesn’t miss the way Saiou has the waffle maker out even though he hates cleaning it (waffles are Edo’s favourite), doesn’t miss the way they both hadn’t woken him up despite the fact it’s nearly noon.
Their worry is comforting. He loves them dearly.
When his phone is charged enough to turn back on, he has several notifications from Judai. He presses a smile to his hand as he scrolls through the pictures he sent—a bunch of different landscapes and luscious greenery, of various elephants and sparkling water, and lastly, a selfie of Judai in front of an orange sunset, throwing him his signature gotcha.
Judai: hope you're feeling better when you wake up
Then, a message sent five minutes after that, he can see the timestamp:
Judai: <3
He sends a quick message back, buzzing with happiness, before leaving his phone to charge, pulling Saiou and Mizuchi into a group hug, warm and delighted when they hug him back.
Edo: thank you <3