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If Jing Yuan could stay awake forever, he would. It might sound strange for him to wish such things as the “dozing general” of the Xianzhou, but seeing you try to sleep with a permanent crease between your brows struck a chord in him.
During the day you could take painkillers for your headaches. During the day he was able to see you smile, the noise of the ship nothing but background to whatever you two had planned. But once you settled down for bed, curling into him with tension already forming in your shoulders in anticipation, there was nothing you could do but hope tonight was just a little bit better than the others.
Judging from the way your fluffy ears flattened into your hair, it wasn’t.
Jing Yuan sighed and brought a thumb up to your forehead to smooth the wrinkle away. You relaxed just the slightest at his touch, eyes cracking open to meet his.
The bags under your eyes from countless nights just like this made his heart squeeze. A silent yawn escaped from you as you tapped a flat hand to your chin. Thank you.
Jing Yuan cracked a smile at the gesture. He backed up slightly, earning a slight frown from you at the distance he had put between you, and responded by bringing two fingers to the back of his other hand, closed in a fist. Of course.
You were quick to scoot back to him, though he had barely moved when he signed. His chest bounced with a silent chuckle, light puffs of air tickling your ears and ruffling your hair just a bit. With your body sufficiently tucked into him again, you peeked your head up from his torso to look into his eyes. You waved a flat palm over your forearm, mouth open and brows raised a bit sheepishly, then brought one hand to rub a flat hand over your heart— the pain that split your head prevented you from feeling much shame with your question, though: Sing, please?
Jing Yuan’s answer came in the form of a large hand lightly brushing over your ears and to the back of your bead, gently inviting you to take shelter in his arms once more. And from above, the soft melody he hummed floated to coat you like silk.
He wasn’t a singer by any means, but you found Jing Yuan’s voice to be perfect for what you needed. For the small moment in time when he graced you with a lullaby of his own creation, the noise was just a bit softer, a bit more manageable.
You were out before he could come up with an ending to the song, but it wasn’t one you meant to hear the end of anyways. With you finally succumbed to unconsciousness, Jing Yuan placed a light kiss to the crown of your head. You’d see each other in your dreams— he wasn’t far behind.