Universe:Beschiverse
Story: Of Rusted Hearts And Grease Palms
Colour: Fuzzy Wuzzy #01. Cuddles, Rose Pink #02. Let Me Help
Supplies and styles: brush (26.05.25 - commemorate), bichromatic, silhouette, life drawing, resin, stain
Resin: fic_promptly  - The Comment Community - Challenge Week 3 & lyricaltitles  Album Challenge, Aspiral by Epica - Fight To Survive
Stain: (26.05.2025 / love quote of the day) When love is at its best, one loves so much that he cannot forget. - Helen Hunt Jackson
Word count: 439
Rating: T
Warnings: implied past abusep

Sometimes sleep avoided her like a plague.

It was worse when she was overwhelmed by work cases, which wasn’t a surprise. And wasn’t rare either, Leigh was sure social workers were always overworked. The ones around her simply stopped caring so much. She wished she could do that, she wished she could turn off empathy, and that she could turn off that trained vision for abuse signs.

Her ex didn’t appreciate Leigh sniffing those like a bloodhound, she didn’t think Prett would appreciate neither.

Leigh sat up carefully. She had avoided spending the night for weeks, not that Prett had been insistent or didn’t avoid doing the same. But the rain had been torrential all day long, Prett’s place was a couple of blocks away from her work instead of across the city.

Now she was trying to not bother Prett, who always looked adorable when she slept and Leigh knew she had a hard time sleeping sometimes too. It was almost a bonding thing, Leigh’s insomnia and Prett’s nightmares.

Leigh had been collecting facts about Prett for a while now, she enjoyed each one of them. Maybe it was too early for the L word, maybe it would too early for quite some time. Still… so far, it was the most genuine loving emotion Leigh had ever felt.

She’d forget her name before she forgot Prett.

Her mind wondered into that and she was pulled out by Prett’s sleepy attack. Arms around her waist and Leigh was pulled back and down. She giggled more out of surprise than anything else, it wasn’t the first time Prett hugged her from behind and forced Leigh to lay on top of her.

“Can’t sleep?” Prett asked, squirming on the bed to put them in a better position, Leigh had learned to not resist the cuddle monster.

“Just too many thoughts, it’s not that serious, don’t worry.”

“Let me help,“ she turned and started to kick the blankets around, like she could manage to sneak under them without letting go of Leigh. “It’s 3 in the morning, you should be sleeping.”

“You too.”

“I sleep better when you sleep with me.”

Specially in rainy nights, even when it’s just the rain, Prett didn’t need to say. Prett’s sleeping playlist, that consisted of “electronic ambience” tunes, was still softly playing from her phone. It probably threw off Prett’s Spotify’s algorithm, soft soothing music after eight-or-so hours of industrial metal.

Leigh sighed and helped her with the covers, allowing herself to be hidden under the safety of it. To be held by Prett like it could keep her safe from all those way-too-real thoughts.