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Tick.
You couldn't say for certain when the noise began, but now that you're aware of it, it seems to get louder with each passing second, occasionally stopping, but always picking up again. Unbeknownst to you, you're nodding along with the noise, eyes closed, although you wouldn't see much if you opened them anyway. A cheap glowing galaxy above you, illuminating your nights (just about). This didn't leave much visible, aside from your bedside clock. Horrid green numbers read a tale you'd prefer not to know; 3:42am. So instead your eyes remain closed, your heartbeat just a little too fast, the slow jog of a tired body trying to tell it's host to sleep.
Tick.
Of course, the ticking isn't the only noise in the room. At least three cats lie at the edge of the bed, their tiny snores all bringing the comfort you always need when you sleep alone. Usually that was enough to send you into a dreamless sleep; no such luck tonight.
Tick.
Without warning, tears leak from your eyes, like faucets with too much pressure held there for too long. In the wee hours, alone in the dark, tears needed no explanation - in the morning, you may try to rationalise them, or forget, but not now - and they fall freely, soaking your pillow. You wrap yourself into the blankets and hide from the world.
Tick.
You can't be sure how long it takes the tears to stop - time is funny like that when you're not keeping track - but eventually they do, and you find yourself overwhelmed with a sudden heaviness in your limbs. Yet another way for your body to tell you it's time to sleep.
Tick.
In reality, your body isn't one to be trusted. Soft egdes in the wrong places, a voice that told a story you'd rather people never knew. Sure, you could convince people, on a good day, with a bit of luck, but it's sometime after 4 in the morning and there's no one here to fool but yourself.
Tick.
A free film in your head, showing every 'miss', 'she', 'lady' and 'her'. Your fists curl, nails biting into flesh ever so slightly. Even in this fake show, the words provided the same reaction. Your stomach drops through the floor and halfway through the earth's core, your brain glitches for a second. Your breathing stops, starts, and stops again. The reality is this takes place in a matter of seconds, but things are stretched out in the darkness aren't they?
Tick.
You awaken suddenly, dreams of death having startled you out of your slumber. You can't recall when you drifted off, but you don't feel at all rested. You check your phone out of habit and see you texted your datemate many many panicked and misspelt messages sometime around 4am. You hope you didn't scare them. You start typing out an apology, but never click send; you're snoring 30 seconds after picking up the device, typing out at least 50 cat emojis with your cheek.
Tick.
Groggily, you realise your phone is ringing. You forgot you changed the ringtone, but the clock one seemed cool at the time. Your mind attempts to wade through the mist of sleep and exhaustion. Tick, tick, tick. You slide the screen a good 3 times before managing to unlock it, your partner's voice managing to sound beautiful even through such a wrecked speaker.
"Nep? Nep are you okay? Nepeta?" Their voice is strong but the concern is obvious; you curse your tired brain for not reassuring them hours ago.
"Kan I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to scare you! Things were just... Not good last night." Dysphoria often went unspoken between the two of you - you're both your own brand of nonbinary, dysphoria sucks, and comfort is always provided. "I was 50% asleep and 100% dysphoric, Kanaya." You bite your lip, forcing the memories of last night as far back as they'll go.
"Oh Nep." You sigh in unison, and your chest aches for them. A very excitable kitten jumps on your chest, licking his tiny paw. Things are so different in the light of morning.
"I can't be there today, but I'll be there at first light tomorrow." You smile despite the swirl of emotion in your chest. Most people would think they were joking, but no. Kanaya has turned up several times at 5am and simply let themself in, not thinking to announce their presence before getting into bed with you. Which would be fine, if your datemate actually made any sort of noise when they walked. No, being woken up by a freezing cold arm around your waist is definitely not the best thing you can think of.
"Kanaya we've talked about this, no sneaking into bed at 5 in the morning." They chuckle and you're pretty sure they'll just arrive at 6. "Kan..." You try to sound as serious as you can manage. You'll find out tomorrow morning if it works.
"I have to go, but I've been working on a nickname. I'll text it to you."
You roll your eyes preemptively. "Kanaya, you don't need a nickname for me. Flower face and kitten hair were noble efforts. You already call me the name I chose!"
"No Nepeta trust me I have it this time. I've cracked the code of nick names. Trust me." They don't wait for your response. "Are you ready for your mind to be blown."
"You've been spending too much time with Dave."
"Shut up I'm being romantic."
"Sorry flower face." You giggle and you can almost feel them trying not to smile down the phone.
"I'm going." They pause, clearly picking their words carefully. "I know your head tells you differently, but you're perfect, Nepeta." Another pause, and your phone buzzes next to your ear, your text alert. "I'll see you tomorrow."
They hang up and you look down at your phone. Yea, they just might have cracked that nickname thing afterall.
'Love you, perfect.'