oneshots || identity v x reader ✔

aesop carl x reader || "chamomile tea"

   aesop carl x reader || "chamomile tea"

summary: unable to sleep, you make tea in hopes to help you sleep. a gray-haired male happens to be having the same problem as you and offers to help.

warnings: none

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Rain pattered against the curtained window as you sat at the wooden desk in your room, scribbling away in your journal. You dropped the ballpoint pen, slouching back against your chair with a sigh of desperation. Sleep had been hard to obtain the past few days; the only thing that had helped you get an hour or two of rest had been the chamomile tea.

The porcelain cup of tea sat atop the desk on its saucer. The steam rose up into the cold room's atmosphere, filling the room with a sweet and floral scent. Your eyes glanced from the untouched cup to the lit candle, a hand reaching out to extinguish it with the candle snuffer. You held it over the candle, slowly lowering it and holding it for a few seconds.

You quickly lifted it, lightly tapping it on the end of the desk and placing it back beside the base of the candlestick. It was darker than before, but you could barely see. You spotted the cup of tea and picked it up carefully so it wouldn't spill. You held the saucer underneath as you sipped it, the delectable flavor dancing on your tongue.

'There isn't much left.' You thought, setting the cup back down to resume your journaling. You stared at the book, softly shaking your head and pushing the chair back. You stood up, feet pressing against the hardwood floor as you walked to your rooms door. You shivered as your hand made contact with the metal knob, turning it to the right and slowly opening the door to preventing any creaking. You walked outside of the room, quietly closing the door behind you. The hallway didn't have any change of temperature; it was possibly even colder than the room you'd reside in.

You ambled through the long hallway, passing by countless of rooms on your way to the kitchen. You looked ahead to an open door which had piqued your interest. Your brows pressed together as you squinted to see the rooms number, but it wasn't visible in the dark. Who else could possibly be up at this hour?

You arrived at the kitchen, grabbing the porcelain teapot that sat on the stove. Your finger lightly tapped the side of the pot, testing if it was warm. Instead, it was cold. You grumbled to yourself, placing it back down. "Of course it's cold. Why wouldn't it be?"

You looked down at the floor tiles, stepping forwards. If you couldn't get more tea, you wouldn't be able to get more rest. You could spend your time at the library as you wait for sunrise — wait for those agonizing, tiresome matches.

You stepped foot inside the library, countless of books on wooden shelves being the first thing you saw. You look to the table you'd usually sit at, spotting the lit candle on the table, right beside an open book. 'Someone's in here at this time?' You thought, a puzzled expression replacing your neutral one from before. You shrugged it off, "Whatever they do is none of my business." You muttered to yourself, picking out a random book.

Your fingers traced over the leather cover as you sat down beside the unoccupied space you had seen when entering the room. You briefly pondered who could be up. Was it a hunter? Perhaps a survivor?

You opened the book, the words seeming blurred to you as you zoned out, unconsciously flipping pages once your eyes quickly finished scanning over them.

You were startled by the sudden shuffling beside you, quickly turning your head to the sound as you snapped out of your fantasies. There sat a familiar gray-haired male, flipping through the pages of his book.

"What are you doing up so late?" You asked, shutting your book. Aesop turned to you, a brief silence before he spoke.

"I should be asking you the same thing." He replied, his attention immediately shifting back to the book he had picked out. You frowned. He hadn't exactly answered your question, but the embalmer wasn't obligated to, either.

He always talked so little and it was rarely about himself — you were friends, but it didn't feel as if there was trust between you two. You sighed, leaning your head down onto the table and closing your eyes.

"Are you going to doze off there?" Aesop asked, raising a brow at your inscrutable action. Why would you fall asleep on such a hard, uncomfortable surface?

He waited on a reply, only hearing a string of continuous mumbling. He shook his head, closing his book and turning to the side to face you.

You lifted your head, eyes furrowing down. "If I could manage to sleep, I wouldn't be here right now." You remarked, looking to his dimly lit face. Half of it was covered by his mask, but you could still see his gray eyes. They were dull and expressionless.

He hadn't replied, instead, he scoffed at your reply. You brought a hand to point at his face. "Do you wear your mask to sleep?" You blurted out curiously. Aesop always wore the mask, so would he wear it in the comfort of his room?

"I do." He replied, rolling his eyes at the foolish question.

"Really?" You stared at him in surprise.

"No."

"Oh." Your lips pressed into a straight line, looking away from his cold gaze.

Aesop sighs, standing up from his spot and lightly tapping you on the shoulder. You look up to him, slightly tilting your head.

"Let's go." He says, stepping away from you as he adjusts his gloves.

"Go where?" You ask, standing up without a response. You quickly stretch as Aesop turns to blow out the candle.

"Your room." He gives a short response as he begins to walk. You quickly follow behind him, curious as to why he'd wanna go to your room.

"Why my room?" You ask.

Aesop sighs, lightly shaking his head as he briefly glances at you. "Isn't it obvious? I'm going to help you sleep."

"Oh! There's no need for that. It's better if you go back to your room and-" You're cut off with him clearing his throat. "I would prefer to assist you. It's clear you haven't been sleeping well." He says as you both pass by the open door you had seen earlier. You nodded without an attempt to argue back. He seemed determined to help you.

You arrive at your room, stepping inside as he trails behind you. Aesop shuts the door, glancing around your room. He spots the cup of tea on your desk, along with the journal and candlestick. He lightly hums, looking to your disheveled bed. The earthy undertone in your room was a clear sign you had been trying different teas to help you sleep, but given the bags under your eyes, it hadn't been working out well. He noticed your lethargic movements in earlier days, but now it was twice as obvious. He wanted to help you sleep; you had helped him with so much, even insisting to be friends despite his reluctance. You didn't give up on him and he was thankful. Now, he hopes he can return the favor, even if it is small.

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