Roach

You hated silence. When you were little, you couldn't sleep without your mom's bedtime lullaby. But only when you grew up and moved out of your parents' house you experienced the delights of insomnia. So you bought headphones. You began falling asleep to the pounding of the rain, or to other calm melodies.

You took them with you and into the army. But one day they broke. And even though you tried to fix it, they no longer worked.

For several hours you agonized, not knowing where to put yourself, but you couldn't stand it and, sighing heavily, got out of bed, heading for Roach.

A disheveled Roach opened the door and listened to your problem. He stood on the cold floor for a moment, thinking about what he could do. Then he stepped aside and gestured for you to lie down on his bed. He was laying on the very edge, hugging you with his cold hands. Just as you were about to say that a hug, while nice, wouldn't help you, Roach started humming softly in your ear.