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When Emet-Selch came to my room that night, he was brooding from the onset. As much as I wanted to poke fun at him for being grumpy, I thought better of it. He didn’t want to do anything, even with my coaxing, so for a long while I sat in bed and read my book, while he laid his head on my shoulder, his eyes sliding over the words with me.
He was quiet for so long and I started to get worried. After a while, I closed my book and shrugged my shoulder so he lifted his head. He didn’t lift it all the way, merely set his chin on my shoulder and looked up at me, his eyes barely open, dark circles underneath.
“Are you alright?” He watched me for a moment before answering.
“Fine. Just tired.”
“Are you sure?”
“It’s just-” He sighed. “It’s just been a long day, hero.”
I bit my lip, my eyes searching his face. Something was off about him tonight, but I was afraid if I pushed, he’d pull further away from me. I’d confided in him before, but not so much the other way around. So, I set my book on the bedside table and turned the lamp off. I turned back to him with a smile. My chest ached, knowing he didn’t want to tell me, but the least I could do was treat him with some kindness.
“Okay,” I started, reaching for his arm. “Let’s just go to bed, then.” I started turning away from him, taking his arm to lay across my waist, but he gripped my wrist and turned me back around.
“No,” he said, shortly. “This way.” He guided my hand back behind his torso. I did as he wanted and hugged him close to my body, laying my hands flat against his back. He wrapped his arms around me as well, tucking me in under his chin.
He exhaled a deep breath, and soon enough, his breathing was even. Once I had noticed his breaths coming easier, I let myself drift off as well.
When I woke up again, sometime in the night, I realized I had turned in my sleep. I was curled up in bed, his warm body flush against my back, his arms wrapped loosely around my middle. I was awoken by something, but in my sleepy haze I wasn’t sure what.
I took quick stock of the room, only just lifting my head off the pillow. The moon was barely illuminating everything, but I didn’t see anything out of the ordinary. I laid one hand over his and pressed my backside closer to him.
“Mm,” I hummed, dropping my head down again to go back to sleep, relaxing into him, reveling in his warmth.
When I was just on the cusp of being claimed by the darkness again, I felt his arms tighten around me. I opened my eyes, mild curiosity piquing. He shifted behind me, his whole body tense, so I slowly spun myself around to face him.
Even with his eyes closed, his face was troubled- eyebrows furrowed, lips a hard line.
I frowned. Was he dreaming? Could Ascians dream? Well, that was a stupid question, I supposed. If they could cry, they could certainly dream.
What was it about, I wondered? Did it have anything to do with the way he had been acting tonight?
He looked distressed, so I started to raise my arm to shake him awake-
He suddenly crushed me against him. I gasped, not expecting it. I could feel his fingers digging into my back, my ribs pressed so hard against his chest that I had trouble inhaling. My arms were bound to my sides and I was at the mercy of his nightmare.
“Pers…” he mumbled, burying his head in the crook of my neck.
“Emet-?”
“Stop…”
I thought for a moment that he’d woken up, but his eyes never opened. His lock of white hair fell over his third eye and his jaw clenched. I tried to push away from him, but his firm grip held.
“Emet-”
“Don’t!”
“You need to let me-I can’t-”
I tried to sit up, but he held on to my waist, desperation in his voice as whatever dream he was having played on.
“Pers, please!”
I pushed hard against the strength of his arms, and called his name once more, loudly.
“If you go out you’ll-” Finally, his eyes flew open, finishing his sentence in a whisper as he looked into my eyes. “Die.” We stared at each other for a few long seconds, breathing hard. He-he looked panicked for half a moment, but he slowly began to realize where he was. He blinked in surprise and loosened his arms around me so that I could move, breathe. I sat up, gulping down large bursts of air. I turned to him, looking down at his tense body, his wide eyes.
“Are you-”
Immediately, he wrapped his arms around my waist again, pulling himself close to me, and laying his head down on my chest. He held me as if his life depended on it, desperate and needy. When I’d recovered from my shock, I put one hand on the back of his head, weaving my fingers into his hair. I ran the fingers of my other hand lightly over the muscles in his back. He relaxed a little, the feeling of my touch bringing him a small solace.
“You were having a nightmare,” I told him. “Are you alright?”
“Just let me…” he sighed. “Let me listen to your heart beat.”
“Sure,” I assented, and sat back against my headboard. He closed his eyes and I stilled my hand, letting it rest against his shoulder blade. “Do you want to tell me about it?”
He hesitated for a moment.
“The final days of my city,” he started. “The death…”
His voice trailed off, whatever words too hard to say. I couldn’t imagine feeling the way he felt- the burden of truth, the guilt of thinking it was his fault. I couldn’t begin to…
I inhaled a deep breath and exhaled slowly, trying to calm my heartbeat so that it was more steady, more peaceful a sound for him to listen to.
When he finally pulled away, I shivered, the warmth he’d brought with him suddenly gone. He sat up, but looked down at his lap, hand fisted in the blanket.
I reached out to him, to comfort him, but he leaned away from me. I frowned. Was he embarrassed? Mad?
“Don’t do that,” I ordered, but he still didn’t look at me. I sighed and positioned myself on my knees in front of him. I brushed his shock of white hair out of his face and leaned in so I was at his eye level. “Look at me.”
“I am sorry, hero,” he said, huffing a humorless laugh, not meeting my eyes. “I am not used-”
I slid my fingers into his hair, pushing it away, so it didn’t interfere when I leaned in further to press my lips against his. He inhaled, sharply, surprised. I breathed in his scent as I kissed him, hoping that, in some way, this would be a comfort to him. He didn’t have to talk- I wouldn’t make him, but I didn’t want him to continue hurting, either. He had helped me through even the toughest of nights, and I wanted to do the same for him.
He returned my sentiment, fervently, slowly running one of his hands up and down the arm that was currently supporting me.
“It’s okay,” I breathed once I’d pulled away. I sat back on my knees, removing my hand from his hair. He caught it, though, and pressed my palm against his cheek. He closed his eyes and sighed, curling his own fingers around mine.
Eventually, I slid my hand out of his. His hopeful expression fell as I did, like he didn’t want me to go. I smiled, softly and laid back down in the bed, opening my arms to him.
“Come here, Ascian,” I ordered, mimicking him, my grin turning sly. I saw a ghost of a smile playing on his lips as he did as I’d demanded. He laid his head down on my chest again, one arm wrapped around my waist. I rested my cheek against the top of his head and laid my own arm on his back, running my fingernails up and down his back.
“It’s okay,” I reiterated and closed my eyes. After a few minutes, I laid my arm on the surface of his skin.
“I didn’t tell you to stop,” he whispered, barely audible. I breathed a laugh. At least his sense of humor was returning. I resumed my previous motion. His sigh was relieved. “Thank you, hero.”