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That bolted straight up in bed, sweat dripping down his forehead, his body shivering and shaking. He distantly noticed that his throat was burning and dry -- he must have been screaming in his sleep, but he wasn’t sure. He couldn’t hear if he was still screaming or not. The room was dark and he couldn’t see and he couldn’t breathe. His hands flew up, one pressing against his chest, fingers bunching his shirt into a tight fist, and the other against his open mouth. The hand over his mouth moved to his forehead as he bent forward, folding in two as staggered air finally and blissfully entered his lungs. He was vaguely aware of the tears pouring from his eyes and down his face, dripping onto his blanket and streaming down his neck in a race to soak his t-shirt. Sobs wracked his body as his still-uneven breathing made his chest tighten and ache. He could hear the noises coming from his mouth now, and the loud sobs of anguish would have broken his heart had he witnessed them coming from someone else. He felt like he was dying, but he’d been much closer to death before and knew somewhere in the back of his mind that this was temporary.
After what felt like hours but was likely only minutes, his vision evened out and he was able to think a little more coherently. That moved the hand clutching his shirt to feel around his bed for his phone. It was tucked under an unused pillow just like it had been when he went to sleep, unmoved as if nothing happened. And maybe nothing did happen, not physically anyway, but that didn’t stop his chest from heaving and his tears from flowing. He lifted his phone and the brightness of the screen made him flinch before he could read the time. 4:29am. He unlocked his phone and tapped on a contact, placing his call despite the late -- or early -- hour, knowing that he would get an answer.
“Phi?” Sorn answered the phone on the second ring and hearing his voice made the tightness in That’s chest loosen just a little. He still couldn’t get any words out, the noises coming from his mouth cutting off every attempt to articulate. “That? That, just breathe, okay? It’s okay, I’m here, just focus on my voice. I’m right here. Just breathe.”
This wasn’t the first time that this had happened, so That really shouldn’t be that shocked that Sorn calmed him so effortlessly. But he was still taken aback by the relief that flooded through him when he could hear the other’s voice, and maybe he always would be. Minutes passed as That tried to regain control of himself, tried to reign in the fear and pain and horror, all while Sorn spoke calmingly and encouragingly into his ear. Eventually, the sobs that had kept him from speaking calmed enough for him to get a few broken words out. “Nightmare,” he said shakily. “They killed you. They killed you and I was back in that closet and-”
He cut himself off with a choked off sort of noise as the tears kept flowing incessantly down his face. One hand gripped his phone as the other held onto his wrist like an anchor. His eyes were forcefully squeezed shut, his face scrunching up as he tried to block out everything but Sorn’s voice. Some nights talking about what happened in his dreams made it better -- easier to face -- but tonight wasn’t one of those nights. The second he tried to recount the nightmare, his body tensed all over again and the tears came harder than before.
“I’m coming over, That. It’s okay, I’ll be over in just a few minutes, I promise. I’m coming.” That wanted to tell him that it was after 4 in the morning, that he should be asleep by now, that he shouldn’t come all the way here just for a few tears. He wanted to tell Sorn to go back to sleep and he would be fine on his own. But he couldn’t. He knew that he needed Sorn in that moment. That could hear him running around his room to grab clothes and throw on shoes. He heard him leaving his room, walking through the house, stepping out the front door. Heard him locking the door behind him, his footsteps against pavement, the start of a motorbike. It was comforting, in a way, to have these sounds as confirmation that Sorn was fine, that he was okay and safe. “I have to hang up while I drive now, okay, Phi? I’ll be there in just a couple minutes, okay?”
He was clearly waiting for an actual answer, so That choked out an “Okay.” He heard Sorn’s last few words of comfort before he heard the soft click of the phone call ending. He dropped his phone somewhere next to him on the bed and fell back into a lying position before curling onto his side. His hands clutched his sides as he tried to force his breathing to even out, force his tears to stop. It always felt more dramatic than it was, feeling like the pain and fear would last forever. But soon, his exhaustion would win out over the emotions and his tears would stop on their own. Tonight was no exception to this rule and his sobbing had all but stopped before Sorn even had a chance to arrive, leaving him with jarring hiccups and sniffles.
That had no idea how much time had passed since Sorn had hung up the phone when he heard a knock on his front door and the distinct sound of the lock turning. He had given Sorn a key for several reasons, reasons that include nights like tonight when one of them needed the other and waiting for the door to be unlocked felt like a lifetime. Some nights when Sorn was overwhelmed, he didn’t have the emotional energy to call before he came over and That, having gone to sleep alone, would wake up to the mattress dipping and arms wrapping around him. He had yet to find a downside to Sorn having a key.
“That,” Sorn called now from the other side of the bedroom door as he tapped lightly. The knock was just to alert his presence -- That told him long ago that he need not knock to come in. The door swung gently open as Sorn walked in and rushed to That’s side, kneeling next to the bed to get a good look at him. That didn’t have the energy to sit up or say anything, he simply turned his head to look at him. Seeing him here, in person, alive, was enough to ease That into a deep exhale before another hiccup jolted his breath away. Sorn’s look of concern was not eased by this, but he put his hand on That’s face. One hand cupped his jaw while the other one carded comfortingly through his hair. “I’m here. I’m okay, we’re okay.”
Sorn continued to murmur words of assurance, reminding him that it was just a dream and that they are both safe, as That nuzzled into his hand. He knew Sorn didn’t expect him to speak now that he was here in person to make sure he was okay. On bad nights, he sometimes didn’t breathe a word. Sorn was a saint in his eyes, one who didn’t push him when he couldn’t handle the push, who didn’t force him to talk when he couldn’t but was always there to listen when he could. One who could fill the unbearable silence when That was drowning in it. That couldn’t close his eyes -- was scared to blink -- as Sorn held his face; what if he closed his eyes and, when he opened them, his saint was gone?
Sorn shifted upward as if to leave, eventually, sending That into a panic. That made a strangled noise as Sorn stood, his hands shooting out toward him. Sorn dropped back to his knees, grabbing That’s hands in his own. “I was only going to get you some water, Phi. Your hiccups aren’t going away and I’m sure you’re dehydrated. Do you want to come with me?”
That weighed his options. He knew Sorn would insist on taking care of him in the right ways, including that glass of water, so he could either stay in the bed alone or go with Sorn to the kitchen. The idea of facing the empty darkness by himself again, of losing sight of Sorn, had him pushing himself into a sitting position. Sorn helped him stand, keeping his hands on him the entire time, even as they left the bedroom and headed toward the kitchen. Once in the kitchen, Sorn lowered That into a chair at the dining table and busied himself with getting a glass of water. That’s eyes didn’t leave him the entire time, not even as he pushed the water into That’s hands and urged him to drink slowly.
“Small sips, That, small sips.” That did as he was told because, as much as he didn’t want to be drinking the water, Sorn would only do what was best for him. After he had finished just over half the glass, he sat it down and pushed it away. Sorn smiled at him for his efforts.
“Why don’t we get you cleaned up? Do you want a shower?” That shook his head at the question, knowing that he didn’t have the energy to stand in the shower tonight. “Okay, we’ll just get you changed and clean your face okay? C’mon.”
Sorn gently helped That into a standing position and led him to the bathroom. He closed the lid of the toilet and gestured for That to take a seat, which That was grateful for. Once he was seated, Sorn began his ministrations. He carefully pulled That’s tear-damp, sweat-soaked shirt over his head and dropped it into the dirty laundry. Next came That’s sleep pants, during which he nudged That to stand for a moment as he pulled them off, leaving him in only his boxer shorts. There was nothing sexual about this interaction like That might have thought if he had seen it before everything they’ve been through. This was just Sorn caring for That in the best way he knew how.
That watched as Sorn turned on the sink, grabbing a washcloth from the cabinet as he let the water get warm. Once he soaked the cloth in warm water, he knelt in front of That to wipe his face and neck free of the tears that had started to make his skin itch. Then, he moved on to That’s arms, his chest, his abdomen, his legs. It wasn’t a shower and he wouldn’t feel as clean as he would with one, but it did wonders to make him feel better -- to at least have that top layer of salty sweat gone from his body.
Sorn placed a gentle kiss on his forehead before guiding him into a standing position and moving him back to the bedroom. Once That was seated on the bed, he went to the dresser to grab a new set of pajamas for him. When That was fully dressed and back in bed, Sorn shed his own jeans and hoodie that he had thrown on to ride over and put on a pair of That’s gym shorts and one of his old worn out t-shirts. He flipped off the light in the bathroom which had been bleeding into the bedroom before climbing into bed next to That.
That rolled over to lay on his side to look at Sorn in the near-darkness, the sun already beginning to rise and soften the edges of darkness that had been creeping at the corners of his mind. His hand reached up to hold Sorn’s face, his thumb stroking his cheekbone. Sorn smiled at him and wrapped his arms around his middle.
“Thank you,” That whispered, his voice barely audible. “For everything.”
“Of course, Phi. You would do the same for me.” And he would -- he had . They both had done this routine or something very similar more times than either cared to count. But they would do it again and again, as many times as the other needed. They weren’t magically okay after everything that happened to them, even if there was a happy ending to it. But they were working on it, and they were working on it together . They would rise and fall and smile and sob and ache and laugh and live through this, and they would be at each other’s side for all of it. That smiled the widest smile he could manage tonight and pulled Sorn into him as Sorn whispered once again into the quiet air. “Get some rest, That. You deserve some rest.”
Sorn pressed one last kiss to That’s hair as the two of them closed their eyes to sleep, content to know that they were safe and that they were together. No matter what else happened, they were together.