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Always a light sleeper, Arthur awakes when he hears a whimper. Just like before they went to sleep, he lies with his front pressed to Micah’s back, one arm slung over Micah’s chest and the other trapped beneath his sleeping partner. His fingers tingle numbly, but Arthur doesn’t ease his arm out from under him, instead focusing on Micah.
Curled in on himself, Micah twitches in his sleep, letting out a shuddering breath. He whimpers again, the vulnerable little sound breaking Arthur’s heart. This is hardly the first time he’s found Micah like this, but listening to Micah having a nightmare never gets easier.
So, like Micah once requested he do, Arthur attempts to wake him. Placing his hand flat against Micah’s chest (feeling Micah’s racing heart), Arthur rubs slow, gentle circles through his shirt. “Micah,” he whispers, trying to pull Micah out of his sleep. “Wake up. You’re only dreamin’.”
Luckily, Micah is an even lighter sleeper than Arthur, flinching into consciousness seconds later. He drags in a wheezy breath, his body going rigid in Arthur’s embrace. His head turns in the darkness, confused and disorientated; Arthur knows that Micah struggles to realize he’s awake, thinking he’s still trapped inside his head for a few seconds.
So, knowing what (or, rather, who) haunts Micah’s nightmares, Arthur whispers, “He ain’t here. It’s just you and me. You’re safe, Micah.”
“C-Cowpoke?” Micah mumbles.
“Yeah, it’s me. You ain’t there anymore.”
Micah lets out a bitter laugh. “I know that,” he mutters, trying to sound rude and cocky, but not managing to inject much venom into his voice. “I fuckin’ know. He’s dead. I know… but…”
“I know. The dreams won’t stop,” Arthur says. “But you’re okay.”
“Idiot,” Micah says. “But… thanks, I guess…”
“You’re welcome,” he says, smiling when Micah chuckles.