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“Morpheus,” you said. “I don’t feel so good.”
It was late at night and you were in your tiny apartment, stretched out on the sofa with a laptop on your lap. Morpheus sat at the kitchen table with a dozen books spread out on it. Both of you were searching for something to help you in your pursuit of a rogue Nightmare that had escaped into the Waking world. You’d been tracking it all day.
Morpheus instantly cast aside the book he was reading in favour of paying full attention to you.
“I feel…” You thought about it, trying to find the right words to describe the strange feeling that had snuck up on you. “Pale. Cold. Like I might faint if I stand up.”
As you spoke he had risen from his chair and walked around the sofa to stand in front of you. He placed his hand against your forehead.
“You do not have a temperature.” His hand dropped to your neck and found your pulse point. “Your heart is pounding.” He frowned, then looked at the laptop resting on your legs. He closed the lid and put it on the coffee table. “You should stop working,” he declared, and noticing the protest forming on your lips added, “at least for tonight. I fear I have overworked you.”
“I wanted to help.”
“And you have, my love, but it has taken a toll on your body. You can help me again tomorrow once you have rested.” He bent down and before you could think about what was happening he had scooped you up into his arms, one hand placed behind your knees and the other cradling your back.
You sucked in a gasp from the unexpected movement.
“What are you doing?” you said, looping your arms around his neck to steady yourself. Not that you needed to, it was a habit more than anything, since there was absolutely no chance he would drop you.
“You said you would faint if you stood,” he answered. He looked down at you, a sparkle in his eyes. “I could not take that risk. And if the solution was to hold you in my arms, how could I resist?”
He carried you into the bedroom.
Proportionate to the rest of the apartment, it was a small room that only just accommodated a double bed. Opposite the door was a window that looked out onto the sleeping city. Beads of water raced down it. You hadn’t realised it was raining.
Morpheus gently lowered you onto the bed then turned to close the curtains. The room was bathed in darkness except for the faint orange glow of the living room lights that found its way through the open door. There was enough light to make out his form as he faced you again. His eyes were pitch black.
There were moments you forgot Morpheus was not like you. He was not human, despite his usual appearance. And then something would happen that would remind you. He would say something, make reference to something that had happened millennia ago as though he was there because he was. Or you would fall ill and he would nurse you through it, never once leaving your side until you recovered. And through it all, he would never catch the sickness himself despite the proximity to it. You’d never seen him so much as sneeze.
So, when he looked at you then, the dark of his eyes all-encompassing, the light hitting them in such a way it was like he held entire galaxies within them, you were once again struck by that realisation.
He was not human.
He was not a god.
He was something other. Something more.
Wanting him near, you held your hand out to him. He took it and bent down to press a single kiss to your knuckles.
“I need to retrieve something. I will not be gone for long,” he said, straightening up and leaving the room. You didn’t know where he’d gone. He always moved about so quietly that you could never pinpoint his exact location until he interacted with something in the apartment. For all you knew, he could have traveled somewhere else entirely, but then you heard the unmistakable noise of the refrigerator door open and close.
While waiting for him to return, you switched on a bedside lamp, shrugged out of your clothes and dressed for bed. Then you got back onto the bed and leaned against the cushioned headboard.
A few minutes later, a delicious smell wafted into your room. Your stomach grumbled.
“When did you last eat?” Morpheus said, coming back with a tray of food in his hands.
You shrugged. “Earlier.”
“I believe we have found the root of your problem.”
“Ah.” you said, understanding your sudden wooziness. “My bad.” It wasn’t the first time you’d forgotten to eat dinner and it surely wouldn’t be the last.
Morpheus settled the tray on your lap. He’d prepared your favourite food. You thanked him and ate your fill as Morpheus settled onto the bed beside you, his feet crossed at the ankle, an arm thrown behind his head, and his eyes closed.
You watched the steady rise and fall of his chest. If you didn’t know him, you would have thought he had fallen asleep.
Then, realising you’d stopped eating momentarily, he peeked an eye open to look up at you. “What are you thinking about?” He often asked you that question and when you had questioned him why, his response was always the same: he wanted to know everything about you. Whenever the chance arose, he would always reassure you that he would never grow tired of the inner workings of your mind. Your thoughts fascinated him.
“I’m thankful that I have you in my life.”
He hummed. A deep, contented sound that reminded you of a purring lion.
He rolled onto his side and traced a pattern onto the exposed skin of your lower back from where your top had ridden up. His touch was cool and firm. Soothing. He continued the motion until you finished eating then he took the tray from you and placed it on the bedside table.
While he did that you got into the bed and snuggled down under the sheets, facing him on your side. He joined you a moment later.
“How do you feel?” he asked, placing a hand on your waist. The gentle sound of rain filled the moments of silence.
“Much better now, thank you.” You pressed closer to him so that your faces were inches apart.
“Good,” he said, staring lovingly at you, but a few minutes later, when you had stopped talking and he was satisfied you were fine, his eyes drifted from yours.
You were well acquainted with the many emotions Morpheus felt but rarely, if ever, showed. It was that reason you knew something was troubling him.
“What’s wrong?” you asked softly. “Tell me.”
“The Nightmare…” he began, a small crease forming between his brows which you tried to smooth away with your following words.
“I feel fine, Morpheus, believe me. You can go and search for it, if you want, don’t let me stop you. It would be a waste of your time to stay here while it is out there wrecking havoc. The sooner it’s caught, the better. Go. I’ll be fine.”
He opened his mouth to speak, but you placed a finger on his lips. His frown line finally eased when you said, “Before you ask, yes, I’m sure.”
He searched your eyes and found nothing but the truth. You removed your hand and he said, “I will go, but not before I have seen you into the Dreaming.” With your approval, he then leaned forward and pressed a kiss to your forehead causing a drowsiness to overcome you.
Before you closed your eyes, you murmured, “Good luck. Don’t have all of the fun without me.”
“I will be here when you wake.”