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It takes Kokomi a moment to figure out what roused her from her sleep, but as soon as she registers Gorou's whimpers, she's wide awake.
He's curled up on the futon to her left, facing away from her. The blankets he arranged so neatly the evening before are now kicked off and tangled up around him. In the soft glow of their night light, she can see his shoulders shaking as he whines and growls at invisible horrors. His ears and legs keep twitching, and although it's hard to see from this angle, she thinks his hands are clawing at his own arms where they're wrapped around his tail.
Kokomi wants nothing more than to hold him through it, but experience has taught her that he's likely to hurt her too if she tries, which will only make him feel even guiltier when he wakes up. All she can do is wait it out. She kneels on the floor next to him and settles in.
One agonizingly long minute later, he awakens, as indicated by that particular hitch of breath with which she's become so painfully familiar. Kokomi gives him a moment to get his bearings before she speaks.
"Gorou," she says as quietly as possible, but he still startles at the sound. "I'm here. You're awake now. It's okay."
He uncurls and rolls over so, so slowly, as though he doesn't want to look over and find out that she's not there after all. But the night light illuminates the tears in his eyes as they meet hers, and his breath shudders again, this time with pure, unadulterated relief.
"Kokomi," he whispers hoarsely, pushing himself up to sit. "Oh gods, Kokomi..."
She holds out her arms in invitation, and he accepts immediately, practically diving forward to sink into the embrace.
Kokomi presses a gentle kiss to the top of his head. "Do you want to talk about it?" she murmurs into his hair. He shakes his head, so she just holds him, providing a warm and grounded presence as he silently cries himself out into her shoulder.
When he finally pulls away, he sniffles quietly and wipes at his eyes. "I'm sorry," he whispers.
Kokomi shakes her head. "You have nothing to be sorry for."
Gorou suddenly winces, registering the sting of the scratches on his arms. His eyes widen in horror, and he grabs Kokomi's hands. "Did I hurt you?"
"You didn't hurt me," she promises. She waits patiently as he inspects her hands and arms despite her assurances. He practically sags with relief when he confirms her words with his own eyes.
"Here, hold your hands out," Kokomi instructs, cupping her own hands in demonstration. Gorou follows suit, and she summons a miniature jellyfish to dance in his palms, sending relief to his body with every pulse. After several seconds, its tiny body bursts into droplets of Hydro that dissipate back into the air.
"Thank you," Gorou murmurs.
Kokomi smiles sadly. "I only wish I could do more."
He looks down at his arms, and she follows his gaze to all of the scars there that will never fully fade, because he was too far from a healer when the wounds were inflicted. Unspoken between them lie also the internal scars: for him, the strain of leading the charge into battle, no matter how invigorating; for her, the pressure inherent in planning and organizing an entire war. They spend a moment lost in their own respective memories. The only sounds in the room are their quiet breathing, and the slight shifting of the building as the wind blows by outside.
Kokomi had the privilege of leading from behind the lines. While her role certainly came with its own forms of stress and regret, it can never fully compare to the way Gorou must have felt to see his comrades fall before his very eyes. There is nothing she can do to remove those memories from his mind. Likewise, he cannot go back in time and warn her about the mistakes she made that still haunt her. They both just have to move forward as best as they can, and support each other when they can't.
Gorou is the first to break the silence. "If it's okay... could we..." He tentatively holds out one hand, and Kokomi gives him a gentle smile, understanding immediately.
"Of course."
Gorou straightens out his futon, pulling the blankets back into a more organized state. The two of them settle back down, facing each other. Kokomi extends her own hand, and Gorou takes it, clinging to it like a lifeline.
(If he holds on a little too tightly... well. She's not going to tell him that. A little numbness is a small price to pay for his peace of mind.)
Together they drift back off to sleep. Mercifully, the rest of the night is free of dreams, and when they wake up the next morning, they both feel as if they have just a little more courage to face the day.