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Max has always been incredibly jealous of how easily sleep comes to other people.
He has struggled with insomnia for as long as he can remember. Long before he understands that his dreams are more than just dreams. Long before he starts trying to avoid sleeping altogether by snorting cocaine until he's bouncing off the walls and not sure which ghosts are real and which aren't.
Now, he's creeping up on a year of sobriety, he's fully embraced the dreams for what they are, and he's actually earning a stable income for the first time in his life. The bags under his eyes, however, are permanent fixtures, prematurely aging him. Which would really fuck with his self-esteem if he wasn't already in a healthy relationship.
Liv is curled up on her side of the bed with Samson resting similarly at her feet. What a showoff.
Despite himself, Max feels his face breaking into a smile. He can't help it–she looks so peaceful like this, eyelashes resting against her cheeks, lips parted ever so slightly. Not a trace of that scowl she puts on, the one that their friends see. The one that makes them say his girl is "kinda mean and scary".
Liv stirs in her sleep. Unconsciously, she snuggles closer to Max, nestling her head on his shoulder and clinging to his side like a koala.
Mean and scary. Right.
With his free hand, he brushes dark hair out of her face, fingertips grazing her cheek. He doesn't mean to wake her, but he must have used a little too much pressure. Her face briefly scrunches up, and then her eyelashes flutter.
"Hm?" she hums, long and drawn out. Her voice is rough with sleep, eyes barely opening to look at Max in confusion. "What is it?"
"Nothing," he whispers, cradling her head and easing it back down against his chest. "Go back to sleep."
"What's wrong?" Liv insists, voice muffled. "Another nightmare?"
"It's nothing, promise."
He strokes her hair, and she drops it, too relaxed to push the subject for once.
The small commotion also wakes Samson, who pads up to the top of the bed and sniffs at Liv's hair.
"No, Samson. It's not playtime," Max says as Liv groans in frustration.
Thankfully, he listens. With a snort, he spins twice before plopping down behind Liv, pushing the three of them together.
"Good boy." Max reaches past Liv to languidly give Samson's head a pat.
"Now, go back to sleep," Liv adds, although it lacks any bite whatsoever.
Max chuckles before pressing a kiss to her forehead. "G'night, Livvy."
"G'night."
If he has to be awake, at least he's awake in a king-sized bed, on clean sheets, with his whole world in his arms.