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Tonight, Miguel is silent. He is locked in his nightmares, voiceless and motionless, and Ryan doesn't come to wake him up. Miguel emerges from the dark, sticky dream, pushes away the blanket and sheet, gets up, swaying, and climbs to the top bunk.
Ryan doesn't wake up immediately; he wraps his arms around Miguel's waist and murmurs sleepily, and there is more trust in this than is generally possible in this place (especially with O'Reily). And it hurts Miguel so much to possess this (fragile). He struggles with fragile things.
"Nightmares?" Ryan asks. Miguel focuses on how Ryan's fingers massage his back, shoulder, arm. Grounding. Miguel runs his palm over the blanket. It's rough under his fingers. He reaches his hand under Ryan's shirt and feels the skin, smooth, warm from sleep. Ryan's chest moves, inhale and exhale, rising and falling beneath Miguel's palm.
Ryan is exhausted. Miguel sees that he's trying not to fall asleep again, that he's waiting for Miguel's response, waits to figure out how to help.
"Yeah, nightmares again."
After bad dreams, Miguel can't sleep for hours. Before, he would huddle in the corner of the cell, between the bed and the wall, just waiting for sleep to come or for the morning count. Ryan knows (he's seen).
"Do you want to practice?" he asks quietly.
Ryan isn't suggesting that Miguel do push-ups or solo-shadowboxing to calm down. No, he's ready to navigate through Miguel's restless mind together. He's prepared to get up in the middle of the night, grab a pillow instead of a punching bag, and distract Miguel from the heavy sleep, like he used to do for Cyril (ages ago).
"No, I don't. Can I just fall asleep here?" Miguel asks. (Here, where there is Ryan, warm and breathing, right under his hands).
"Sure," Ryan agrees without hesitation, running his fingers over Miguel's head, massaging the skin behind his ears, rubbing his neck and the back of his head, soothing. Gradually, the movements slow down, and Ryan quietly falls asleep.
Throughout all this time, they never once slept in the same bed. Always cautious. And now, Ryan O'Reily didn't even hesitate (morning сount, the eyes of others). Miguel is overwhelmed with gratitude; he presses into Ryan's body, cups his face in his palms, and kisses his eyelids. Ryan grimaces but doesn't wake up. Deep shadows rest on his cheeks and under his eyes. Ryan is thin, almost to the point of exhaustion; he only recently started eating again. (Miguel made him).
Miguel falls asleep, looking into Ryan's face, and sleeps peacefully until morning.
After that, they lie down together every night. In the evenings, they climb into one bed and squeeze into each other. Miguel missed this so much in Oz. He longed not only for the sky, rain, and the absence of walls. He missed this possibility — to willingly find himself in the same bed, skin to skin, with someone else, to fall asleep with them, to wake up with them (because it's safe, because he chose it). Together, here, they feel human.
Now both of them have nightmares less frequently.