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Simon blinked awake, a creeping sense of anxiety pulling him from his sleep. It only takes a couple seconds for him to realize that he’s alone in bed, and then that the sky had likely only just started to lighten, no longer the vast abyss of midnight blue but a gradient of void to ocean as the sun rose. Clouds gathered on the horizon, true to the forecast's promise of rain for the next few days. Not that they minded, it’d be good for their garden.
Their.
It was unusual for Simon to wake up alone, and more so to be the second one awake. The first few times it had happened, early in their retirement, Simon had panicked. He’d jumped out of bed and frantically searched the house for his love. He’d always find Johnny standing by the downstairs windows, silently watching the sunrise. There was a certain heaviness to those days, weighing down on Johnny like the clouds in the sky, heavy with unfallen rain.
As Simon had picked up on the routine of how these days went, he’d no longer panic when Johnny wasn’t tucked into his side when he woke. He knew, without fail, that his Johnny would be upstairs soon, to curl up into his arms again, and Simon would welcome him eagerly.
It was an honor, for Simon, to be Johnny’s safe space on these days. When something, something even Johnny himself couldn't really identify, pulled him down into its depths. Sometimes they’d be there for only a short time, Johnny using the time to ground himself before taking a deep breath and facing the day. But other times, and today, as Simon is gathering from the slow footsteps making their way up the short staircase, their day would pass by from the bed.
Sure enough, only moments later, Johnny shuffled his way into the bedroom, head hung as he shut the door quietly. He turned around, seeing Simon awake, Johnny's blue eyes rimmed red with unshed years. Simon pulled the blankets back, opening the unspoken invitation into the safety of his embrace. Johnny blinked for a moment, Simon could see the haze of sadness in his eyes, and the poor man wilted. His shoulders sunk as he walked to the bed, collapsing into Simon’s space with a poorly concealed sniffle.
The blankets were pulled back up around them, Simon helping Johnny get into a comfortable position.
“It’s alright, my love.” Simon whispered, running a hand through the fluffy, overgrown mohawk he loved so dearly. “I’m here.”
Johnny curled up into him, shoved his face into the crook of his neck as he took a deep breath. Simon could tell he was fighting tears by the tension in his body, the way he shrunk away from the world rather than getting closer to him. Simon wrapped one arm over his shoulders, hand beginning its journey of slow, soothing circles around Johnny’s back. The other continued the gentle combing through his hair, the occasional scratch at Johnny’s scalp when Simon thought he was too tense.
Eventually the dam would break and the tears would fall. Simon would feel the drip.. drip.. drip.. of tears onto his neck and his heart would break. He hated how much his Johnny was hurting, the way the heaviness settled in his chest like a stone. Simon wanted to dig it out and keep it for himself, he knew how strongly Johnny felt everything, the good and the bad. But he couldn’t, so instead he would open his arms for his love to feel safe, comforted. He’d hold space for him to feel the sadness, until eventually the day would pass. The sun would rise the next morning, hidden by the clouds and the rain, but Simon would wake up with his lover in his arms, still fast asleep and safe.