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It's been years and Keith still has nightmares. Jon does too, but he's always been quieter about it, letting his pillow muffle his sobs. Keith screams in his sleep.
"Wake up, old man," Jon says. These days, Keith doesn't run from his hands like he did in the beginning. He wakes up, but with tears in his eyes and hands clenched into fists.
"Dream?" Keith asks, his voice rough.
"Dream," Jon confirms.
"Damn."
"Yeah," Jon says.
Keith rolls towards the wall and Jon climbs into the bed without another word. Two minutes later they are both back asleep.
***
In the morning, things are as they ever are.
"The toast is burnt," Keith whines. "When are you going to learn to program the toaster."
"Toasters shouldn't have to be programed! They're not a damn VCR. And it'd be fine if you didn't insist on fake bread."
"It's not fake. It's gluten free. And no one's programmed a VCR in twenty years, at least."
"Whatever."
"Even your slang is old."
***
Keith always knows when Jon is having a nightmare, even from across the hall. First, he's not as quiet as he thinks, and second, Jon snores, a lot. At 4 am, when the apartment is silent, Jon is crying.
Keith uses Jon's own tactics, crawling into bed with the other man and holding on. It's been keeping them sane for years, even when the touch of anyone else's hand had been like fire on his skin.