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How did everything go so wrong.
Flashes of light, echoing sounds, wafting smells. It was enough to make you nauseous. The wanderers were swarming and it was never ending. Your guns were ripped from your hands, and the claymore lay at your feet in pieces. And still the surge never stopped.
An intense pain split your chest, making you falter. Looking down, a sickle-like appendage erupted from your body, coated in your blood and viscera. It was over. Everything you fought for was for naught. Your vision blurred and you began the slow descent to the blood-soaked ground and…
You awoke with a start, drenched in sweat. The searing pain in your chest quickly changed to a dull ache once you gained your bearing. The domed glass ceiling perfectly framed the full moon, and the soft silk of the sheets beneath you helped to ground you in this reality.
A nightmare. It had just been a nightmare.
You were glad it wasn’t such a common occurrence anymore. When you went on your first few missions to fight wanderers, the fear you locked away surfaced in your sleep the very same night. But it had been some time since then, and a few months since your last nightmare of a similar vein. This time, though, you were in Rafayel’s bed instead of alone in your own.
You focused on the events from the previous evening to help anchor your mind. The dinner you had, and then the intimacy shared after. Anything to calm your thundering heart and to ease the anxiety. You reached over, expecting Rafayel to still be asleep beside you, but you found the space empty and the sheets cool to the touch. You tried to swallow down the disappointment, but it still left a bitter taste in the back of your throat. You sat up and pushed your hair out of your face, looking across the room to where you knew the bathroom to be. The light was off, so you turned your attention to the door instead. It was dim, but you could see a faint light coming from the cracked door. Oh! The studio. Of course. Rafayel was known to bow to the whims of late night inspiration, so you felt foolish for not even thinking of checking there for him.
You weren’t even sure why you sought comfort from him for a silly nightmare, something that you should be able to handle on your own as an adult. Wrapping yourself in one of his cardigans, you took in his floral and sea salt scent and padded down the hallway. You hesitated in the doorway of the studio, at war with yourself. One part of you said to stop being childish and just go back to bed, while the other urged your feet forward. Caving to the latter, you quietly stalked across the studio towards him.
He stood in front of a finished canvas, a cup of tea in hand while he just stared at the painting, searching for some minute detail he may have missed. You always poked fun at him for the weird behaviour, but he always chuckled and told you “it’s just an artist thing”. His brocade robe was belted, showcasing the contrast between his broad shoulders and narrowed waist. A small smile curled the corners of your mouth at the sweet memory of being wrapped around him just hours before.
So lost in thought was he, that he didn’t even realize you stood directly behind him. You tilted your head forward, resting your forehead against his back. Just that small contact was enough to ease the tension from your shoulders, tension you hadn’t realized you’d carried with you. He set his cup down and turned to face you.
“What’re you doing awake, Cutie?” He said softly. You clenched your jaw, debating on whether to admit that you’d been bothered by a nightmare or not. When you didn’t look at him, his hand came up under your chin to lift your face to his. You weren’t sure what he saw in your eyes, but he frowned.
“What’s wrong?” Something about the gentleness of his voice, the concern in his eyes, struck you hard and you blinked back the sting of tears. A single one escaped, and his hand came up to cup your cheek, wiping that stray away with the pad of his thumb. You closed your eyes, turning your face into his touch.
With a deep breath you looked up at him and shrugged. “It was just a dumb nightmare.”
“Oh, sweetheart,” he said, pulling you to him and folding you into a hug. His warmth and scent surrounded you, and you sunk into him. Yeah, this was exactly what you needed.
“I’m sorry I wasn’t there when you woke up,” he said, resting his cheek on your head and rocking you back and forth. You hugged him tighter.
“It’s okay, you’re right here.”
You stood in his embrace for an indiscernible amount of time, but you wouldn’t wish to be anywhere else except right there in his arms. But eventually, he did release you to kiss you on the forehead and to douse the light. He led you back to his room by way of moonlight, tucking you into his bed and climbing in behind you. He curled around you, and it was hard to describe the emotion that swelled in your heart when he started humming to you to lull you back to sleep.
Safe.
It’d been a while since you felt safe like that, but he embodied that peace when he held you in his arms. And it was something you would be forever grateful to him for.
You slept soundly for the remainder of the night, waking in the early hours of the morning to him smiling softly down at you. Your turned in his arms to face him, nuzzling into his chest and murmuring a soft “thank you” to him. He stroked your hair, twirling the ends around his fingers while you talked about everything and nothing with each other. He didn’t ask about the nightmare, and for that you were grateful.
The rest of the day was spent in bed, not a single care for the world outside it.