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“He can't hurt us anymore.” She soothed, the promise warm against his scalp.
Hands balled into limp fists, taking the shape of defense with none of the power. He was too tired for that. “He already has.”
The arms around him squeezed tight. Her voice remained steady, though he knew beneath it she was screaming, pounding the message into his thick skull. “Never again.”
He'd sworn to her the same thing more times than he could count. It was mutual, the way they assured each other while struggling to believe it themselves. A leg hooked around one of his, a platonic bid for more contact, something to ground them both. It helped.
Dangerous as it was, he debated falling asleep here. Being held like this eased the knot of anxiety in his gut, left him calm and comfortable even with the concrete pressing into his shoulder blades.
There were less stars out tonight than he had hoped. A light breeze blew around them, but they were already laying on the only blanket they'd brought. They both wore sets with shorts to sleep, and he could feel that she was just as chilly as he was. He kind of regretted suggesting a night on the roof. In a few weeks, when summer rolled around, he would try again.
Despite it, his eyes slipped closed beneath the mask. If they were in her room, where it was warm and there was a real bed and the door locked, he would set it to the side and pull the covers up to his chin while she read him to sleep. For now he would have to make do with her breath in his hair and the sounds of the city in his ears.