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It's strange to think how darkness could be as comforting as it is, especially when you've been subjected to as many horrors as Simon has been. There was a time when lying in the darkness would fill him with dread, with a bone-deep fear that only every light in his room could chase away. Now the darkness was comforting, being able to hide within the darkness so no one could see the scars littering his body, no one could see just how truly broken he was. No sounds in the air to remind him of the terrors he's faced and only barely escaped. Just an endless darkness, the cold comforting embrace of nothing to trick him into thinking he's died and is floating in limbo.
"Are you being an angsty teen again?" The teasing voice cut through the silence of the night as Simon forced his eyes open, gazing up at Johnny, who was leaning over him and smiling down at him with such kind eyes. He couldn't speak, couldn't open his mouth, his jaw clenched too tightly, the muscles hard as bone and stuck in place, not like he'd have anything to say in response to Johnny's quip. Anything he did say would have been like throwing gasoline on an open flame in a dry wheat field. Instead, he furrowed his brows, his hands gripping the heavy duvet on his chest so tight his knuckles were a pale bone color.
"Yeah, you are," Johnny chuckled, his smile lopsided and cheeky as he moved further to lean over Simon, gently taking his face in his hands. Simon relaxed, if only minutely, into his warm, callused hands, the rough texture of his fingers having a strange soothing effect on him as Johnny gently prodded around the hinge of his jaw. He grunted low in his chest as he pressed against the tense muscle and could have wept as he felt the tension slowly ease up. His mouth popped open as he whined low in his throat, tears clinging to his pale lashes as he gasped for breath, air filling his lungs rapidly and allowing his body to relax.
He hadn't realized how difficult it had been to breathe before, his vision blurry now that he was getting oxygen back to his brain. "Just breathe for me," Johnny whispered, cupping Simon's jaw and tilting his head back, allowing more air to rush down his throat and into his lungs, "Slow and steady there, love, you were hyperventilating before you woke up."
Johnny's presence and the accent of his words occupied Simon's mind, driving the last remnants of his nightmares away until they were nothing more than a distant, unpleasant memory. His breathing slowed, his chest rising higher as he turned his face into Johnny's palm, feeling its warmth in contrast to his clammy skin, letting it ground him more in the moment.
The longer he lay in bed, the more aware he became of his body, of the sweat that clung to every centimeter of how his clothes stuck to him in uncomfortable ways. Moving made it worse, the sheets damp and cold, and wholly unpleasant even if he had woken up like this more often than not in the past few weeks. He wondered if the wet sheets were what woke Johnny up, but if he thought about it more, he knew it was probably whatever noises he was making before he forced himself out of the nightmare.
"What do you need, Si?" Johnny asked, gently stroking his thumb along the coarse stubble on Simon's cheek.
Simon needed a lot of things at that moment: new sheets and clothes, a night without nightmares, and probably an increase in some anti-psychotics as well as more frequent visits to his therapist. His mind filled with a long list of things he needed, but when he moved his legs to try and make himself comfortable, the cold, wet fabric clinging to him made one need shoot to the forefront of his mind and temporarily returned his voice, "Shower."
"You got it," Johnny nodded, moving his hands off Simon's face and carefully untangling his fingers from the duvet before pulling the heavy weight back and letting it drop to the floor at the foot of their bed. The sheets followed, the top sheet getting pulled off and crumpled into a ball before Johnny tossed it into the corner of the room. The shock of cold air was just what Simon needed; the goosebumps covering his skin dashing away the last dredges of sleep, of darkness, clinging to him as he sat up, turning to sit on the edge of the bed, watching as Johnny flitted around their room getting the shower ready, pulling out new sheets and setting them aside on the night stand.
Just as steam was beginning to fill the bathroom, Johnny came back to Simon's side, resting his warm callused hand on his shoulder, "Need any help washing up?" he asked, a playful grin on his lips and his eyebrows waggling.
Simon knew it wasn't just a playful offer; it was his way of offering to give Simon company, to give him a distraction from his mind, and if it was a different nightmare, he might have taken him up on it. Johnny never knew what he was going to get when Simon woke from one of his dreams, didn't know if he'd be nonverbal and flighty, or if he'd be violent and quick to snap. Simon took a moment to take stock of himself. He breathed deep, feeling his lungs expand, and realized that words would be difficult, but he wasn't untethered; he didn't need Johnny's anchor tonight.
He shook his head, giving Johnny a tired smile as he pushed to his feet, grimacing at the damp fabric clinging to him, and made his way to the bathroom, stripping the sweat-soaked clothes from his body and letting them drop by the hamper near the door. Just before he crossed the threshold of the bathroom, he looked back at Johnny and nodded his head to the sheets he picked out, hoping he knew what he was asking of him.
"You got it, big guy," Johnny grinned, stripping the rest of the sheets off as Simon closed the door and stepped into the shower, letting the hot water wash over him and clear away the sweat clinging to his skin.
He didn't know how long he stood in the shower, took his time slowly rubbing a washcloth sudsy with soap across his body until he felt clean again. Washed his hair until he could hear it squeak between his fingers. At one point, he found himself just sitting on the shower floor, letting the water pelt against his head as he leaned against the cold tile, letting the dual sensation remind him he was awake.
By the time he was turning off the water, he'd used all the heat in their water heater, his skin prickly with gooseflesh as he leaned over to turn off the water and grab the towel hanging just outside of the shower. He dried off slowly, rubbing the warm towel Johnny had set out for him, ridding his skin of the water droplets before wrapping the towel loosely around his head as he grabbed the clothes waiting for him on the counter.
Simon huffed out a soft laugh, noticing the distinct lack of a certain article of clothing. He had an old, threadbare shirt he knew Johnny had stolen from him months ago and a pair of boxer briefs. No sign of pants, be it joggers, soft flannels, or even basketball shorts. He rolled his eyes as he got dressed, letting the chill of the night air further soothe him as he stepped out of the bathroom, tossing his damp towel to the rest of his laundry.
Johnny had finished making the bed, the sheets dry and ready for their return, it felt nice on his skin as he slipped back in, breathing a sigh of relief as the light weight of the duvet settled over him. He hummed, reaching out for Johnny, waiting for him to join him back in the bed, and relaxed further when the lighter weight of one of Simon's weighted blankets was settled over him instead.
"I thought this would be better than the weighted duvet," Johnny explained, climbing into bed finally and pressing into Simon's side, "Not as many layers, won't feel like you're getting you know… buried."
There wasn't much that Simon spoke about when it came to his time in Mexico; he barely brought it up with his therapist, wanting to keep everything about that time buried, but he'd shared some with Johnny, some of the more traumatic parts. Johnny had soaked up every word he said like a sponge, memorizing every detail Simon felt him worthy of knowing, and even now, he was using those details to try and soothe Simon, to make his recovery from a nightmare easier on him.
Simon still couldn't find his voice, but he wrapped his arm around Johnny, pulling him closer, squeezing him in gratitude for the efforts. He breathed deep, filling his lungs with Johnny's scent and letting the warm, dry sheets work their magic of soothing him further, allowing his body to relax as he buried his face into Johnny's neck, hiding himself from the world and surrounding himself with only his lover.
"I got you," Johnny whispered into the soft curls on Simon's head, "Even if you don't sleep anymore tonight, I got you. You can relax, you can rest."
Sleep was something near impossible for Simon to capture after a nightmare, the risk of falling right back where it had ended too great, but Johnny's warmth, his scent, the weight of his body against his. It was everything he needed to let the gentle tug of sleep pull him back under. His eyes slipped shut as he pressed his nose into the hollow of Johnny's throat and let the darkness of sleep claim him.
For a moment, he feared he was right back where he started, the vast nothingness that Johnny had teased him about, calling it angsty, but soon it began to lighten. The inky blackness faded to a pewter gray, shapes taking form in the distance, solid ground coming into view until Simon wasn't floating aimlessly anymore and instead was sitting on something solid. The longer he watched, the more the scene lightened before finally settling on the hazy early morning fog he remembered from his time in Scotland.
He recognized the wood under him; he was on a porch, the same smooth grain he and Johnny would sit on every morning while drinking their tea or coffee after breakfast. The rolling hills of the countryside stretched out before them as he felt Johnny press into his back, wrapping an arm around his waist to hold him against his chest.
Simon sighed, relaxing back as he brought the warm mug of tea up to his lips, taking a slow sip, letting the memory of the warm drink settle in his chest. He knew this place; it was the cottage he and Johnny had hidden themselves away in for their honeymoon after their courthouse wedding. A place of peace away from work, away from the nightmares that were their daily lives, just them enjoying a simple domestic life before they had to get back into the chaos of their careers.
He breathed deep, setting his mug aside as he leaned his head back to rest on Johnny's shoulder as they watched the sheep in the distance graze. He could spend an eternity right here without having to worry about a thing while wrapped up in Johnny's arms, surrounded by the warmth of the other man, the love radiating off him. His lips moved before he could think, "I love you," he whispered, his voice clear once more, no longer trapped behind a mental block holding his words hostage.
"I know," Johnny smiled, setting his mug aside so he could wrap his arms around Simon's waist and hug him closer to his chest, pressing a gentle kiss to his neck before resting his chin on his shoulder, "I love you too."