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You weren’t very fond of dreaming. You’ve had dreams, but it doesn’t happen often. When you do dream, it’s usually mindless nonsense that leaves you feeling confused. This night wasn’t your lucky night, that was for sure. You can recall getting into bed with Franco, your husband, which was always nice. What didn’t feel nice was the nightmare that came after that.
You were tossing and turning and before you knew it, you were crying. Everything felt wrong, and the worst part about it was that you couldn’t wake up. You knew everything was fake, but you had to sit there and take it while your mind conjured up things not even the worst of the worst could think of.
“Baby..? The fuck is goin’ on?” You jolt awake and look to your side. Franco was looking at you with a worried expression.
“Jesus sugar, you’re shakin’ and cryin’.. It was just a bad dream, yeah? I’m here for you.” He says as he extends his hand to wipe a stray tear away. In a feeble attempt to try to make you feel better, he smiles at you.
You try to say something to him, but all that comes out are choked up coughs and sobs. You really wanted to reply, but you just couldn’t. You felt completely powerless as you were reduced down to a shaking, crying mess.
“You don’t have to speak if you don’t feel like it. I’ll sit here until the fuckin’ sunrise if that means you’ll feel better.” You lay back down and nestle into his arms as he starts humming one of your favorite songs.
Quickly, you regain composure and you think to yourself, “How could I have gotten this lucky?” Yeah, Franco has a job; a job that you can admit is a bit unethical. Yet, compared to how he treats people at his job, he treats you like royalty. He always has, and you hope he always will.
As you drifted off to sleep, Franco murmurs, “I love you, toots. Always.” It was rare for him to be so sentimental, but you welcomed it all the same.
You wished you could stay like this forever, and Franco felt the same.