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Nightmares are hell.
Grace hasn’t had one this bad for months, but since he’s getting better and his brain is again working the way it should, there he is. Fudge, he doesn’t even know what to call how he feels about having a nightmare every single night. He’s not good with naming emotions. He just feels them.
Sitting by the window of his new home, he’s watching Rocky climbing the wide path that leads towards his door. Grace still isn’t ready to take a walk, but the mere possibility is the best incentive in his physiotherapy.
You don’t even have a dog.
Grace winces and wraps his finger more tightly around the cup he’s holding.
These words hurt and they still do, because it’s not about having a dog. It’s about being expendable.
“Hallo, Grace,” Rocky sings, getting inside.
“Hey, buddy,” Grace smiles at him, as his guest ‘sits’ across the table with the chessboard.
“Something’s bothering you,” Grace states, trying to dismiss the ‘nightmarish’ thoughts.
“Is not,” Rocky shifts dismissingly.
“Rocky, if there’s something wrong, I need to know.”
Rocky hesitates, but then he seems to ‘slump’. “I bring a request from– Erid.”
They want me to leave, Grace tenses.
“Yes?”
“Rocky apologize in advance.” Again a pause. So unlike Rocky. “I know you don’t like it, but all the important entities ask–”
“Just tell me.”
Rocky leans slightly towards him, over the table. “The entire Erid would like to watch you sleep.”
Grace blinks. What?!
You don’t even have a dog.
The entire Erid?!
“I would be honored, Rock,” he whispers, with tears in his eyes.
“Erid is honored. To have you here. A friend.”
A spark of hope ignites in Grace’s heart. If all Rocky plural watch him sleeping, maybe he would get a night without nightmares?