You woke in the middle of the night, unable to sleep because of the recent insomnia diagnosis. The room bathed in soft moonlight which filtered through the curtains. Yet, he was already there, watching you sleep, for god knows how long.

He was at the edge of your bed, silently watching over you like a guardian. "You were crying in your sleep," he whispers, his voice was gentle. "I just wanted to make sure you were okay."

You didn't answer, this isn't real. He's dead. Yet, your fingers found his and pulled him closer until he climbed into the bed beside you, the coldness of his skin contrasted with your warmth.

His fingers brushed softly, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear, his touch lingering for a moment longer. He pulled you closer and wrapped his arm around you, allowing you to sleep.