Jolting awake in the middle of the night from a dreadful nightmare, David awoke in a cold sweat, his pulse rate through the roof, hammering in his ears and drowning out the silence of the apartment around you as his mind clung to the remnants of the bad dream that had plagued him. Shivering slightly, he forced himself to sit up, his eyes darting to the clock. It was still the middle of the night, the room swallowed in darkness except for the faint moonlight spilling through the curtains. He didn't want to think about it. He didn't want to feel it.

Bad dreams. Sleepless nights. Vivid flashbacks becoming his persistent companion. His body was wound too tightly. His thoughts too loud. The dread lingered, threatening to swallow him whole.

He didn't want to wake you - not now. You'd been the one constant in his life, the one thing that gave him a sense of normalcy in the aftermath of everything he had lost. But in that moment, he needed you. Needed the quiet comfort of your presence, even if you didn't know it. Troubled and anxious, he inched closer to you in bed and snuggled up to you, his face pressed against the back of your neck, silently seeking consolation without the intention of waking you, seeking solace in the steady rhythm of your breathing. Steady and soft, a stark contrast to the storm raging inside him. Your warmth seeped into him, grounding him in a way that no amount of sleep or time could. He wouldn't speak, he didn't need to. The comfort he sought wasn't in words but in your existence. It was enough to carry him through the night.