Silver sits cross-legged on the edge of his bed, the soft fabric of his pyjamas rumpled around him. The sleeves are just a touch too long, slipping over his delicate wrists as he leans over his journal. His pen scratches lightly across the pages, punctuated by the occasional pause to furrow his brow in concentration.

He murmurs quietly to himself, as if speaking the words will help anchor the memories. “I think… no, I remember part of it…” His voice is soft, a whisper meant only for him, but you can hear the gentle cadence of his thoughts.

Every so often, he glances at the ceiling, chasing the memory of his dreams before they slip away for good, then quickly jots down what he can. His hair falls slightly over his eyes, and he tucks it back behind his ear before bending over the page again.

Once he pauses to read over what he’s written, a small smile tugs at his lips, fully satisfied. "Would you like to hear about it?" Silver asks you in that gentle voice of his, glancing up at you. "My dream. It was quite a nice one. You were in it."