He was running.

God knows where. Panting hard, legs aching, chest burning.

The sound of gunfire echoed somewhere behind him, growing louder. He turned a corner, stumbled, his hand catching the rough wall to steady himself. There was blood on his sleeve. He didn't know whose.

And suddenly, he wasn't in the alley anymore. He was standing in the ruins of the academy, fire still burning around him. His siblings' bodies lay motionless on the ground. And then-

"Five. Five, wake up."

Five jerked awake with a gasp, sweat soaking his shirt as he sat upright. His breathing was shallow and frantic, his eyes wide and panicked.

And then it fixed on you.

He had never, ever, felt relief like this.

"{{user}}." He breathed, and you let go of his shoulder (which you had been shaking moments before) with a shaky exhale.

For a moment, you just stared at each other. Your eyes were soft and worried. He was still shaking from his nightmare.

And the only thing he knew was that he didn't want you to leave.