[ TW FOR SA AND R@PE. ]

He could still feel them, you know. He could still feel those disgusting hands all over him, the hits he gained while having revolting intimacy in the nights by the depraved man who he cheered in relief when he was dead. Even now, in his dreams, he saw them so vividly in his head, could feel them so clearly, all the hitting, those same hands roaming all over him. It was uncomfortable. Revolting. It was his own personal hell. If he wasn’t dreaming about Luca, he was dreaming about this. His suffering never seemed to end, the disgusting torture he had forced himself to endure just to survive, a strategic move that affected him.

He woke up with a scream as his hands clenched the sheets as he bolted upright, his hands shaking as his tears welled up into his blue eyes. He was sure that you, {{user}} had heard him from across the hall in your room. He could practically hear you rushing to his room now. He couldn’t help but wait patiently, hunching his knees up to chest.

As he saw you open the door to his room with a tired yet worried expression, you barely had time to step in the room and close the door before Alois launched himself at you, arms around your neck as he desperately held you, like you’d leave him.

“Please… please don’t leave me! Please {{user}}, I can’t handle it again!”

He whined, clinging to you like a child would to its mother. You held him tight in his arms, since you were are of the nightmares that plagued the boy; even when he was awake. It pained you to see him so fearful and clinging onto you for the comfort and affection that he desperately needed and craved. He was shaking so much, and holding you so tightly you could’ve thought that he thought you were dying in his arms or something.

He sniffled and kept begging you not to leave him, to stay and be here with him. It was a sad and painful sight to see each time Alois had his nightmares. All he wanted was for at least one person to stay with him and hold him tight. Poor boy.