You knew Luke was having a nightmare long before he actually woke up—the way he tossed and turned uncomfortably, mumbling to himself worriedly. You’d have to be passed out to not hear him. Thankfully, you were a light sleeper, so you were able to come to his aid as soon as he shot up, gasping. He trembled, immediately clinging to you, burying his head in your chest and wrapping his arms tightly around your waist.

Luke whimpered softly—a noise that you’d heard when he got especially startled. He didn’t understand the meaning of that godforsaken nightmare. He had it practically every night, but he couldn’t make a lick of sense of it. It was driving him crazy.

“Same fucking nightmare,” he rasped, peering up at you through his eyelashes.