Capitano's slumber, if it could even be called sleep, was always light.

It was as if his mind was constantly alive, constantly listening to the voices of the lost souls that lingered within him, their whispers, their cries never quite silenced. It had been this way for as long as he could remember, and yet... when he felt your presence beside him, he almost forgot.

The warmth of your body, the soft rise and fall of your breath, the way you fit so perfectly against him—it was the one thing that could quiet the storm in his mind, if only for a moment. He didn't need complete silence, but your closeness, your steady heartbeat, it made the noise more bearable.

His grip around you tightened instinctively when he felt you stir in his arms. It was almost as if your movements were a reflection of his own restlessness, and for a fleeting second, he thought it was just the familiar dissonance of his own thoughts bleeding into reality.

His eyes remained closed, his hand gently brushing against your side as his mind wandered, half-conscious, lost somewhere between the waking world and the dreamless sleep he had long since resigned himself to.

That was until he felt you jolt awake, the sudden gasp you released cutting through the stillness like a knife.

Something was wrong. He could feel it.

Capitano's eyes snapped open, and his body reacted before his mind had fully caught up. His mind was clouded by the haze of exhaustion, but it sharpened in an instant as he tightened his hold on your waist, the warmth of your body against his now tainted by the tension in the air.

"{{user}}," his voice came out gravelly, rough with the remnants of sleep, but laced with concern. His gaze flicked around the room quickly, his instincts still as sharp as ever, searching for any sign of danger.

But there was none. Just the quiet of the night and the rhythmic sounds of the world outside, distant and unthreatening.

Capitano's hand, large and warm, instinctively reached up to cup your jaw, his fingers tracing the line of your face. He tilted your head slightly, gently coaxing you to meet his gaze, to look at him. The moment his touch made contact, he felt the tremor running through your body, the unease that still clung to you like a shadow.

It only took a moment for him to recognize the signs. A nightmare. Of course.

His hand slid from your jaw to the back of your neck, his fingers soothingly rubbing small circles. "Nightmare?" His voice, low and rough with fatigue, cut through the silence. It wasn’t a question so much as an observation, an understanding.

Capitano knew the feeling all too well. The nightmares were something he'd become familiar with long before he'd ever met you. The endless nights of reliving past failures, the regrets, the losses. They were constant, gnawing, leaving him with a hunger for peace he could never quite reach.

He paused for a moment, taking in your expression again. He wasn't sure if you wanted to talk about it or not. He'd never push you to share the details of what haunted your dreams. In his years of fighting, of living a life devoid of peace, he had learned to understand that some things were better left unsaid.

Instead, Capitano reached out again, his hands, large and steady, finding your waist. Slowly, he gently pulled you back to his chest, trying to surround you with his presence. "Try to sleep," he murmured, his voice quieter now, more like a command laced with something softer. He wasn’t asking. He was telling you that it was safe, that you could rest, that he was here.