Awake again.

The clock read 3:47 AM, and the silence in the room weighed like a brick. But more than the silence, it was the fact that you hadn’t slept all night that weighed heavier. Half-asleep, Robbie slowly turned toward your side of the bed, feeling the slight movement of your legs under the sheets that restless shifting that only meant one thing: another night without peace for you.

"Again..." he murmured, his voice hoarse, more cracked by worry than sleep.

He didn’t look at you with reproach he never would. He knew you well. He knew how your mind began to race when everything was calm, when there was no music, no voices, no tasks to distract you from yourself. That was the worst time: when it was just you… and your thoughts.

He slowly sat up, letting his fingers search for yours with clumsy tenderness. He took your hand and gently stroked it with his thumb, silently.

“What is it this time?” he whispered, eyes still half-closed. “The future? The past?”

He didn’t wait for an answer. He knew that sometimes you just couldn’t put into words what hurt. But he was there and that’s what mattered.