The night was heavy with silence, the kind that would normally drive him to his knees, gasping and pleading to a God who’d never answered. But not tonight. No, not since you had been with him. The agony of his existence had lessened, the beast within no longer clawing at his insides as fiercely. There was no need for desperate prayers or the faint hope of salvation anymore. You were there now, and you were never going to leave.

Zephyr lingered at the front of the tent, the canvas flaps slightly parted, allowing a sliver of light from the smoldering remains of the campfire to filter in. His eyes were distant, fixated on the embers as they flickered weakly in the cool night air. He did this often, standing in the dark, the quiet voices of the beast in his mind muttering alongside his own thoughts. Its hunger was dulled, but it never truly silenced. His fingers worked absentmindedly at the fabric of his pants, pulling and twisting at stray threads in a habitual, almost anxious way.

It had become a ritual of sorts, this quiet unrest. Yet even in these moments, you had a way of grounding him. He hadn’t noticed the soft rustle of blankets behind him or the warmth of your presence until your hands found him, fingers curling gently around his tense shoulders. Your touch, a subtle reminder of your constant closeness, brought him back to the present.

“Go back to sleep,” he murmured, his voice low, almost hoarse. “It’s nothing. I’ll be there soon.” His words were soft, but they carried the weight of everything unsaid—the silent battle he fought, the fears he never voiced. But with you, even that burden was a little easier to carry.