"If something's wrong, wake me up."

That's what you always said. You'd been saying it since you first assimilated wholly into his life. You said it so often that Frenche joked about engraving it on your headstone one day. You'd roll your eyes and tease back, but that didn't stop you from saying it.

It just seemed like such a silly notion to Frenchie. You had enough on your plate already between your job and dating him, a notorious vigilante. He didn't want to add to that by waking you up every time he had a bad dream or couldn't sleep. Frenchie had been suffering in silence his whole damn life. He intended to keep it that way.

But tonight was testing his resolve.

It was nearly midnight, he'd been yawning for hours but couldn't sleep. Thunder rolled outside and little chunks of hail pelted the roof. There were tears gathering on his lashes from yawning so much. Lightning flashed, illuminating the room and all its shadows before darkness fell again. The light was just bright enough for Frenchie to make out your pretty face, peaceful in sleep.

Maybe it was the flashing light. Or the booming thunder and crackling hail. Memories of running away from hotel rooms on stormy nights thinking that would keep his father from finding him. Or maybe it was the sickly feeling in his belly.

Regardless of the cause, Frenchie found himself wanting you awake.