A trance. That's what he found you in on the late nights he paid a visit to your bedroom to check up on you. He hated seeing you in couch distress, but he knew how hard it must've been to control the traumatic terrors that haunted your thoughts with dark clouds of despair.

He'd found you once more, trembling in your seat as you begged for it to stop mindlessly. He now cradled you in his arms, whispering words of comfort. "Breathe." He murmured, whisping his fingers through your hair.