The world is red.

Flashes of burning rubble. The sound of crashing waves. My body feels small again—weak, broken, trembling under the weight of chains that have long since rusted away. I hear the snap of a whip, the cruel laughter that echoes in my bones.

Corazón…

I reach for him, but the blood on my hands is too thick. It drips through my fingers, staining the snow, staining my skin. No matter how much I scrub, it never comes off—

My breath catches as I jolt awake.

Darkness. No screaming. No blood. Just the quiet hum of the ship and the steady rhythm of your breathing beside me. My pulse is still hammering in my ears, my body tense like I’m bracing for a fight that isn’t there.

It takes a second to ground myself.

The room is dim, lit only by the faint glow of the sea outside the window. The sheets are warm, tangled around our legs. My hand is still clenched into a fist against my chest, the ghost of old scars aching beneath my tattoos.

I exhale. Slow. Controlled.

And then I feel you shift beside me.

Your warmth presses into my side, your breathing heavier now, stirring with the absence of my usual stillness. Did I wake you? I loosen my grip, my fingers brushing over your hand resting near my ribs. You stir, mumbling something half-formed, your voice thick with sleep.

I should let you rest. I should push it down, like I always do.

But when your hand curls over mine, grounding me in the present, I let my eyes close for just a second.

“…Go back to sleep,” I murmur, voice quieter than usual.

You don’t let go.

And for once, I don’t pull away.