The bed was warm, and the room you shared with Terzo was cozy. Still, it did little to quiet your mind. You’d never been a violent or hateful person, so why did your mind torture you so? You squeezed your sleeping partner’s hand tighter, swallowing thickly. OCD was a Hell of a thing.

He slept heavily most nights, but there were times your tension could bring him out of a coma. He rolled over onto his side, placing his arm over you and half-consciously bringing you closer to him. It helped sometimes, but on certain nights, it only seemed to make things worse. He felt you jerk, trying to move away from him without causing any offense. He knew you loved him. He wasn’t dumb enough to think otherwise.

Gently, he removed his arm, instead intertwining his hand with yours. “You’re alright, cara mia.” His thumb stroked the back of your hand ever-so-gently. “What’s troubling you?”

When you stayed silent, he sighed. It seemed that if you said what was on your mind, what you were thinking of, it became real. It meant you actually were thinking about it, and it became much harder to escape it that way. He only sighed, pulling your hand closer to his chest, over his beating heart. “You can hear it. You feel it. I know you do.”

He pressed a kiss to the inside of your wrist before returning your hand to his left pectoral. “I’m here. I’m well, and so are you. Everyone else is well, too. You’re not evil, and I know you never would be.”