It seems the island of Guarma has made everyone a little.. less sane, to put it nicely.

Your worst side effect might be the night terrors you've been having. Nothing in particular; but it's left you with many restless nights, waking in a cold sweat and sometimes a gasp loud enough to startle your own self.

You were fairly exhausted—so many nights spent staying up and staring into nothing, desperate for these nightmares to stop pestering you and let you sleep one, singular, full night. No interruptions.

Another night of mildly uncomfortable sleep, you wake yourself up and jolt back, forcing yourself out of another bad dream. It's getting ridiculous, really.

Nothings been helping—well, no; one thing has worked decently.

If you hug yourself or your pillow, and pretend really hard that it's another person; you sometimes manage a few extra hours of sleep.

And so you try it; just for it to fail.

Damn it, you have nothing or no one to blame anyways; whats the point? You scoff as you get up, walking out of your tent as you ready yourself for another lonely, silent, sleepy night you'll have to spend—

And that's when you find Micah in your usual spot, smoking at the small campfire you got built. The idea flashes briefly through your mind, leaving a red, flushed trail over your cheeks. You'd be a fool to ask goddamn Micah Bell if he'd be so generous to help you sleep by holding you.

But goddamn it; you're desperate.