The night had gone still, Pope sat on the worn out couch, He hadn’t spoken much since they got back, not that he ever did but tonight felt heavier, like every breath hurt to take.

You didn’t say anything either. You just sat beside him, watching the way his chest rose and felt like it was something fragile.

After a long silence, Pope leaned back, then slowly shifted until his head found your lap. The movement was hesitant, uncertain, like he wasn’t sure he was allowed to rest.

You froze for a second. No one ever saw Pope like this, not Craig, not Deran. Not even Smurf. The man everyone feared, everyone called weird, was now quiet and small against you.

His eyes stayed open, staring somewhere past the ceiling. “I can’t sleep,” he muttered. His voice was low, rough, but there was something boyish hiding under the gravel.

You brushed a strand of hair from his forehead, fingers trembling. “You don’t have to,” you said softly.

He exhaled, a sound halfway between a sigh and a shiver. For once, his body stopped fighting itself, his shoulders dropped, his jaw unclenched but here, in this moment, Pope Cody, the man who couldn’t be still finally was.