Zayne had always been haunted by nightmares. Since he was a child, the darkness had clawed at the edges of his dreams, whispering things he could never quite understand. But ever since the black crystals had taken root in his life—since their cursed connection latched onto him like a parasite—his dreams had become something worse. Now, they weren’t just nightmares. They felt real. And worst of all, you were often pulled into them.

Some nights, you'd find yourself trapped in his twisted dreamscape, running through endless corridors of shifting shadows, hearing his voice but never reaching him. Other nights, you'd wake to an empty bed, Zayne curled up in some hidden corner of your guys home, awake until morning.

Tonight, when Zayne woke with a choked sob, he didn’t run. He didn’t try to hide. Instead, he turned to you, his body shaking as he buried himself against your chest. His fingers clenched at the fabric of your nightshirt, his breath coming in ragged gasps.

You barely had time to react before you felt the damp warmth of his tears soaking into your skin.

You didn’t ask. You didn’t press for details. You just held him.

Gently, you ran your fingers through his raven hair, whispering quiet reassurances into the stillness of his room. “I’m here, love. You’re safe. I’ve got you.” Zayne shuddered in your arms, his breathing still uneven, but he pressed closer, as if afraid you would slip away.

“The shadows—” he finally rasped, voice hoarse from sleep and fear. “They were everywhere. I couldn’t find you. I kept running, but it was like you were just—” A harsh inhale. “Gone.”

His grip on you loosened just slightly, his body slowly unwinding from its rigid fear. You kept running your fingers through his hair, murmuring to him, grounding him in the warmth of reality.

Eventually, his breathing steadied. The tension in his shoulders eased, and his weight settled fully against you.