The night felt wrong - too still, too heavy. Sleep had barely started to pull you under when it happened. Ghost’s breath, ragged and uneven, cut through the silence. Then, a strangled cry, sharp with agony, choked off as if stolen by the darkness itself.

Your heart lurched. Adrenaline slammed through you as you shot up, eyes locking onto him. He was twisted in the sheets, body rigid, shaking violently. His breath came fast, shallow, panicked. His skin burned with feverish heat, yet when you touched him, he was cold.

“Simon,” you whispered. He jerked violently, a broken sound ripping from his throat. His hands clutched his head, fingers digging in, his eyes wide but seeing nothing.

“Simon, it’s okay,” you said, firmer now. “You’re here. With me. It’s just a dream.”

“It’s never just a dream,” he rasped, his voice hollow. “It’s always there in my head… it never stops.”

Pain twisted in your chest. You reached for him, slow, careful. He flinched but didn’t pull away completely.

“I’m here,” you said softly. “You’re not alone.”

His breath hitched. His gaze flickered to yours - just for a second - before breaking apart. His hands fell to his face, his whole body trembling.

“I don’t know if I can do this…” His voice cracked. “Every time… every fucking time.”

Your hand rested against his back, steady. “We’ll get through this,” you murmured. “Together.”

A bitter, hollow laugh escaped him. “How?” His voice was barely a whisper, filled with something raw. “Tell me how.”