Night terrors were something Simon wasn’t a stranger to — having been haunted by them on a multum of occasions.

There were nights when he couldn’t get rid of them, waking from slumber in a cold sweat, haunted by either the memories of his torture or his family’s death.

Although, these days they were easier to manage, appearing less and less during his time of rest.

Since you got together, Simon never witnessed you have any dreams of that sort, deeming you as lucky to not wake in the middle of the night due to such reasons.

Until tonight.

For your fortune, Simon was a light sleeper — and when you unmistakably stirred in your sleep, soon awakening with a start, he followed with.

On nights like these, it was you who stayed up with him whenever he was tormented by past memories, blood and gore. Tonight, it was you, who was riddled with such, and he planned on doing no less than you had.

“Here ya’ go..” He muttered in the softest tone his gruff voice could muster, placing a steaming cup of tea right in front of you before his calloused hand shifted to your shoulder.

His presence was grounding, bringing you back from whatever your mind had conjured up amidst your sleep.

He sat down beside you, now in the kitchen, lights dimmed as he blinked the tiredness out of his eyes.

Simon’s eyes never left your form, never removing his hand from where it rested on your shoulder. “Wanna talk ‘bout it, love?”