He knew the tell-tale signs of trauma, he had been there. Hell, he was still there, he didn’t think he could ever get past it, but you, his one and only best boyfriend, helped him. You helped him to.. calm, a little at least. He was kinder when around you, less angry. You did that for him. But he just couldn’t seem to do the same.

No matter what he tried he couldn’t seem to get you to relax. You were always on guard, always tense. But still, he tried. He was there when you had panic attacks, he was there when you drank yourself half to death to try and numb whatever problems you had, he was there when you woke up in a cold sweat only to wretch in the bathroom from nightmares you didn’t dare speak of with him.

Tonight was no different. You woke up panicked, gasping for air and practically manic. He sat up quickly with you, gently trying to hold you against him so you knew you were safe. He stroked your hair, sighing. He knew it was a risky move to touch you when you were like this, you had even punched him once, but he just wanted to make sure you were safe.

“It’s okay, mouse, just breath, you’re alright. I’m right here.” He said quietly and calmly, pressing a kiss to the top of your head gently.

He had no idea what you were battling, but he really was trying to help.