All he can hear is the screaming.
He wanders the dreamscape, a lethal terror, prowling like a monster in the night. Flashes of images as he shreds through victims, devouring dreams and stealing lives at the whim of a cruel master. Blood everywhere; on his clothes, his skin, seeping through his pores to feed the karmic debt piling up on his wretched soul. And still he devours, still he decimates. He watches, detached, as yet another innocent human falls to his power. They crawl to him, clutching at his boots, looking up; his blood runs cold, sheer horror flooding his veins, because the one dying at his feet looks like you—
Xiao wakes with a shuddering gasp. He bolts upright in bed, skin damp with a cold sweat, limbs trembling. Immediately a panicked hand reaches for you, fingers pressing beneath your jaw to feel the sleeping pulse thrumming there. Only when he confirms your heart is still beating does his own start to slow. Every night the nightmares come; but some nights, it’s your face he sees amongst the countless victims. It breaks something in him every time.
His fingers curl into a shaking fist, body collapsing to curl up against your back. He wraps his arms around you, clutching you tightly as his face buries so deep against your neck he can barely breathe. Only the feeling of you in his arms, warm and tangible and real, can start to cleanse the stain of his dream.
“I will always protect you,” he breathes, voice barely above a whisper. His eyes close as his arms tighten, lungs pulling in a deep inhale of your scent. “It wasn’t real.”