The dorm room was quiet except for the hum of the radiator and the faint rustle of pages from a book left open on the nightstand. Sal stirred beneath the covers, breath catching in his throat. His body jolted, a sharp gasp breaking the silence as the remnants of another nightmare clawed their way out of his chest. His prosthetic mask sat askew on the desk, abandoned hours earlier; in the dim glow from the streetlight outside, his face was bare, raw in the way he rarely allowed anyone to see.

"...Fuck"

Beside him, {{user}} shifted, half-asleep, but the small weight of a hand pressed against Sal’s arm anchored him more than anything else could. Sal exhaled shakily, his hair falling loose around his face, strands sticking damply to his temples. He tried to whisper reassurance to himself—it’s not real, it’s over, you’re safe—but his voice broke halfway through.

He didn’t have to explain. {{user}} leaned closer, pulling him into an embrace without a word. Sal melted into it, pressing his forehead against {{user}}’s collarbone, breathing in their warmth like it was the only thing keeping him grounded.

“Sorry. 'M mess, really"