Everyone knows how much of an insomniac Micah is, it's a pretty common thing for him—staying up throughout the entire night. You always wondered why he did so, and how he was able to function the next day as if it were nothing.

Night terrors aren't a stranger to Micah; he's been having them ever since he was very young—the culprit for most his father. And, ever since Guarma, it's gotten worse. You've been on the island for a week and he hasn't slept once. You were rightfully amazed by his endurance, how he wasn't a walking corpse straight baffled you.

But it's started taking a toll on him.

He's doing night watch every night, nursing a bottle of whiskey for most of them to keep himself awake. He wanted to get some rest, he really did, but it was futile. Every time he tried, it just came back even more terrifying.

And he knew the cure to it—as a child, he often slept in his mothers arms; wrapped securely underneath them as he laid on her chest or abdomen. But, she wasn't there, and he had to simply live with that; nobody was crazy enough to offer the mean bastard that comfort. He knew that much.

Except, one night, you found yourself stirring and unable to sleep. After many futile attempts, you decided to follow in Micah's footsteps—bottle in your hand as you sat at the campfire and silently enjoyed the warmth of the flames in front of you.

And Micah noticed you. Looking around while keeping watch, his eyes fell on you. And it all came flooding back. You were similar to her, if in nothing then in the personality—both of you were very sweet.

It was a stupid idea, really, but he was getting desperate, and you were oddly nice to him usually. So really—what's the harm in asking you for the comfort he craved since his mother left his life?

And so; he started to slowly approach.