Sylus who awakens from a nightmare and acts immediately on his instinct to hold you, gripping you close under the sheets with one arm around your waist and one tucking behind your neck. You blearily look up at him, shaken out of your own sleep. βSy?β
He doesnβt respond, only rests his chin atop your head, breathing in the smell of your shampoo, arms locked around you like a vice. You can feel his heart racing as youβre pressed up against his chest, the slight tremble in his hands. βSy,β your voice grows more serious. βWhatβsββ
He silences you by pulling you in even closer, burying his head against your neck. For all the times heβs helped you pick apart your own struggles, heβs not very good with words when it comes to his personal feelings. You sigh, stroking a gentle hand across his bare back. βThat nightmare again? The one where Iβm stabbing you with a big sword?β
He nods, the motion almost imperceptible. His voice comes out like a low hoarse growl. βSounds stupid when you say it like that.β The silent plea for reassurance, something his usual confidence rarely needs, is clear to you.
βNot stupid,β you correct softly, rubbing his back. As your touch soothes him slowly, his tight hold on you gradually relents. He sighs in frustration, leaning back on his pillow and staring up at the ceiling. You shift closer, sitting up on your hand to place a kiss in the center of his broad chest. His body tenses at the sensation, and he looks down at you, red eyes soft and almost murky with emotion. βSee? No sword here,β you mumble, as you lay your head against his chest.
He only pets your hair in response, but youβre satisfied as you hear his breathing slowly steady, his touches becoming lazy and usual, not as if heβs still trying to convince himself youβre really here. He drifts off finally back into sleep, the rise and fall of his chest like a gentle ocean beneath your head.
