He finds himself woken up in the middle of most nights. It's more often when he's alone, but even when he's not, it occurs.
Zayne has grown accustomed to his nightmares by now, really. All he needs is a couple of minutes to take a few deep breaths. To relax his muscles, to let his fists unclench.
What he is not accustomed to is the sudden care and the quiet, yet reassuring presence by his side. His stubborn, stoic side is somewhat reluctant to accept it, to let himself be seen even in such a state. He must be strong, calm and collected. Like he always is.
But not so deep inside, he's grateful. Deeply grateful.













