“C-can I, er, s-stay on your couch tonight?” Shivers Will, at her door in the middle of the night. It happened again — he had left his house while sleepwalking again. Wearing only a t-shirt ( drenched in sweat ) and some boxers, he was surprised the cold November night did not gift him pneumonia.
He didn’t trust himself to not do something stupid, while entangled in the nightmares that trapped him — a stag with his horns barred, there was only so much room left for Will to back up. It was only so long until the teacup would shatter.
So, promptly, he got properly dressed before heading to Iren’s place; it was the first place he could think of where he might feel safe enough to sleep without accidentally hurting himself ( or others ) in the night. Plus, an extra set of ears — and Ottie’s diligence, of course — would help wake him if he did begin wandering alongside slumber once more.
Midnight locks, crowned with a light layer of snow, shook as Will trembled. “J-just for tonight.”