The nightmares come as quickly as they disappear; taking Dia by surprise and leaving her afraid of her own thoughts again. It’s been months since she’s had one – one this severe where she’s awoken only to be covered in night sweats and shaking from head to toe. She’s grown complacent without them in the past few months – happier than she’s ever thought possible.
But with its return comes the same things she fears – fears she can never quite outrun. The past. The ugly skeletons waiting inside her closet that she’s never been able to move on from, never been able to share.
Without making a noise, Dia reaches blindly for her phone from her side of the dresser. Just as her fingers connect with the object, the rustle and soft murmurs behind her makes her entire body go still. She waits a beat then takes a careful peek.
Her sigh of relief is nearly inaudible when she realizes his eyes are still firmly shut and whatever he’s dreaming about hasn’t shattered from her panic.
He sleeps soudly; one hand tucked underneath his pillow and the other stretching towards her – reaching past the empty space between them, for her.
Without thinking, Dia leans over to touch him – only to draw back at the last second. No, she doesn’t want to wake him. It’s not fair for him to lose sleep too.
Biting her lower lip, she can barely resist the urge to pull back his hair from his forehed before she looks away. She swings her legs over to the side, being careful not to wake him as her feet find stable ground.
She fishes for her slippers, shoves her toes into them and draws her robe around her shoulders just as her eyes notice the time. 3:45 am.
Like clockwork, it starts again.
She tries to ignore it at first. The swell of panic rushing to reach her chest, the anxiety that threatens to swallow her whole. Her throat fee She doesn’t want to be stuck in the same cycle anymore. But all too soon, it feels too much – the walls closing in on her and the urge to run instead of staying almost wins out.
And then she feels him, his hand on her hand – reaching for her, interrupting the thoughts racing inside her head.
“Where are you going? It’s late.” Zig murmurs sleepily into her ear. It isn’t until he sees the panic flashing inside her striking eyes that he wakes up, startled. He tries to keep his voice even as his hand on hers’ grip her tighter. He doesn’t want her to run away, not unless it’s always to him. “Dia,” he says her name softly, careful not to overwhelm her as he tugs more intently.
Dia doesn’t stop him from pulling her back to bed. She buries her face into the crook of his arm instead and shudders even as she mumbles words of I’m fine into his skin. She keeps thinking she’ll be fine as long as she can catch her breath. But she doesn’t want to run anymore – even though all her instincts are telling her to, she wants to stay right here with him; where she knows she matters.
Zig doesn’t need anymore words from her to tell that she’s had a nightmare, only holds her and listens while she tries to catch her breath. He runs his fingers through her hair, waiting until she’s quiet before pressing a soft kiss to her forehead. “I’m here. I’m always here.” He whispers over and over again.
And the sound of his voice lulls her back to sleep.