She isn’t sure which ones are worse.
The nights where he’s fighting his unseen ghosts, moaning and crying in pain or fear until she is able to shake him awake.
The nights he shouts himself awake and has to take several minutes to remember where he is before she can even touch him.
Or the quiet nights, where she wakes up to find him sitting on the edge of the bed, bent over and looking utterly hopeless and alone.
Those are probably the worst, she decides, the nights when words just don’t seem to be enough, and all she can do is hold him and let him know the only way she can think of that he isn’t alone.
I’m here, she says with her body pressing against his, giving whatever comfort she can get him to take. I’m here.
(There's a few things off in this picture, mostly that Temple is a bit smaller than Arvallon and here she looks bigger, but I didn't realize it until I was finished with it, and it's not bothering me enough to go back and fix. >.>)