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“Hey, are you awake?”
The simple words were spoken softly, breaking the silence that had fallen in the dark room. Draven rolled over in his bed, looking over at who had spoken; James’ face was mostly shadowed, but Draven could make out some of the details. It was hard to miss the now exhausted circles under the researcher’s eyes and the oddly-shaped scars that decorated his cheeks, all framed by his hair which had grown long and more disheveled with time.
“Yeah, hon. What is it?”
James seemed to shrink into himself some, as if he regretted even speaking up. Draven was about to say don’t worry about it, let’s just get some rest , but James finally spoke up once more.
“Tell me something only we know.”
Draven wasn’t sure if tension built up or released first. He knew why James had asked this to begin with - many days and nights had now passed where Draven had opened a door to find his boyfriend on the other side, gripping onto something to steady himself from his own shaking legs, staring off into a point in space that only James could see. When he had first returned from God knows where (apparently, within the confines of an SCP that didn’t truly exist, or perhaps did at one point, or perhaps in a completely new and frustrating way), it was a near constant battle to get through everyday life. It was like a bunch of firsts, except James already knew how to do everything, so instead of having to teach him how to do something, it was helping convince him that no, the universe isn’t going to try and destroy you. James hadn’t talked about what had happened with this entity, and Draven wasn’t one to push. It had been three long months of silence on the topic, a mutual agreement to not discuss it and leave it alone.
Draven would be lying if he said that it didn’t make his heart ache, but he recognized that what James needed most was time - time to heal, time to process, time to readjust. That would come when it was ready, and Draven simply had to wait for that day to come. What James needed now was something to ground him, and Draven would do his best to provide.
“We met about three years ago when we both worked at the same site,” Draven began. “Dad had been teasing me for weeks on end to ask you out. I’d been trying to get the guts to do it, but we never really were at the same place at the same time. We finally bumped into each other one day and I just… blurted it out, right there in front of the other agents!” Draven saw the hints of a chuckle on James’ lips, and he felt a tinge of relief. “I guess it really paid off, didn’t it?”
To tell the truth, it had been a game of chance for them to finally formally meet - it had happened that James had to walk some paperwork to a different department, and Draven was walking from his usual station to the next, and their paths crossed. A few awkward and fumbled greetings later, Draven had finally just blurted out his own feelings to the researcher. To his surprise, they were returned, and the rest was history.
“You told me your coworkers never let you hear the end of it,” James remarked, but Draven could hear the weariness in his boyfriend’s voice.
“They’d never let me hear the end of anything, hon,”
They lay there in silence after that as Draven watched James struggle to stay awake - he wanted to pull him closer to his chest, say everything is fine, it can’t hurt you now, I’m here , and help lull him to sleep, but Draven knew it wouldn’t be that easy; not with the nightmares that often came once James finally did sleep most nights. With how that day and night had gone, it was almost guaranteed to happen. It was like clockwork, almost every night now, keeping the both of them awake.
Draven didn’t mind being kept awake as much as other people might. Given all that the two of them had been through, he had to be more resilient than the average person. With a pang, he remembered the sleepless nights James had to endure after Draven lost his father.
It was only right that he was able to be James’ anchor during these times after all he did for him.
So there they were, huddled underneath the heavy blankets of Draven’s bed, ignoring the impossibly late hour the alarm clock displayed. Words were not needed now, not as James rested his head against Draven’s chest and finally seemed to drift off into an uneasy sleep, Draven only following suit once he was sure that James would not spring to life suddenly once more, fueled by the nightmares that simply would not let go, would never let go of James Talloran, would never rest and would never let him rest .
Yet it seemed that finally, the night was still, and neither would stir until the morning.