Being forced to move so many states away from all that he once knew, Nessa was nervous to tackle his new life. Fortunately, it didn't take long for Nessa to meet a plethora of unique individuals who welcomed him into their lives:
The optimist, the k...
When he woke up that morning, he smiled. Not for any particular reason. He was just happy to be alive. To be free. To be loved.
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It still happened most nights. Even when he had good things to wake up to, the nights were not usually so apt to be friendly. Venice would toss and turn, staring blankly at his ceiling and walls until he managed to sleep for short increments at a time. And sometimes, the nightmares came with it.
That particular night was extra unforgiving. He wasn't entirely sure why, other than the possibility of the ghosts inside of him being more restless than usual. He kept waking up in cold sweats, the fading images of his past still haunting the backs of his eyelids. Venice hated the night.
After the fourth time waking only to finding the clock reading no more than four a.m., Venice was starting to get sick of the sweat on his back and troubled breathing whenever he came to. Something ushered for him to sit up in bed, combing back his hair with his fingers as though to soothe himself. He was going to have to shower in the morning.
Venice decided to change out of his sweaty clothes and into something clean, noticing the start of a headache behind his eyes. Then he creeped into the hallway, as silent and unnoticeable as a shadow. He just wanted to sleep a few more hours without seeing Paris' dead face again.
It wasn't the first time that Venice found himself walking down the hallway in the pitch-dark of night, searching for a place to comfort his haunted mind. Fortunately, he knew where to look to find somewhere that sufficed for the time being.
Ilya's door creaked softly for a brief moment, before Venice slipped inside and closed it behind him. He walked to Ilya's bed, lifting the covers up just enough to crawl inside. It was warm, and he could hear the faint sound of Ilya snoring beside him.
It was difficult to explain exactly why he found such peace whenever he slept beside him. He always thought that it was largely a result of the protective energy that Ilya seemed to always exude. With his muscles and pride — it was hard to find a worthy competitor.
And his brotherly love.
Venice was pretty sure that he felt so safe around him simply because Ilya was the big brother that he never had. He looked after and understood him, trusting him with things he couldn't trust another else with. They had a bond that would never break, no matter how much time passed or how far apart they ended up living from each other.
Venice was thinking about those things when Ilya suddenly hitched in a long breath, turning on his side just enough to brush up against Venice's arm.
For a second all was quiet. Then Ilya's groggy voice broke it. "Venice?"
He knew immediately who was laying in his bed, even his half-awake mind deciphering it with ease. "It's me."
Ilya rolled onto his back again, rubbing his eyes to try to help him process the world around him. Sometimes he woke up when Venice laid down, but other times he slept through it entirely. It just depended on the night.
