I'll wait for you (Dayasco)

The man

The morning light filtered through the blinds, casting a warm glow on Daya's sleeping face. He was curled up against me, his chest rising and falling rhythmically. I watched him for a moment, my heart swelling with affection. His sleep was deep and peaceful, a stark contrast to my own. I'd been jolted awake several times during the night, each time by the same recurring nightmare. The fear of it still lingered, a cold knot in my stomach.

I'd dreamt of Irene, my sister. She was standing in a crowded room, her face pale and drawn. Her eyes met mine, filled with a mix of fear and sorrow. Then, the room started to spin, the noise becoming a cacophony of screams. I desperately searched for Daya, but he was nowhere to be found either. Panic squeezed my throat, a bone-chilling fear of losing him, of losing her, of being alone in that terrifying world.

Every time I'd woken up, he was still there. His steady breathing a comfort, his presence a grounding force against the terror of the dream. I'd snuggle closer, burying my face in his broad chest, finding peace in the familiar rhythm of his heartbeat.

A gentle hand shook my shoulder, rousing me from my thoughts. "Bosco? It's okay, what's wrong? I'm here," Daya murmured, his voice husky with sleep.

I was still trembling, my breaths coming in ragged gasps. "Another bad dream," I whispered, my voice hoarse.

"What was it about?" he asked, his brow furrowed with concern.

I hesitated, not wanting to burden him with my anxieties. But the familiar warmth of his hand on my back urged me to open up.

"It was Irene," I said, my voice cracking. "She was hurt, and then you... you weren't there." Tears pricked my eyes, the memory of that suffocating fear washing over me again.

Daya's hand tightened on my back, his thumb stroking soothing circles. "It was just a dream, baby," he said, his voice soft and reassuring. "You're safe. I'm here."

His words were a comfort to me. I curled up against him, seeking the comfort of his strong arms. "I'm sorry," I murmured, feeling a wave of shame. "I know it's silly, just a dream."

"It's not silly," he said, his voice filled with an unwavering tenderness. "These nightmares are real for you, and I'm here to help you through them."

A wave of relief washed over me. I was so incredibly lucky to have him in my life. His love, his unwavering support, it was everything to me.

"Are you hungry?" Daya asked, his voice a gentle nudge back to reality.

I nodded, my stomach growling in agreement. I wanted nothing more than to spend the morning in his arms, letting his warmth chase away the lingering shadows of my nightmare.

He scooped me up, cradling me in his arms like a precious baby. I giggled, feeling a surge of happiness as he carried me to the kitchen. He set me down on the counter, and I nestled myself against his side as he poured two bowls of cereal.

The kitchen was a small space, but it felt cozy and intimate, a place we'd already made so many memories. We sat on the couch, our legs tangled together, while we ate. I was content to simply be, to exist in this moment of peaceful normalcy.

After breakfast, Daya's hands found my hair, his fingers gently pulling and tugging as he practiced the braid he'd learned the day before. The gentle pressure of his touch was another grounding force, anchoring me to the present.

I tried to keep my face neutral, despite the slight discomfort of the awkward, uneven braids. I admired his enthusiasm for learning, for wanting to care for me in this small, intimate way.

With a satisfied sigh, Daya finally finished the braid, a significant improvement from his previous attempt. He leaned back on the couch, a proud smile gracing his lips. "There, all done," he said, grinning at me.