The Midnight Train

10:

Nolan leaned against the porch railing, his eyes flicking back to Lydia, who had fallen silent in the chair beside him. At first, he had welcomed the quiet—finally a moment to collect his thoughts, to process everything that had just happened. But as the minutes ticked by and Lydia remained unresponsive, a sigh escaped his lips.

*Really?* Of all the times for her to fall asleep, it had to be now.

He wasn’t sure what to do with her. It wasn’t that he was particularly cruel, but dealing with Lydia always seemed to be more than he’d bargained for. She was a puzzle he couldn’t solve, full of erratic emotions, strange flashbacks, and behaviours he couldn’t predict. Yet, despite all that, she intrigued him in a way he wished she didn’t. He’d found himself, more often than not, caught up in whatever chaos surrounded her, like a moth drawn to a flame.

Nolan leaned down, brushing a lock of hair from her forehead, his fingers grazing her skin lightly. She didn’t stir. Her breathing was deep, slow. She was completely out. He sighed again, louder this time, straightening up and rolling his neck, trying to ease the tension from his shoulders. It had been a long day. Too long. But leaving her out here, vulnerable in her sleep, didn’t feel right.

For a moment, he considered just letting her sleep on the chair, maybe covering her with a blanket and leaving her to rest in the cool night air. But there was something about the fragility in her expression, something about the way she’d collapsed earlier, that wouldn’t let him walk away. She needed more than just space. She needed safety.

Reluctantly, Nolan slipped his arms beneath her, lifting her from the chair. She was lighter than he expected, her body limp and warm in his hold. He cradled her against his chest, careful not to wake her as he walked back inside the house. Her head lolled slightly, resting against his shoulder, and for a brief moment, he hesitated, caught off guard by how small and delicate she seemed.

*How did I end up here, carrying her like this?* Nolan shook his head, dismissing the thought. It wasn’t about sentimentality. Lydia was just another problem in a long line of problems he didn’t need, and yet… here he was, carrying her like he was somehow responsible for her.

As he pushed open the door to her room with his foot, Nolan’s steps slowed. The quiet hum of the house surrounded him, a contrast to the storm of thoughts swirling in his mind. He laid her down on the bed carefully, the soft mattress sinking under her weight. She shifted slightly, her brow furrowing as if she were waking, but her eyes remained closed.

Just as he was about to pull his arms away and retreat to the doorway, he felt a tug on his wrist. Lydia’s fingers, small but firm, had latched onto him, her grip tight and desperate. Nolan froze, staring at her hand, gripping him like a lifeline. Her lips moved slightly, her voice a faint murmur, barely audible in the stillness of the room.

“Stay,” she whispered, her voice fragile, almost broken. “They’re coming… after me.”

A chill crept down Nolan’s spine. She was still caught in her dream, trapped in whatever nightmare had haunted her earlier. He could see it in the way her expression twisted in fear, in the way her fingers refused to let go.

He sighed softly, lowering himself back down on the bed beside her, sitting there with his arm still in her grasp. “No one’s coming,” he muttered quietly, knowing she wouldn’t hear him, or maybe she would—maybe somewhere, in the fog of her subconscious, his words would reach her. “You’re safe. You’re safe with me.”

Her grip on his wrist slackened slightly, but she didn’t let go. Nolan glanced down at her face, her brow still creased with worry even in her sleep. He couldn’t deny the pull he felt—the inexplicable need to protect her from whatever demons were haunting her. She was so fragile in moments like these, so vulnerable, that it stirred something deep inside him, something unfamiliar.

But then, just as quickly as the feeling came, he pushed it down, burying it beneath the layers of frustration and exhaustion that had built up throughout the day. He wasn’t her saviour. He wasn’t equipped to deal with the wreckage of her past or the confusion that seemed to shroud her every thought. Yet, here he was, sitting beside her, watching over her like it was his responsibility.

Nolan sighed, slowly lowering himself fully onto the bed beside her, careful to leave enough space between them. He didn’t want to crowd her, didn’t want her to wake up and find him lying too close. The last thing he needed was another confrontation, another round of questions that he didn’t have answers to. But she seemed so fragile, so afraid, that leaving her alone didn’t feel right either.

As he settled into the bed, the soft fabric of the comforter brushing against his arm, Lydia stirred again. Her hand moved, not away from him but closer, as if instinctively seeking his presence, even in her sleep. Her fingers brushed against his arm, a light touch that sent a ripple of unease through him.

“Stay with me…” she mumbled again, her voice softer this time, but no less pleading. “Please… don’t let them get me.”

Nolan’s chest tightened. He knew she wasn’t talking to him, not really. She was speaking to the shadows in her mind, to the ghosts of whatever haunted her dreams. But the way she said it, the desperation in her voice, made him feel like he was the only one standing between her and the things she feared. And that terrified him more than he wanted to admit.

He glanced at her again, her face still twisted in a soft frown, her lips parted slightly as she breathed in slow, uneven rhythms. For a moment, he wanted to reach out, to smooth the worry from her brow, to tell her she didn’t have to be afraid. But he didn’t. Instead, he stayed where he was, lying beside her in the dark, the silence stretching between them.

“You’re safe,” he murmured again, knowing she couldn’t hear him but saying it anyway. “No one’s coming for you, Lydia. Not tonight.”

He kept his distance, his body angled away from hers, careful not to touch her. The last thing he wanted was for her to wake up and find him beside her, too close for comfort. But for some reason, as he lay there, listening to her quiet breathing, he couldn’t bring himself to leave.

And so, he stayed, staring up at the ceiling as the minutes ticked by, the weight of her presence heavy beside him. Whatever came next—whether it was more of her questions, more of her problems, more of the chaos that seemed to follow her wherever she went—he would deal with it. Just not tonight.

Tonight, he would let her sleep, let her have this moment of peace, even if it was fleeting. Because in her sleep, Lydia wasn’t the enigma she was during the day. In her sleep, she was just a girl, lost in her own mind, looking for someone to keep her safe. And for reasons Nolan couldn’t quite explain, he was willing to be that person.

At least for now.