Handle With Care

Rough Nights

Elric POV

The night Ryder had his nightmare about me was particularly rough. He was panicked, and was crying in a way that vaguely reminded me of the memories he had transferred to me. The memories of his trauma. And I just wanted to hold him forever and never let him go. I wanted to let him know I wasn't going to leave him anytime soon.

He was drained that day, given that he hadn't gotten any sleep. And, the next day after that, I woke up without him beside me. I almost began to panic, when the space next to me was unoccupied and devoid of his wolfish heat. Luckily, though, as I had flung myself out of bed, I caught sight of a note on his nightstand.

It's okay, I'm just downstairs. It had said.

I wondered how long that note had been there, given that Ryder would usually wake up around the same time as me, or later. Or, if he woke up earlier, he'd simply stay in bed until I arose.

Concerned, I headed downstairs. I found him in the living room, curled into the corner of one of the couches with his head resting on the armrest, Knox asleep in his lap, and his very red and very tired-looking eyes gazing at the television.

"Sweetheart?" I had called. His gaze had snapped to mine, startled, and a guilty fear swirled inside them upon seeing me.

I tried to ask him what was wrong, cuddling up next to him on the couch. He had avoided my gaze, his muscles tense. He mumbled that he had had another nightmare, but his unsteady heartbeat and wavering voice told me that that was a lie.

I tried again. He then answered that he couldn't sleep, but I still caught a hint of wavering in his voice, so I pried a little more, albeit staying gentle, as that was always best for him. He changed 'couldn't' to 'wouldn't'. His posture and tone of voice told me he felt ashamed.

I tried to tell him that refusing to sleep wasn't healthy for him, but I understood that he hated and feared his nightmares. He told me that sometimes he just couldn't stand them, and they scared him so terribly. I responded by telling him I understood, but he still needed his sleep. His small meals and stressed state wasn't doing him any good already, and sleep deprivation wasn't going to help in the slightest.

Ryder started to get upset, sobbing quietly about how he was just so sick of his nightmares, and that his health was messed up enough as it was. He had really started to worry me, because he had then, slightly, started revealing to me how much he didn't truly seem to care about himself.

I tried not to show how that affected me, instead focusing on calming him down softly, and telling him that he was beautiful, and sweet, and adorable. But he only cried harder.

"Stop saying that. I'm not any of those things..." he had replied, wiping furiously at his eyes, as if he was frustrated with himself. I didn't like the sound of that, so I tried to tell him otherwise. Ryder only got even more upset.

Our discussion, much to my regret, had turned somewhat heated and serious, although I tried desperately to stay calm, collected, and gentle. I didn't want to call it an argument, but it had been the first time either of us had raised our voices at each other, even though it wasn't by much. One could possibly say it was just a regular talk, just very serious.

Though, once Ryder had realized we were practically arguing, he cried even harder, breaking down in the middle of the living room floor, for he had gotten up and paced a bit during our heated conversation.

My love's mind truly was a damaged and vulnerable place.

I dropped the discussion about his health and self-esteem, immediately reverting to comforting him to the best of my ability. As he curled into himself, bent down on his knees on the floor, he repeated over and over that he was so sorry, that he felt so bad for being so difficult, even though he wasn't difficult at all.