MPHFPC one-shots

Enorace

A/N: feels great to be #1 in the fugh tag☺️🐝🍃

One-shot requested by @adoringchristine

Horace has a nightmare, and Enoch comforts him. I guess you could say this was set before the start of the books, and Horace had a nightmare about the events.

While I, myself, do not ship enorace, I know a lot of people in the fandom do so here you go☺️

BOOKVERSE

Like every other day in Miss Peregrine's loop for the past... who knows how many decades, the day Enoch has just had has been perfectly ordinary. Well, not perfect, living the same day on repeat gets tiresome after the first few resets, but his point still stands.

He woke up at eight o'clock that morning when Miss P came to get him for breakfast, had said breakfast, then spent the majority of the day alternating between creating armies in the garden and his bedroom.

In the end, he spent the rest of the day in the garden where Horace eventually joined him with a book and his monocle. Enoch didn't engage in much conversation with him, too awkward around the other boy to say more than a few sentences, but Horace didn't seem to mind either way as he was so enraptured with his book (not that he hasn't already read it a hundred times).

Eventually, after an hour or so, the duo, Claire and Olive were drawn back inside by the setting sun. Enoch wasn't too fussed by watching the reset that night and so he went straight to his room while the others went back outside to join Miss P in watching the reset.

It had been some hours since then. It was dark outside and Enoch's eyes were screaming for reprieve, for him to just close them and sleep, but he couldn't. Enoch was a night owl, that much was true, preferring most nights to stay up and bring his clay figures to life, but even he knew when to give up and sleep.

This night, however, he felt sick. There was something wrong, but he didn't know what. It was keeping him from his well-deserved rest.

A frown marred his face, making a crease appear between his eyebrows and crow's feet frame the corner of his eyes. He rested his head on his arm behind his head and sighed, watching his toes scrunch up where he had his feet placed at the bottom of his bed.

With his thumb and forefinger, he rubbed his exhausted eyes.

It was only when he was beginning to ignore the feeling of anxiety niggling at the base of his skull and the pit of his stomach that the wrong feeling found its cause.

A haunting scream cut through the air of the giant house, making its way soundly to Enoch's ears. Enoch startled, feeling as if his soul had been torn from his body as the scream had him scrambling up from his bed.

As he scrambled up to make his way to the door, he did a cartoonish run before finally finding solid purchase and throwing the door to his room open.

The noise, he belatedly realised, was coming form Horace's room. In his tired mind, it took him longer than he'd like to connect the dots and realise that Horace was having another nightmare. The occurrence was a familiar one in the household. It wasn't always Horace having nightmares. Emma had them frequently, too, with the childhood she'd had before Miss P.

All of the children under the Bird's care had nightmares, their trauma so strong and apparent. Enoch dreaded to think what they would be like if it weren't for her.

The only difference with Horace was that his dreams weren't always of the past. His peculiarity meant that he could see the future and sometimes, it wasn't pretty.  The way the boy was screaming now, Enoch hoped he was just having a regular nightmare.

With haste, Enoch burst through the door to Horace's room. He didn't waste a second in throwing himself towards the bed where Horace was tangled in the sheets. Sweat and tears mingled on his face and soaked the collar of his expensive pyjamas.

Enoch's heart raced inside the confines of his chest, he almost wished he were one of his homunculi, unable to feel true emotion and the terror of his racing heart.

"Horace," Enoch began quickly. He took one of Horace's hands in his own clammy ones and brought it securely to his chest. "It's just a dream. Come on, you're okay, I promise. Nothing can hurt you while I'm here."

While Horace didn't stop his weak whimpering or wake up, he did calm down marginally so Enoch counted it as progress and continued.

"Come on, Horace, you're okay," Enoch murmured,  brushing damp hair from Horace's forehead, "you're okay, I promise. Come on."

With both of his hands holding Horace's again, Enoch continued to mutter reassurances to Horace for another minute until finally, the latter's eyes fluttered open. Still dazed and sleep-addled, Horace's eyes flickered over to Enoch, knelt beside the bed.

"Enoch..." Horace sighed heavily, exhausted, "the Bird... cage..."

"Sh, you're okay," Enoch shook his head though a spike of worry had his heart skipping a beat, "it was just a nightmare."

Horace nodded as he sat up, "sorry."

"Don't apologise," Enoch frowned, "you have nothing to apologise for. Don't ever apologise."

Horace nodded once more, but Enoch could still see the guilt written all over his face as plain as day. Standing up, Enoch moved to join Horace on the bed.

"Did I wake you up?" Horace asked.

"No, couldn't sleep," Enoch admitted.

He looked down at his lap and realised he was still clinging to Horace's hands. He almost pulled away with embarrassment, but then he decided to keep hold. Horace hadn't let go either, so...

"Do you want to sleep here?" Horace asked.

Enoch looked at Horace's earnest expression and couldn't tell whether the offer was for his own sake or for Enoch's.

"Sure," he agreed anyway.