Cured [ManxMan]

Chapter Twenty-Four

I woke feeling comfortably warm but a bit disoriented, and it took me a few moments to realize why. After my late-night incident, I hadn't had a single dream for the first time in weeks. Even my occasional naps usually brought snippets of my past back to me, but this time nothing.

As weird as it felt to not dream, the fact that it was weird now was strange as well. Not so long ago, the idea of sleeping at all had been bizarre as I hadn't done it in four years, and the first few dreams had been strange as well. Now, I sleep a few hours without dreaming and it freaks me out?

My eyes fluttered open to take in the ceiling, now lit by the sun instead of the dim lamp next to me. I turned my head to my right to find Mattie sprawled out on top of the covers asleep, snoring softly, with one hand resting on my chest. I could imagine him last night watching me sleep, his hand on my chest so he could feel it rising and falling with my steady breaths, maybe even feel my heartbeat, though I doubted he could through my shirt and the comforter.

Still, the mental imagine made my chest squeeze, and between that and the fact that I hardly ever saw him sleep, the last thing I wanted to do was wake him. Besides, I felt much better than I had the night before, no longer swelteringly hot under the covers or so delirious I couldn't even remember when it was. There was no reason to disturb him, at least not yet.

So I settled in to watch him sleep, a small smile pulling at the corners of my mouth. I couldn't be sure how long we stayed like that—long enough for the light to shift as the sun moved across the sky, but not long enough for it to grow dark again, so a couple of hours at most—before Mattie's face scrunched up.

I thought he might have finally been waking, but remained still in the hopes he might go back to sleep. That is, until he whimpered, a tiny, heartbreaking sound that prompted me to immediately go to pull the man into my arms, only to get caught in the blankets.

Before I could free myself, Mattie started muttering in his sleep, "No, wait, no, no, don't leave me, please don't leave me again," which did nothing to calm me as I finally freed myself from the blanket so I could pull Mattie against my chest.

He woke immediately, but seemed disoriented, gasping, his panicked eyes meeting mine before he pulled me closer, burying his face somewhere near my collarbone.

"It's okay," I said, my voice a little huskier than usual. "I'm here. I'm not going... anywhere." This did little to calm him, as he only tightened his arms around me as if to somehow press himself even closer. I thought the wetness against my skin might have been his tears, but chose not to mention it, instead stroking my hands down Mattie's back and quietly shushing him, assuring him with words and caresses that I was fine and not going anywhere.

It was several minutes before he had calmed enough to push me back, still sniffling and turning his face away so I only caught a glimpse of how much of a mess it was before he could wipe it off and compose himself.

When he turned his attention back to me, it was only to fuss over me, pressing his fingers to my face to check my fever, his eyes searching mine to judge my lucidity.

"I'm fine," I assured him. "I feel much better this morning."

He continued to study me for a few more moments before declaring, "You should still stay in bed today. I'll go get you something to eat. Yell if you need anything."

Before I had the chance to protest—I really wasn't hungry, and I'd rather just lay here with him—he was gone, and for the next few minutes I could hear him clanking around in the kitchen.

When he returned, he carried a bowl which, when he placed it on the bedside table, I found to be filled with only broth, making me wrinkle my nose. I'd had more than enough of plain broth, and it no longer seemed as exciting as it had the first time Kiara had brought it for me.