In the end, my breathing was heavy as he gently kissed my forehead. “Shhh, you did so well for me,” he cooed, and I hummed; my mind had gone entirely numb.
“But Wyn…your sheets…” I attempted to catch my breath, “I’ve never done that before. I—”
“It’s a good thing. I don’t care what my sheets look like if you’re having fun.” He shrugged, playing with my hair. “That doesn’t matter to me.”
“I’m thirsty.” I sighed, flipping over onto his pillow, closing my eyes. “I want a milkshake.”
He chuckled at that. “I’d be surprised if you weren’t, you’ve lost a lot of fluids.”
“Shut up.” I grumbled. “Make it chocolate.”
“Your wish is my command,” he agreed before leaving for the bathroom and coming back with a warm towel and wiping down my legs. He changed the sheets and threw them in the washing machine too, replacing them.
I didn’t know that life could feel this good, especially for me.
34
Nightmares
The next morning
Muffled sounds drifted through the quiet apartment, low and broken. I stirred from my sleep, realizing that I’d fallen asleep on the couch watching ballet performances ofThe Rite of Spring. I needed to be able to emulate the essence of the performance—that rawness was unfortunately the one thing I couldn’t fake.
I made my way to the fridge to grab a glass of water and that was when I saw a cutout from the Julliard newsletter pasted on the fridge. It read:
YEO LEGACY: YESOH YEO TO PLAY THE CHOSEN ONE IN CLASSIC BALLET THE RIGHT OF SPRING.
In tiny writing it said “our Yesoh.” My brother and boyfriend could be so sweet when they wanted to be; it was wonderful to know that I had them right beside me. A lump rose in my throat—to be loved is indeed to be known, to be seen.
Just then I heard it.
At first, I thought I had imagined it, the remnants of a dream. But then I heard it again—I choked gasp, almost inaudible, but unmistakably pained. My heart clenched. I got up and made my way down the hall, a chill down my spine towards Wynter’s bedroom. His door was open, and there was only a faint light from the lamp on his bedside, spilling out into the dark hallway. I hesitated for a second before stepping inside.
Wynter was tangled in his sheets, his body tossing and turning his hair stuck to his forehead with perspiration.
“Wynter,” I whispered, taking a step closer.
“Don’t,” a voice interrupted from behind me. I turned around and saw Cahya in a nightgown with sleepy eyes standing in the doorway.
“What do you mean, don’t?” I puzzled.
“He’s dreaming,” he said simply, “it happens sometimes, he’ll wake up on his own.”
I frowned, glancing back at my boyfriend. “But he looks like he’s in pain…”
“He is,” Cahya responded matter-of-factly. “ It’s a nightmare, and this isn’t the first time. It’s better to let him go through the motions than to wake him up. Trust me, I’ve tried both.”
I felt a knot in my gut as I watched Wynter fight with his own mind, clawing at his sheets, pained sounds escaping his lips.
“How are we to just sit back and watch, do nothing?” I asked my voice spiteful.
Cahya sighed. “It’s not about staying idle and doing nothing. It’s about knowing what he needs, and right now he needs to finish this on his own. Waking him up in the middle of it could make it worse.”
I couldn’t afford to argue with my brother; he sounded like he’d seen this a thousand times before and he was so very certain.
“Is it always this bad?” I wondered, wanting to leap into Wynter’s dreamscape and make it stop.
“It isn’t always, but when it is, you just have to wait it out, he’ll come out of it eventually, and when he does, that’s when you can help.”
