He does not sleep.
He is not sure that he could now.
Instead he holds her as she does and watches the ocean that rages in front of them. He feels the cold of the winter settle into his bones and he shifts his wings to something larger, something warmer. He flares them and then settles them over her back, drawing them closer so that he can keep her warm despite the ocean mist that rises up and continues to rain across their face, settling the bite of the cold in more.
When he feels her begin to stir again, his eyes are gritty and his throat sore. Exhaustion is so close to the surface of him but he doesn’t give into it. He just smiles, the curve of his lip small as he presses it into her forehead. He feels the storm of his emotions trapped in his chest and wonders why he doesn’t feel peaceful now. He feels it like a surge and wishes that he could be better for her. Wishes that he could give her the kind of love that she deserves but he knows that there’s something terribly broken within him.
Her question catches him off guard though and his handsome face sharpens and then folds, his frown reaching the light grey of his eyes. “This was more than alright,” he answers and wishes that he was more articulate so he could explain to her what he’s feeling. Wishes he could tell her the way his broken heart clenches in his chest and the way his pulse beats in all of the wrong ways. He should say more, he knows, to try and alleviate her fears but his mouth is dry and all the words flee from him completely.
All he can do is hold her quietly and listen to the ocean wake up before them.
BRIGADE
when I was a man I thought it ended when I knew love's perfect ache
but my peace has always depended on all the ashes in my wake