Serenity
With each touch and stroke, his eyelids grew heavier. I stayed in a corner, running my fingers down the same spot, and watched his eyes close. Despite the pain, he remained silent and steadily, the breathing slowed to an inaudible pace.
The snores followed subsequently and the boy slept, peacefully unaware that I was (six feet) under the bed, crushed and pushed by his sheer strength.
But I laughed it off anyway.
And for the first time, in a very long time, I finally realised why I never had dreams of him. Because I don’t need dreams to tell me that he knew just how to make everything alright.