�Sanny? �Sanny, are you awake?� The Author has his hand on my shoulder, nudging me gently. So many questions arise instantly. Why is he in here? What does he want from me? What time is it? There is one question that stands out though, and I ask it, although I am not even close to being awake and it just comes out as disgruntled mumbling.
�How d�you think I can sleep through you poking me?� I roll over onto my back and squint into the darkness. I can�t see him very well, because I don�t have my glasses on and my eyes haven�t adjusted to the dark. He�s sitting on the edge of the bed, beside my desk. The green glow of the clock is bright enough that I can just make out his face.
�Sorry� I dunno. Sorry.� Something is wrong. That�s not something he�d apologize for� ever. Getting an apology for something stupid like that only happens once in a blue moon. Reaching out blindly, I poke him in the back.
�Hey, are you okay?� I ask, because I know something isn't right. He�s not saying anything, but I can hear him fiddling with things on my desk. There�s no way he�ll ever tell me if I don�t ask. It�s like he�s determined to never let anyone know that he has emotions other than �ridiculously happy�, �annoying�, and hungry�. I keep my hand my hand on his back, but by the time he answers it�s fallen back onto the bed because I�m almost asleep again.
�Ah� can� could I sleep with you?� As soon as he asks, I realize what the problem is. Normally he�d have no problem with just climbing under the covers with me, no matter how much I protest, but every once in a while he gets all shy about it. When he has a nightmare. I hardly ever see him showing any signs of vulnerability, and it�s just� weird. If you didn�t know him really well you�d think nothing ever affected him.
�Yeah, of course,� I whisper. Sitting up, I put my arm on his shoulder and he jumps. Damn, I didn�t mean to scare him. Now that I�m sitting closer to him his face isn�t so blurry, and I can see it�s a little damp. Any tears left are quickly wiped away with the back of his hand when he realizes I can see him. The bed creaks as he shuffles over and gets under the blanket. When his bare feet touch my legs I can�t help but gasp because they�re freezing. The idiot has probably been up for a while already. He gives a little sniffly laugh that makes me smile. As I lie back down I put my hand on the back of his head and pull him down so his head is on my chest.
There isn�t really anything I can think of to say to him right now, and I feel so bad. I�m not good at making people feel better; I�m usually the problem, if anything� The dream he has is one of those recurring ones, the kind you get after something scares the ever-loving shit out of you and you can�t sleep for three days. What can you say to that? I�m sorry? That�s not really good enough.
If anyone has a legitimate reason to be having nightmares, it�s him. He described it to me the first time this happened, and it�s no wonder he can�t sleep. I don�t really know much about Odin, but it has to do with him, and when he died. It starts out all normal, but then they�re running for some reason. It�s like the kind of dream where you know it�s coming, but you can�t wake up anyway. Odin keeps getting further and further while Author just stays in the same place. He knows how it�s going to end, and he tries to call to him, but no sound comes out. Then he�s just right there all of a sudden, right beside him, and� it happens, and he wakes up. Author told me that it�s always so real that it�s just like it�s happening all over again.
�Thanks, kiddo,� he mumbles into the fabric of my shirt. �I�m sorry I woke you.� Moving closer, he puts his hand on my waist. His eyes are still wide open, not really focused on anything, but I know what he wants. I hear him sniffle again when I put my free arm around him in a hug. Poor thing.
�It�s fine,� I assure him. �I�m here, you�re alright. Just try and get some sleep, okay?� Although he nods, we both know it�s not going to happen.