#for tiger

“He’s been having nightmares,” she tells Clear. She’d never looked as old as she did at this moment, and Clear wonders how much of her life she’d given just to ensure Mink could live his. He doesn’t think about that often, but in the light of the morning after another screaming fit that had woken the entire household, it seemed that he could only think of such somber things.

“Has he told you what they’re about?” Clear asks. Unlike the time before, and the time before that, she nods.

“He’s been dreaming about us being massacred.”

-

Mink does not entirely believe they are only dreams, these things that plague his sleep.

They feel too real – from the moment he smells the smoke and feels the heat of the fire burning so close, something settles with undeniable weight on his bones and he feels chained there, held fast and tight and without compromise.

Then again, even if it were a dream, watching his family be killed was hardly something he could just turn away from.

(In the waking hours he reduces it to such banal statements – “massacred, killed, murdered”. He does not want to find the words for what he’d seen, doesn’t want to solidify them in his memory as if they belonged there.

He does not want to remember.

Remembering would mean that it was real.)

-

When Mink wakes, Clear is sitting at the foot of his bed, sans scarf and coat and boots. When he sees that Mink is staring at him, he shifts and crawls under the blankets to lie close to him, leaving a fold of blankets between them.

Mink continues to stare. Clear does not speak, and meets his gaze head on.

Under his breath, he hums.

-

(In his dreams

Memories

He does not see Clear.

After some thought, and a handful of times repeating the same night, Mink decides that this is for the best.)

-

“I saw them die,” Mink whispers, “All of them.”

Clear does not say ‘It was just a dream’. Instead, he says, “They’re alive, here.”

“I lost them, somewhere else.”

“Not here.”

“I could.”

The possibility of losing everything is daunting. Mink realizes that this is the reality that does exist, the reality that he is powerless to prevent. He is nowhere near strong enough. Nor will he ever be.

Clear moves closer, his hands finding Mink’s unerringly even under the blankets. Solid, powerful, firm – his grip anchors Mink’s thoughts and his eyes widen and his breath hitches when Clear enfolds his hands in his.

“You won’t. You’re not going to lose anyone.”