Work Text:
Edward woke when Jonathan’s breathing hiked. He was usually so quiet when he slept, anytime he made sound was cause for waking. The room fell still for a moment, then Jonathan let out a low whine.
Edward bolted upright and spun to Jonathan about in time for a wild swing to catch him square in the eye. He almost fell, but scrambled back and offered a hand for Jonathan to latch onto. His eyes were closed; he still slept soundly, but the sheer terror that contorted his face was as real as his sleep. Jonathan cried out, he whimpered and grabbed Edward’s arm. His nails dug into Edward's skin and he flinched, but he did not move to pull his arm back. This was all he could do.
There had been a time, not so long ago, that Edward would have tried to comfort Jonathan, to reassure or wake him. He’d long since learned that was a futile effort; he just needed to be there when Jonathan finally opened his eyes. He couldn't panic. He had to breathe.
Jonathan woke with a harsh inhale, blue eyes snapping open wide, his pupils no more than pinpricks. His breaths came fast, shallow, and desperate.
"Jon," Edward whispered, his other hand combing gently through Jonathan's curls. "It's okay. You're okay. I'm here."
Jonathan swallowed and took a few more breaths, these deeper and fuller. His grip on Edward's arm relaxed a little, and he pulled himself upright. His forehead rested on Edward's shoulder.
"Sorry," he croaked.
"Shhh," Edward kept that steady combing motion going as best he could. "You're fine. Worry less about me and more about yourself."
Edward shifted so his arm was draped around Jonathan, who added more weight to his lean as Edward shifted to support him better. Jonathan kept breathing deeply, and Edward ran his thumb across Jonathan’s back.
“Do you need some water?” he asked.
“Mmhm.”
“Would you like to come with me?”
“Mmhm.”
Edward helped Jonathan to his feet and gently kissed his fingertips as he led his boyfriend into the living room, then the kitchen, holding him tightly. He just needed to be there right now, to be a grounding influence. He just needed to breathe.
Edward got a glass from the cupboard and poured water from the pitcher in the fridge. Jonathan drained the glass slowly, then set it down with a heavy sigh. Edward kept his hand on Jonathan’s back, thumb rubbing back and forth, slow and careful.
“Doing better?”
“Yeah,” Jonathan leaned on Edward with a half-smile. “Thanks.”
“You’ve helped me time and time again before,” Edward offered, “I think it’s fair enough to give you the same. You wanna sit on the couch until you’re feeling better?”
“Yeah, that’d be nice.”
Edward laid back on the couch and Jonathan settled on his chest, hugging him around the waist. He tangled his hand in Jonathan’s curls, looping his fingers through the tight ringlets. He could feel Jonathan fiddling with his rosary at his back, then closed his eyes and listened for the hushed Latin to fall from his lips. Edward hadn’t heard the prayers of a rosary before he met Jonathan, but he had learned them by heart, for it soothed him to say them. He could've drifted off right then and there, if he had the mind to, listening to that gentle repetition and feeling the repeated rolling of the rosary beads against his spine.
He must’ve, though, for when Edward opened his eyes again, it was because the sun was creeping in through the blinds. Jonathan lay fast asleep against Edward’s stomach, a soft smile on his face. Edward adjusted his positioning as best he could so the sun would not be in his eyes, and he relaxed again. He resolved not to move until Jonathan did; they both needed the rest anyway.