For as long as he could remember, Sami had always had nightmares.

As a young child he would wake up, screaming and thrashing at his blankets, gasping for breath, tears streaming down his face. His mother would rush to his room and hold his shaking, sobbing five-year-old frame, running her hands through his hair and murmuring soothing words of Arabic until he drifted off again. Over the years, even as he grew, she would do the same again, again and again.

It wasn't even like they were recurring nightmares, about some traumatizing experience or deep-seated phobia or what-have-you. They changed. Sometimes they weren't even nightmares, really. When Sami was fifteen and his great-granddad died, he ended up, once again, spending the night sobbing into his mother's shoulder after waking up panicked and crying from a dream about the times they went out fishing together. When his first serious relationship ended, he was plagued for at least a month by dreams about their dates that would leave him clinging to his blankets with his face buried into his pillow for the rest of the night.

Obviously, this presented a problem when his wrestling career began to take off.

Kevin had just wanted to sleep.

Really, that's all he had wanted. He was sore, and tired, and as much as he had made sure Generico took the majority of the beating in their tag match, that didn't much help the ache of his bruised ego after taking such a thorough ass-kicking and losing so spectacularly. Generico had comforted him, rubbed his back and told him it didn't matter, they'd get them next time, but, pfft, what the hell did he know.

Generico.

He was the reason Kevin was awake right now, at ass o'clock in the morning, when the rest of the (intelligent, happy, well-rested) world was rightfully asleep. It wasn't like Generico hadn't had nightmares when they had shared a room before - he had them quite often, regularly, but normally Kevin just slept right through them (he was a heavy sleeper and, now that he thought about it, that may have been why he was one of only a few to regularly team with Generico). But tonight? Tonight, if Kevin hadn't known better, he would've thought Generico was getting choked out in his sleep or something. He had thought that at first, actually, and had rolled over expecting to see a shadowy figure leaning over his friend, holding a pillow to his face or hands to his throat. Nope - just Generico, eyes still screwed shut as he threw himself about in bed, gangly limbs all over the place, little moans and half-formed words escaping his mouth every now and then. Kevin had groaned and flipped himself back over, expecting (hoping) to drop off to sleep again, but, goddamn, Generico was loud. Kevin had once shared a room with a guy who was quieter while fucking two strippers at once. (The guy had invited Kevin to join, but Kevin happened to highly value his sleep.)

He was about three seconds away from throwing down the pillow he had pressed tightly to his head and jumping out of bed to wake Generico himself when, rather suddenly, it all stopped. Well, it didn't stop, exactly; Generico's whole body jumped, like someone who had just been jolted by a taser, and he took one big gasp of breath, releasing it all in a long, shuddering exhale. Then the room fell almost entirely silent and, really, that almost made Kevin even more uncomfortable than before.

In the bed parallel, Kevin could hear Generico panting, shitty hotel bed springs creaking beneath him as he shifted from side to side, probably looking around the dark, unfamiliar room, and god, Kevin wished he could ignore him. He wanted so bad to ignore him. Why couldn't he just ignore him? Why couldn't he have got his own room? Why had he been stuck with such a stupid tag team partner?

Kevin tossed himself over onto his other side again, facing Generico who, he could see in the slight glow coming through the thin curtains, had a sheen of sweat over his pale skin.

"You had a nightmare."

Generico's head whipped around to look at him and, Jesus, he looked like he had just run a marathon. Actually, it was rather more like he had just escaped the clutches of a serial killer, taking into account the wild eyes and shaking muscles.

"Y-yeah," Generico stuttered, voice wavering and breaking, and Kevin could see him try to muster up an even shakier smile.

It irritated him. He desperately wanted to tell him he was a baby and to grow a pair, but in his state, he was pretty sure that would make Generico cry and Kevin really preferred to save that until after breakfast, at least.

"Are you okay?"

Generico looked confused for a few moments as the cogs inside whatever brain it was he had strained to process the question. "U-uh, um, yeah. I mean...I don't think I hurt myself..." He looked down at his arms, and Kevin rolled his eyes.

"No, I mean like...are you okay?"

Silence ticked by again, and then, "Oh. Um...yeah. Sure...I guess..." He tried that weak, unconvincing smile again.

Kevin stared at him, frowning in the dark. Generico was a terrible liar.

"Alright." He finally said and turned away from Generico, dropping his head back onto his pillow. He slid his eyes shut, and in the bed across, he heard Generico lie down himself.

Quiet fell over them for a few peaceful, glorious minutes, and Kevin was just on the brink of falling asleep when it was broken again. This time by sniffling and broken, shuddering breaths.

Generico was crying.

And it wasn't even because of him.

Kevin wasn't sure which pissed him off more.

And so Kevin went through the same thought process he had just minutes before. Why couldn't he just ignore Generico? His life would be so much easier if he could. It wasn't like he cared for Generico. He didn't even like Generico. Generico was just a lanky, white, ginger, stupidly-cheerful, annoyingly-nice, ska-loving freak-

With a loud sigh, Kevin discarded his blankets, stormed out of his bed and threw himself down onto Generico's, stretching out alongside him. For the first time possibly ever, Generico's scrawniness came in handy, because they would have otherwise never fit.

Generico snapped his head up whiplash-fast to stare at him, eyes still glassy and cheeks still wet. Kevin looked across the pillow at him, their two gazes locking. Kevin had never really noticed the shade of Generico's eyes before because, well, they were never in close enough vicinity or he just plain didn't bother, but they were quite nice, he realized. God, he was becoming a sap - Generico was contagious.

"You're a giant fucking baby, you know that, right?"

Right then, Generico looked like a goddamn puppy, bottom lip quivering as he stared at Kevin with eyes like a deer's in the headlights. If the deer was Bambi, and the headlights were the barrel of the hunter's gun.

Kevin sighed again and threw an arm around Generico's neck, pulling him in towards his chest. "C'mere."

Generico was stiff and apprehensive and for a moment, Kevin thought he was going to freak out and bolt away from him. Really, he couldn't have blamed him - it wasn't like he often treated Generico with so much tender, loving care. But Generico soon relaxed, settling into the crook of his arm, laying his head down over his heart. Then, very softly, he started crying again, because of course, and he was probably going to get snot all over Kevin's sleeping shirt and Kevin was going to be so pissed in the morning and was probably going to steal money from Generico to pay for the drycleaners, but whatever. For now he just squeezed Generico closer against him and stroked his hair with his free hand, all while staring up at the ceiling and wondering how in the hell he got to this point.

That night, he figured he wouldn't be able to sleep because of the heavy lug of a man-baby he had practically lying on top of him. He didn't care.

As it turned out, he had the best sleep of his life.

They didn't think about it. They barely talked about it. After that, that was just how they were.

When Kevin turned on him, Sami didn't sleep for a week, and when he finally did the nightmares came every night. Hard.

And the same happened when Kevin turned on him again but worse, so much worse, because he should have known. He should've known, he should've seen it coming, he should've, he should've, he should've. But he had just been so happy to have Kevin talking to him again, his head filling with dreams of having Kevin, the Kevin he once knew and loved back again, dreams of them going back to how they once were, that he forgave and he forgot. And he didn't think, for even a second, that he would-

Well.

The nightmares reminded him every night of his mistake now.

It wasn't like Sami didn't have good things in his life. He did. More than he ever had before, even. He had good friends, he had people who loved him. He slept in hotels that were almost halfway comfortable, now.

But still, there was Kevin. Laughing at him, taunting him, breaking him. And what hurt the most was that Sami didn't even know why, didn't even know what he had done. Every time he opened his mouth to ask, he was met with a boot and kicked-in teeth.

People loved him, sure. But Kevin still hated him.

Finn loved Sami.

God, did Finn love Sami. He had been in love so many times before, with Karl, with Hideo, with countless others (he was a stupid, hopeless romantic, he knew), and had got his heart broken each time and each time harder than the last. But when it came to Sami, he almost let himself hope again. Almost. Because Sami was sunshine, Sami was warmth; Sami was the exact shape and size of a piece of Finn's heart that he had been missing for a long time. And Finn was sure Sami loved him back, too, loved him with just as much breathless ferocity and heart-aching desperation. Loved him with that same tug from deep within the ribcage where the soul rested.

Finn was sure that Sami loved him back, and sure that maybe, just maybe, he would be lucky enough to have Sami stick around when so many others hadn't before.

But.

(And there was always a but, Finn had long since learnt this.)

At night, Sami had dreams.

Or nightmares, maybe. Finn thought they fell somewhere in between, leaning more towards one depending on the day.

He didn't even notice them, at first. Finn had a tendency to go out bar-hopping after shows, and while Sami tagged along sometimes, he was much more inclined to go back to the hotel and rest, meaning Finn would often return to their hotel room long after he had fallen asleep, slipping into their bed and passing out into a deep sleep only those past being buzzed fall into. He wouldn't wake until their alarm went at what felt like far too early in the morning, grumbling about so few hours of sleep, Sami just laughing and throwing a pillow at him.

Finn wondered how long they had gone on without him noticing. He figured they had probably started long before he had even come along. Even after he noticed, he didn't do or say anything for weeks, unsure of what he even could do. Sami would toss and turn in bed next to him, groaning and mumbling small, unintelligible words until waking, not long (but what felt like hours to Finn) later with a jump and a gasp. He would lie, for god knows how long, with his whole body tense and shivering, breathing heavily, until finally rolling over and curling an arm around Finn's waist, pressing his head against his back. It would take minutes after for Sami's breathing to calm down again, and even longer for him to once again fall back asleep.

Finn didn't get it, at first. Sami was a cheerful guy, even more-so than most (more than Finn himself, even, and Finn considered himself an optimist). He didn't understand the nightmares, why someone like Sami would be waking up so often in a cold sweat.

Then, one night, moments before waking up, Sami murmured,

"Kev..."

And Finn got it.

He didn't need that explained.

It was that night that he finally said something. He shifted in bed, flipping over to face Sami, much to Sami's surprise. They stared at each other through the darkness, Finn's eyes bleary with sleep, Sami's much more awake.

"You okay, Sami?"

Finn could just see Sami blink. He paused, then said, "Uh...um...yeah. I'm fine. Did I wake you up?"

"Yeah. 's fine, though." He reached a hand across the small space of mattress between them, brushing it over Sami's cheek and bristly jaw. "You wanna talk about it?"

Sami shook his head quickly, surprisingly so. "No. No, I'm...no."

They were quiet for a while, just lying there, Finn stroking his palm down Sami's face. Sami seemed pale to him, paler even than usual. "Are you sure? 'Cause you know I love yo-"

"Finn," Sami's voice crept into a hard, almost pleading tone, something unusual to Finn's ears. "Please. I just...I just don't want to talk about it, okay?"

Finn hesitated, but nodded in the end.

He spent the rest of the night holding Sami, chin resting atop his head, the warmth of Sami's body against his chest. But no matter what he did, each night, the nightmares still kept up. He still often woke with Sami shaking, clammy, his forehead pressed tight to Finn's spine.

And often, he lay awake wondering just how much it was that Kevin Owens took from Sami Zayn.

Before, Sami's nightmares had been of people he loved. People he hated. Things he was scared of.

Now, they were just of Kevin.