There came out a small grunt of a man. The room was sticky with thick darkness and faint odour of sweat. A pale dash of moonlight pierced in through the ajar windows while two shadows of men restlessly shifted their positions on the bed.
"Altair," Malik grumbled. "For god's sake, go to sleep. It's four thirty and I have a morning shift in… god, two hours."
Late summer night was getting its sharp edge, a touch of the coming autumn. Altair mumbled something that Malik did not catch with his sleepy ears, and he nuzzled his head into the back of Malik's shoulder.
"Sorry" Altair whispered. Malik hummed. He liked hearing that word which was the latest addition to Altair's vocabulary. It reminded Malik how his lover learnt to sallow the obnoxious pride of his.
"What's wrong?" With his annoyance eased a little bit, Malik sighed. Altair's eyes were closed tight but they were clearly awake. Malik stoked Altair's short brown hair with his right hand which was now the only arm that was left to him.
Altair didn't respond. It was a nightmare, then-Malik thought. It always was a nightmare when Altair was stirred up like a child in bed. He knew what Altair would have seen in his dreams. He knew that it will visit his lover again, haunting their souls and shaking their love. But what good was to be found where the past cannot be altered? What use it was to speak the bloody memories out loud only to wide open their still fresh wounds?
"Come on, you big baby. Go to sleep." Malik cooed, holding Altair's arm tight with his. "Everything's fine."
As secretly as it slipped out, it was true. It was the only truth that they had in the world where nothing was true and everything was permitted.