Word Count: 431
Blaise wakes, screaming.
It isn't fair. He should be over this by now. The war ended half a year ago, but he is still haunted, and he doesn't know if he will ever be okay again. Outside, lightning cracks, the flash illuminating his bedroom. In its brief brilliance, he realizes Theo is awake.
That makes everything even worse. Blaise likes to pretend he's strong because if he pretends, Theo doesn't have to worry about him. Knowing his screams have woken Theo makes Blaise want to melt into oblivion and disappear forever.
"I'm fine," Blaise says, but his voice cracks. He shakes his head; he will not break down today.
"You don't sound fine. You've been tossing and turning for the past hour."
Blaise swears under his breath. So, he's kept Theo awake. This might just keeps getting worse. "It's just a nightmare," he says. "Go back to sleep."
Instead, his boyfriend moves closer, wrapping his arms around Blaise. It's the only thing that makes Blaise feel safe anymore, like he doesn't have all these fucking demons in his head to remind him how pathetic he is.
"Okay, fine. I lied." He takes a deep breath, trembling with the weight of the guilt. "It was the nightmare again."
Long before the war ended, he started dreaming about the awful things he did. He tries to convince himself he had to, that the Carrows would have made him their next victim if didn't torture the younger kids. It wasn't like he enjoyed it the way Crabbe and Goyle did.
But it isn't enough to make him feel better. He is still a monster. It doesn't matter that it was done to ensure his own survival. He remembers Longbottom refusing and enduring the pain as he was punished for his disobedience. Why couldn't Blaise have been more like him? Why did he have to be such a coward?
He wonders if Longbottom is haunted like this. Probably not. Blaise, however, relives it night after night. He can see the little kids so vividly in his head. One girl, only eleven, had been so small, so pitiful. She had begged him for mercy, and he had refused.
"One day at a time," Theo whispers.
It's become their mantra. Sometimes it helps. Mostly, though, it's just a collection of useless words that will never come close to easing his guilt.
Tonight, he lets the words wrap around him, bringing the smallest semblance of comfort. Tonight, he will forgive himself and pretend it's enough to make the pain go away.
Maybe one day they will be okay.