It's easy, in the light of day, to believe that they can weather any storm. Side by side, the two of them have stood stall and strong like an oak. When the lights go down, however, that's when the insecurity sits in. The darkness illuminates all her doubts and fears. The weight of them-their secret-sits there, threatening to suffocate her. It's at night that he feels a million miles apart. She misses him when the lights go out.
Derek seems to sense this. They curl up under the blankets together, the lights go off, and the room starts to shrink in on her. Just before it crushes her, his arms encircle her, and he presses a kiss to her head, bringing her light.
That small, wordless offer of comfort is the reminder that she needs. They are good together. One day, they will have to confront their family with their relationship. For now, though, Casey can rely on his arms around her in the dark, his lips against her head; it will remind her that he's not going anywhere, that this as permanent to him as it is to her.
"Hold me tight," she whispers in the dark.
"For the rest of my life," he murmurs back, already practically asleep. Casey likes to think he finds peace there with her as well, so she settles in against the warmth of his light.