"Dexter," Saracen called, knocking on his door. Dexter groaned and rolled over in bed. He checked his phone. It was 1AM. Saracen, being ignored, started knocking faster, most likely in an attempt to irritate Dexter. Despite the time, Dexter got out of bed and opened the door. He always did when this happened (not that it happened often). And Saracen did the same for him. It was a silent rule they picked up during the war. All of the Dead Men, Saracen and Dexter included, were haunted by nightmares or kept awake by the real nightmares that await them in the future, and they would always be there for each other when it happened. At least, they tried to be.
Saracen was standing in the doorway, with his pillow in hand, gazing up at Dexter.
"What's wrong?" Dexter asked gently, though he hoped that nothing was wrong. He hoped that Saracen was restless and wanted to play board games or something to pass the time.
"I'm scared," Saracen said. They looked at each other for a moment, and then Dexter let him in. Saracen, wrapped in his blanket with his pillow dragging along the floor, came in and sat cross-legged on Dexter's bed, which Dexter noticed he did often. Dexter sat beside him, facing Saracen. "What's wrong?" Dexter repeated, hoping Saracen would give him a better explanation. The lights were off, but despite the darkness, Dexter imagined Saracen's face- his tired eyes and his dark eyebags, and his lonely smile that he often wore, and that he must not realize he wore- and reached out to touch him in a comforting way. "I don't know," Saracen muttered.
Dexter was quiet for a moment, and when he was sure that Saracen had nothing else to say, he asked, "Why are you scared?"
Saracen shook his head and leaned forward, "I don't know. I just am. I'm scared of everything right now- the war, our friends, myself, the future- I don't know."
Dexter reached out and hugged Saracen, "Do you want to talk about it?" He felt Saracen shake his head. For a moment, everything was silent. It was not an awkward silence, but instead, it was a comfortable silence, and they waited contentedly. Then, Saracen pulled away slightly, not enough to escape Dexter's arms, but he was close enough that their faces were nearly an inch apart. Dexter felt a wave of butterflies in his chest, but he pushed the feeling away; he had always loved Saracen in a romantic way. He was attracted to him, and he didn't know what to do to make it stop. He tried to ignore the feeling whenever it enveloped him, but in moments like this, where they were so close, Dexter felt so much affection for Saracen it was overwhelming. "I love you," Saracen told him. If only he loved me in that way, Dexter thought.
"I love you too," Dexter responded painfully. He tried to pull Saracen back into a tight hug in order to get their faces away, but Saracen didn't let him. He felt, irrationally, that Saracen would see right through his guise. Their eyes were getting used to the darkness and Dexter could see Saracen's eyes on him, and he sank down insecurely. Saracen swallowed, and before Dexter knew it, his lips were pressed against Saracen's. His mind went blank, and even though it was Saracen who had kissed him, for a split second he questioned whether he was the one to kiss Saracen. And just as his mind was getting back into sorts, Saracen pulled away. Dexter cupped Saracen's cheeks in his hands and pulled him back into a kiss. He had no idea then what would happen to their relationship, but he kissed him anyway, hoping that Saracen wasn't being impulsive, hoping that Saracen truly felt the same way towards him.