Subin's hands shook. This shouldn't be possible. No one knew this much detail about this room.

  He never described the room to anyone.

  It wasn't something that felt important when he did talk about his nightmares.

  But this was a perfect recreation.

  His chest hurt, like someone had a giant hand wrapped around him and was slowly squeezing.

  “My Lord, are you alright?”

  Harker’s voice cuts through the silence, as he looks at Subin with concern. The sound shocks him for a moment, causing him to take a deep breath in.

  Oh.

  That's why his chest hurts, he stopped breathing.

  How-how did they know?

  Did he say something? Or did he-

  “My Lord?” Harker's hands were on his shoulders, the man bent down slightly to be at eye level with him. When did that happen?

  His eyes scan Subin’s face, and his lips twist in a small frown.

  “Are you okay?” His voice is gentle, and his frown only deepens when Subin doesn't respond.

  How can he be okay? This feels… horrible.

  How is he here?

  Wait.

  Maybe this is just another nightmare.

  It wasn't like he only had the one nightmare that repeated over and over again, there were different ones. They changed constantly.

  Maybe he's just dreaming again. A… weird one where he is more present?

  Which means he's just going to die again.

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  Subin curls his shoulders in, inadvertently making himself look smaller. He doesn't want to go through that again, especially in a nightmare that feels so real.

  He-

  His train of thought is interrupted again, this time by Harker moving closer and wrapping an arm around Subin's chest.

  “Forgive me, I should have realized that- I will get the room cleaned, and everything else prepared.

  “For now,” and suddenly Subin is swept off his feet, Harker scooping him off the floor with one hand under his knees and the other in the middle of his back, “you need rest My Lord.”

  Subin's brain short circuits. This man had, until now, been so timid about making him upset and now he was carrying him? In a princess carry?

  What the hell?

  “I am sorry I forgot how hard it would be in this room at first. Everything will be cleaned by the time you are awake, I promise.” He says walking towards the stairs.

  “You can put me d-” Subin stops mid sentence as Harker jostles him slightly, changing his grip on Subin.

  For a split second nothing is holding his legs, until what Subin had thought was a prop tail wraps around his legs supporting them so Harker’s hand is free.

  What.

  The fuck.

  Before he can ask a single question or even fully process that, Harker places a hand on the wall and the stairs that Subin thought were just those pretentious floating stairs move.

  They swirl for a moment in response to whatever the man has done, twisting in a way that if they had been suspended by strings they would have been tangled to hell.

  But no.

  They neatly line themselves up, as if they were always slotted into the wall, and not doing whatever the fuck that was.

  He's got to be dreaming? Right?

  Are they going to fall down the stairs? And that's how this ends?

  It would be the stupidest nightmare he's ever had.

  But that would make the stairs and tail make sense.

  Dream logic.

  It just kind of goes, fuck your science.

  He hears Harker’s voice as they climb the stairs, but he can't make out the words. He isn't mumbling, but whatever he said doesn't register as something he knows.

  The words feel different though, like they hold something within them, and that thing seems to settle over Subin. It's pleasant, and warm, and makes him realize just how exhausted he is.

  By the time they're at the top of the stairs he's nodding off.

  “I should have done more, I'm sorry Cephros.” Harker's voice is a whisper, but Subin still manages to hear him.

  The name he says, Cephros? It feels familiar.

  Not in a way that Subin likes. As far as he knows he shouldn't know that name in any way, but it feels like he does.

  Before he can think about it too much, he's surrounded by the softest bedding he has ever felt in his life.

  Unable to fight sleep anymore, he drifts off.