Vinny barely slept after jerking himself awake from that nightmare. Every time his eyes slid shut, even for a heartbeat, flashes of it clawed their way back:
The cold water.
Matthew's shadow looming.
The grip on his wrist.
The words screamed behind him.
The feeling of being pinned, helpless, unable to breathe.
He woke drenched in sweat and confusion, chest tight, heart pounding violently—only to find Matthew's arm hooked around his waist, pulling him close even in sleep. Matthew's grip wasn't gentle; it was a binding, unconscious claim, fingers pressed hard into Vinny's ribs like he feared Vinny would vanish if he let go.
Vinny spent the rest of the night staring at the ceiling, unmoving, terrified that any movement might wake Matthew. His mind spiraled, replaying every second of the nightmare until his stomach knotted itself into something cold and sickening.
When dawn finally softened the room, Matthew stirred. Not waking fully—just shifting, pulling Vinny even closer, burying his face in Vinny's hair with a quiet sigh. A sigh of contentment, of peace.
Vinny froze.
His heart thudded.
His breath shuddered.
Matthew's warmth pressed against his back felt suffocating.
The nightmare and reality blurred dangerously.
He didn't move.
He didn't speak.
He waited.
Eventually, Matthew's grip loosened as sleep pulled him deeper. It was enough for Vinny to slowly, carefully slide out from the circle of his arms, his movements small and controlled, like someone trying to escape a wild animal without triggering its instinct to attack.
His wrists ached—the chain tugged as he moved, but he managed to sit up on the edge of the bed. For several minutes he simply sat there, taking deep, shaking breaths, trying to convince himself that the nightmare wasn't real.
Matthew hadn't hurt him like that.
Matthew hadn't screamed at him.
Matthew hadn't—
The images still burned too vividly.
By the time Matthew finally woke, Vinny had already mentally sealed himself off.
Matthew noticed immediately.
He always did.
Vinny was quiet, withdrawn, stiff. He answered questions with one-word replies. He avoided eye contact. He kept his distance—even though the chain prevented true distance.
Matthew watched him with an unreadable expression.
Breakfast felt surreal. Matthew sat across from him at the small table in the bedroom, eating calmly, glancing up every so often with a faint, thoughtful tilt of his head. Vinny forced bites down, appetite nonexistent, throat dry.
Matthew spoke first.
"You're quiet."
Vinny flinched. "I'm just tired."
A lie. A bad one. Matthew's eyes narrowed, but he didn't argue. He simply studied him—patiently, silently, in a way that made Vinny's skin crawl with awareness.
When Vinny finished eating, Matthew took the plate from him, set it aside, and brushed Vinny's hair off his forehead.
A soft gesture.
Too soft.
Vinny forced himself not to recoil—but his shoulders still tensed.
Matthew's hand paused.
Then slowly, deliberately, he lowered his hand and stepped back.
He didn't say a word, but the quiet thickened.
The rest of the morning passed with the same uncomfortable tension. The air felt fragile, brittle, as if one wrong word would shatter it.
Matthew tried to coax him into conversation.
Vinny kept his answers clipped.
Matthew moved closer.
Vinny leaned away.
And Matthew saw it.
He saw every flinch, every hesitation, every darting glance at the chain.
His jaw clenched once. Just once. And the temperature in the room seemed to drop.
By the afternoon, Vinny retreated to the farthest corner of the room the chain allowed. He sat on the floor, knees pulled to his chest, staring at nothing. His mind spiraled endlessly through the nightmare, looping, twisting, feeding into itself.
Matthew watched him from the armchair—silent, unmoving, elbows resting lightly on his knees. He wasn't angry. He wasn't irritated. He wasn't impatient.
He was simply observing.
Quietly.
Steadily.
Too intently.
As if Vinny himself was the puzzle he was trying to unravel piece by unsettling piece.
Hours passed like that.
Vinny couldn't take it anymore. His thoughts clawed at him; the guilt, the fear, the confusion—everything tangled until it was hard to breathe.
He stood abruptly.
Matthew lifted his head.
Vinny turned away.
Matthew stood too.
The chain clinked softly between them.
"Vinny," Matthew murmured. Calm. Too calm. "Come here."
Vinny didn't move.
His voice came out small. "I… I just need space."
Silence.
Then a slow exhale from Matthew—measured, deliberate.
"You can't have space."
The words landed heavy.
Vinny swallowed. "I know. I just meant—"
"What's wrong." It wasn't a question. It was an unyielding prompt. "Tell me."
"I'm fine."
Matthew took one step closer.
Vinny backed up instinctively.
And that tiny, subtle retreat—that unconscious recoil—was the crack that broke Matthew's composure.
He didn't explode.
He didn't shout.
He didn't grab him.
He simply froze.
Then his expression smoothed into something terribly serene.
Something that felt like the calm before a storm that never ends—just waits.
"Vinny," he said quietly, voice soft as velvet. "Look at me."
Vinny couldn't. His eyes remained fixed on the floor.
Matthew's voice dipped lower. "Look at me."
Shaking, Vinny finally did.
Matthew stepped close enough that their breaths mingled. His hand lifted slowly—telegraphed, gentle—giving Vinny every chance to move away.
Vinny still flinched.
Matthew's hand stopped midair.
His silence deepened.
Then he spoke, voice soft enough to feel like a trap closing.
"You're afraid of me."
Vinny's breath hitched.
Matthew's eyes—those calm, unreadable eyes—remained fixed on his face.
"Why?"
Vinny swallowed hard. "I… I had a nightmare."
Matthew blinked very slowly. "About me."
It wasn't a guess. It was a certainty.
Tears pricked Vinny's eyes.
Matthew's voice dropped to a whisper. "What… did I do to you, in this dream of yours?"
Vinny hesitated.
Matthew waited.
Unmoving.
Patient.
A hunter giving prey all the time in the world to tire itself out.
Vinny's throat tightened painfully. "You… you hurt me. Badly. You were angry, and I didn't know why, and you kept—" He broke off, the memories crashing back in vivid, nauseating detail. "It felt so real."
Matthew didn't interrupt.
"It felt like something you could do," Vinny whispered brokenly. "Like something you might do if I made you angry enough."
Still, Matthew didn't speak.
Vinny hugged himself tighter. "I know it wasn't real, but… I can't stop seeing it. It won't get out of my head."
And finally—finally—Matthew moved.
Not in anger.
Not in frustration.
He stepped forward and pulled Vinny into his chest, arms closing around him with a gentle strength that made Vinny gasp from the sudden contrast.
The embrace was soft—devastatingly soft. One hand slid to the back of Vinny's head, cradling him. The other wrapped around his waist, pulling him close with slow, deliberate tenderness.
Vinny shuddered. "Matthew…"
Matthew lowered his head, resting his cheek against Vinny's hair. His voice was so soft, so deceptively calm, it made Vinny's heart stutter.
"Nightmares aren't the truth."
Vinny's fingers curled weakly into Matthew's shirt.
"They're reflections," Matthew murmured, "of fear. Of uncertainty. Of things you don't say."
Vinny closed his eyes, breathing unevenly.
Matthew stroked his hair, slow, rhythmic movements meant to soothe. "I'm right here. I'm not going anywhere. And neither are you."
The last sentence trembled with quiet, unshakeable finality.
Vinny tensed.
Matthew felt it.
He hugged him tighter.
"You're mine," he whispered into Vinny's hair. "Even in your nightmares, you know that."
Vinny's pulse thundered.
"And I will protect you," Matthew continued softly, "from dreams. From fear. From anything that hurts you."
He pressed a slow, lingering kiss to the side of Vinny's head.
"Even from yourself."
Vinny's voice trembled. "Then… why am I still chained?"
Matthew's arms tightened in a way that almost—almost—felt like apology.
But not quite.
His breath warmed Vinny's ear. "Because I love you," he whispered gently, "more than I trust you."
Vinny's chest caved.
Matthew held him as if he were the most precious, fragile thing he'd ever touched.
But he didn't reach for the lock.
He didn't loosen the chain.
He didn't even consider it.
Instead, he pulled Vinny closer—so close that Vinny could barely breathe—and rested his forehead against Vinny's temple.
"You're safe," he breathed.
"You're with me."
"And you're not going anywhere."
The chain between them chimed softly, sealing the promise.