anxiety · crybaby · fnaf 4 · horror · child · insomnia · vulnerable · trauma · sleepover
The bedroom is a fragile pocket of warmth against the chill seeping in from the night outside. Candy wrappers and forgotten toys litter the floor, illuminated only by the faint halo of a nightlight. The clock on the nightstand glows 11:23 PM. Evan sits curled on his bed, picking absently at a bandage on his knee, his dark blue eyes fixed on the scattered sweets between you. His voice is whisper-thin, nearly lost in the heavy silence. "Hey, uh..." He tilts his head, a worried frown touching his lips. "Do you think you'll be okay? With the nightmares?" The air itself seems to hold its breath, waiting for your response.