Three days. It had been three days since Seraphim slept. Three long, torturous days that he lied to his lover about his sleep quality.

In truth, a harsh storm raged outside, the worst of the season so far. Seraphim couldn't sleep, every rumble of thunder and crack of lightning sending him into a panic. Cold sweat beaded his forehead, and he bit down on his own hand to stop himself from whimpering shamefully. He'd been drawing blood from punctures caused by his sharp teeth, wrapping his hands in bandages and stonewalling when concern was expressed for the demon.

Another crack of lightning, followed by the subsequent sizzling of the air causes Seraphim's hair to all stand on end, his heart feeling as though it'll beat right out of his chest. His breathing is quick and pained as he tries to suppress any noises. He can't bear the thought of them waking up and discovering what a coward he truly was. No, he'd simply crumple into pieces if that were to happen.

A long, loud and low rumble of thunder seems to stretch on forever, then next snap of lighting already searing through the air before the thunder can even finish. Seraphim flinches violently, nearly falling off the low klinē in his terror. Next to him, they stirred, but didn't fully wake.