Arthur is....mostly fine. He doesn't look or behave like someone who's had such a traumatic experience, and he absolutely doesn't act like it came back to him in his dreams. The reason is simple: he doesn't remember. He never remembers.
He can guess, more or less, what happened that day. He can describe, in a general sense, what haunts the dreams he can't remember because he knows what Simon went through. The details are lost to him but he's told he calls out for his family on the (admittedly fairly rare) occasion he has a nightmare. And honestly? He's fine with this. Sure he wakes bummed and bothered, but he gets on with his day and has usually forgotten about the nightmare entirely by nightfall.
It's been harder here. Arthur isn't used to being without Simon, and none of the people here could ever make up for that bond. Without the medic here to ground him, his nightmares come more frequently and take longer to fade. With no desire to recreate something impossible to replace or to bother other people with a past he doesn't especially care about, there's one other source of comfort in the aftermath.
Tonight, Arthur is in the mess hall long after everyone else has gone to bed, with a pile of sweets and snacks big enough to keep even the quickest eater busy for a while. For some reason he can't quite place, he's more anxious after the nightmare than usual. More than he should be.
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He can guess, more or less, what happened that day. He can describe, in a general sense, what haunts the dreams he can't remember because he knows what Simon went through. The details are lost to him but he's told he calls out for his family on the (admittedly fairly rare) occasion he has a nightmare. And honestly? He's fine with this. Sure he wakes bummed and bothered, but he gets on with his day and has usually forgotten about the nightmare entirely by nightfall.
It's been harder here. Arthur isn't used to being without Simon, and none of the people here could ever make up for that bond. Without the medic here to ground him, his nightmares come more frequently and take longer to fade. With no desire to recreate something impossible to replace or to bother other people with a past he doesn't especially care about, there's one other source of comfort in the aftermath.
Tonight, Arthur is in the mess hall long after everyone else has gone to bed, with a pile of sweets and snacks big enough to keep even the quickest eater busy for a while. For some reason he can't quite place, he's more anxious after the nightmare than usual. More than he should be.
Weird.