Scarlet didn’t sleep much any more: not since the Mysterons had killed him five years previously. It had been unsettling at first, but in general it had stopped bothering him quite some time ago because those extra five or six hours were really very productive. These days, it was time he could spend bonding with his infant daughter, soothing and settling her when Rhapsody had fallen asleep with her still on the breast.
No, what bothered him these days was something foolish. Because he loved waking up to find his wife curled into his side, or spooned around her, holding her in his arms. He adored watching her sleep. What was bothering him was that she never got to experience the same thing. Scarlet was far too restless to stay in bed while he was wide awake, and even on the odd occasion that she did see him wake up in the morning, he never had that half-asleep time any more; he went from asleep to wide awake with no muzziness at all.
He knew it was ridiculous, because it didn’t seem to bother Rhapsody particularly. When he managed to slip back into bed first thing in the morning and have her wake up beside him, she seemed pleasantly surprised, but she never seemed disappointed when he wasn’t there, or to find that he had seen to the baby. She was just happy to see him.
Scarlet still worried though, thinking that maybe his unique sleeplessness would come between them eventually. And those night-time hours when she slept and he was alone with his thoughts were the times when he tended to dwell on it.
He sighed as he looked over to the bed and the peaceful face of his slumbering wife before a soft snuffle pulled his attention back down.
“We’re very lucky, you know,” he whispered to the heavy-lidded blue eyes blinking up at him from his arms. “Your mummy is brilliant.”
And she was. She took everything in her stride, and Scarlet had to trust that she was still fine with all of his differences, sleeplessness included.