Over the past few weeks Logan had been sleeping restlessly, often waking up in the early hours of the morning to head off to the home gym he installed in your garage in the garden. He would never admit that he was having trouble sleeping, or that the ghosts of his past were haunting him, hanging over his shoulders like unwanted guests. He didn't have to. It was clear as day when you simply looked at him. For a man that could heal incredibly fast, he couldn't disguise the effect the lack of sleep caused. Logan, of course, wouldn't talk about it, he wasn't the type of man who wanted to talk about his thoughts or feelings, unless they were negative and towards someone he thought that done himself wrong or had done you wrong.

It was no surprise to anyone that you had loved him with all your heart, he loved you just as much, maybe even more. So, that was probably the reason why he didn't tell you if things were bothering him or causing him to worry, mainly because he didn't want those feelings to latch onto you.

When he had first told you about his mutation, a few years ago, he was one hundred percent certain you would hate him and kick him out of your house and life for good, but, when you smiled at him, with that tired smile you had when he told you things just before you were about to go to bed—believing that maybe you would be too tired to even hear what he said—and held your hand out to him, it took a minute to process that you were fine with it, despite hearing the increase of your heart that dropped back to normal when he took hold of your smaller hand.

Now, laying in bed beside him, you finally understood why he didn't want to fall asleep.

He had been tossing and turning, scrunching his face up in pain as beads of sweat began to take place along his forehead, soon spreading to the rest of his body. His hands gripped the fabric of the bedsheets tightly, balling them into his fists. Logan's muscles tensed up and soon incoherent and pained words dropped from his lips. The repetition of 'no' and 'please stop', 'don't do that', filled the room heavily, weighing down on his chest, as well as your own.

Sitting up, you placed your cold hands on his face, feeling his skin burning up with such heat that it would be extremely dangerous to someone without his mutation.

With soft words to pull him out of his sleep, he began to thrash.

His teeth gritted and he growled, pushing your hands away from him as his body contorted in pain.

It hurt to see him this way, knowing that you could do nothing to help him, you didn't know how to help him. All you could do was sit back and hope that it would end soon. There was no point falling asleep again, just in case something bad had happened and he needed you. When you turned to the clock beside your bed, the bright green glow of the numbers showed that it was only ten past three in the morning, not moments later did it changed to eleven past three.

Logan grunted, pulling his eyebrows together as his head moved side to side quickly, the beads of sweat rolling down his skin trying to cool him down, but only seemingly made things worse for him.

"Logan," you called out, finally having enough of watching your boyfriend suffer. "Logan, you have to wake up, it's not real."

There was no verbal response, but instead, the sound of metal scraping against itself filled the room. Looking down to his hands, you saw the familiar claws of metal protrude from between his slightly bruised and bloodied knuckles, the discolouration soon faded as he began to heal himself. Gently, being careful not to scare him, you placed a hand down on top of his, trying again.

"Lo—"

Logan yelled out, gritting his teeth as his other hand swiped at you, the blades just nicking the skin of your lower jaw and upper neck, causing you to tense and suck in a deep breath as your body froze, your wide eyes glued to the headboard just above his head.

When he opened his eyes, his shallow breathing evened out and he groaned, turning his gaze to look at you, his expression dropped and the metallic blade soon found their way back between his knuckles, quickly disappearing from your peripheral vision. He sat up, feeling your frozen hand fall limb from his own as his shaky hands cupped your face as softly as he could.

"Baby, I'm—"

"You were having a nightmare," you interrupted with a forced voice, still not looking at him.

"I know, I know, and I'm sorry that I hurt you," he admitted, examining the three lines across your skin as best as he could in the dark room. "I'm sorry," he mumbled, taking note that it wasn't bleeding too much, it was as if you hand three long paper cuts.

"I didn't want to scare you, I just wanted you to wake up," you ignored what he said, still in a state of shock. "I didn't want to scare you," you repeated in a hushed whisper.

"I know, thank you," he spoke quietly, pressing kisses to your skin, still holding your face in his calloused hands.

"I just wanted to help."

"You did, baby, you did," he responded, still pressing kisses along your jaw.

He pulled away when he felt warm tears drip onto his hands, he looked at you and saw small pools of salty water gather in your eyes, finally looking at him. Logan frowned, furrowing his eyebrows together before he pulled you close to his body, feeling your hands grip onto him tightly, your nails digging into his back slightly. His left hand rubbed your back soothingly while his right hand was placed on the back of your head, keeping you close.

"I'm so sorry."

"I should be the one comforting you, Logan, you were the one who had a nightmare," you told him, bringing yourself back to realisation.

"Not right now, it's my turn." He pressed another kiss to the side of your head, closing his eyes, thankful that it wasn't any worse, that he didn't swipe any closer to your skin, because he knew that if he did, he wouldn't be cradling you in comfort, but cradling you for the last time.