My eyes flew open, and my body jolted awake.

The room was a dimly lit haze of darkness and light, and a palpable sense of dread held me captive in its unseen, iron grasp. My shirt was soaked with cold sweat, my breathing came in short, shallow intakes. I caught a glimpse of movement in the darkness to my right. Primal fear overtook my senses as a slim silhouette rose from the crumpled blankets in a slow, deliberate motion. Long, black hair cascaded from its coarse confines, reflecting the scattered moonlight with soft confidence. Adrenaline coursed through my body, igniting a powerful fight or flight instinct. My muscles tensed as I involuntarily gripped the blanket around me, and my breathing quickened. As if responding to my unrest, the silky strands moved closer, and a cool hand emerged from the darkness to comfort my trembling spirit. A familiar scent of peaches washed over me, and waves of solace flooded my senses, extinguishing my worries. My eyes refocused on the shadow in front of me, and I struggled to put together its features.

Soft, black hair.

Cool, reassuring touch.

The scent of peaches.

Peaches.

I fell back into my pillow, groaning in annoyance as realization finally set in. My head cleared as I involuntarily covered my face. A soft giggle rang like sweet chimes, echoing in the small room. I peeked through my fingers at the source of the sound, locking eyes with the swirling, brown pupils of my dearest friend. On her face, she wore her signature, devilish smile, although I could see concern slipping through the playfulness of her grin.

“You had another nightmare, didn’t you?”

Her tone suggested it was more of a statement than a question, so I nodded in acquiesce. She shifted around, allowing the moonlight to reveal her rich, brown eyes, swirling with affection and intelligence. Moving closer, she pressed herself into me, staving off the haunting recollection with her warmth.

I had been having these night terrors for several years now, and they only seemed to be getting worse. At first, they only happened once a month, so I thought nothing of it. She was the first of us to start worrying. She was always the worrier. I had assured her it was just work stress, and I promised to take a few days off. Knowing how much I loved what I did, she was doubtful, to say the least, but it seemed to ease her mind for a while. It wasn’t until the nightmares began getting more intense and more frequent did her concerns resurface, and with them, my own.

Months.

Weeks.

Days.

The time between successive attacks shrank considerably. Now, I’m lucky to sleep peacefully two nights in a row. I glanced at her again, the concern and affection in her eyes gleaming with a light that rivaled stars. But behind that glow, there was a piece of her that was wearing out. No one else saw it, but she couldn’t fool me. I knew her too well to not notice, and that small fragment of reality hidden in her eyes filled me with both pride and sadness.

She was doing everything she could and more.

“You worry too much, you know that?”

I broke the silence, still physically shaking from the newest scion in my collection of madness-inducing nights. I could never remember what happened in these dreams, no matter how many times they plagued me. Granted, I was doing the best I could to deal with them at night, but the dark shadows under my eyes refused to recognize my efforts. 

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“True, but one of us has to, and you already have too much on your plate.”

Her witty retort forced a smile to my lips. She rested her head against my shoulder, giggling softly at my reaction. I closed my eyes as the lovely aroma of fruit seeped into my soul, soothing my mind. I remember when she first discovered the effect peaches had on me. When my nightmares began, she tried as many things she could to help me fight it off. Therapy, dieting, exercise; none of it had any effect on my sleepless nights. In addition, she started picking up extra shifts at her clinic to help balance out my declining health, which left very little time for us to spend together. I imagine that took a huge toll on her as well. I remember her getting into another argument with her parents. Her relationship with them had taken a turn for the worst when they found out she and I were engaged, and time didn’t exactly put out the embers. My best guess is they never liked the fact their daughter was marrying someone like me, but I can’t really blame them. After all, self-published author isn’t exactly the most stable of professions.

A few weeks into our disjointed schedules, I had a particularly nasty nightmare that earned me a trip to the ER when I shattered a lamp with my bare arm. The next day, she went on an impromptu shopping spree for food and medical supplies and, out of desperation or panic, brought home a bag of peaches. I don’t know what she was thinking, since she is highly allergic to the fruit, but for some unknown reason, its smell calmed me down considerably. We stumbled across a few other minor methods of dealing with my nightmarish aftermaths, but nothing worked nearly as well as peaches. Despite my protests, she firmly decided to find a way to make use of this strange effect. Of course, we couldn’t have peaches lying around the house, for her safety, so instead, she started using peach scented shampoo. I have to admit, it worked like a charm. Four years have gone by, and she still refuses to change it, even though I know she must be sick of smelling like peaches all the time.

“I’m here. I always will be.”

Her voice cut through my recollection, bringing me back to the present. She propped herself up on her elbow and ran her fingers through my hair gently, speaking with soft conviction.

“I know you like to fight your own battles, so I won’t ask you to rely on me all the time.”

I opened my eyes to meet hers, which were gazing at me with a quiet look that betrayed a zealous devotion. She glanced at my left arm, her relaxed posture suddenly stiffening. It was too dark for her to see anything, but I knew she was looking at my scars. The chocolate swirls of her pupils melted together into a tangible pool, which shimmered slightly as she whispered, concern falling from her lips.

“Just...don’t be afraid to ask every once and a while, okay?”

Her gaze fell, and a single tear rolled down her cheek.

“I need you.”

My body moved on its own, sitting up and embracing her upon hearing those words. I sensed her shock for a brief moment before she returned the gesture with equal fervor. My mind was overwhelmed with a mix of shame and gratitude. The playful sparks in her eyes, the devious brilliance of her smile, the sound of her voice when she read my latest works: just her in general. 

This girl was everything to me, and I wanted her to be happy.

A surge of emotion welled in my stomach, threatening to drown me in its staggering depths. Almost immediately, she pulled away from me, and before I could think or say anything else, I felt her lips silence my own as she laced her arms around my neck. We must have fallen back onto the pillows, because her hair, rich with the scent of peaches, suddenly surrounded me, a curtain to shield me from my thoughts. A simple act, yes, but it spoke words of solace and appreciation that a voice could not. A few moments passed, and she leaned away, her arms still cradling my weary body, her lips saying nothing more. She smiled in deep understanding, and her earthen eyes shone with profound reassurance. To this day, I still don’t know where she found the strength to possess such infinite compassion. Her arms tightened around me, pulling me closer once again. This time, I buried my head into her chest, allowing her to cut free one of the many weights on my soul.

“Hold me tight, and let me know you’re here. Let me feel safe and wanted.”

I felt her nod slightly, hugging me even tighter as I fought vainly against my emotions. Once more, a veil of peaches blanketed my sorrows, giving me the strength to ease my tears into her embrace. The room was quiet, save for the sound of soft sobbing and silent streams of moonlight, shining with empathy.

“That's all I want right now.”

And it’s all I’ve ever wanted.