I woke up screaming. Tao was there, his eyes were large with worry, trying to soothe me as always. I screamed louder and threw myself away from him, but the blankets tangled around my limbs. I ended up in a shuddering heap at the end of the bed, screaming and screaming until my throat was raw.

Tao knelt quietly nearby. I could feel the heat of his presence, so close at my side, but he never touched me. “Jongin,” he said urgently. “Jongin, it was a dream. It’s not real.”

“You killed me,” I cried, bringing my arms up to cover my face. “Tao, you killed me.”

“Oh God! No I did not!” His voice lashed out at me, and oddly enough it stabilized me so that when he said, “Look at me,” I was able to raise my head and do so. His face was bright with emotions, powerful and terrifying. His gaze caught me and held me motionless, breathless and trembling. “You know I care for you. I would never hurt you Jongin.”

The roughness to his voice now hinted desperation. “Remember, I didn’t harm you, even when I thought doing so was the only way to save your life. Because you did not want me to change you, and I would never touch you without your permission. Never. If you believe nothing else about me, In-ah, believe that.”

“I want to,” I managed to say between great sobbing and gasps. “I want to, but I—”

“Shhhh.” His arms came around me, warm and strong. They drew me against his chest and into a gentle embrace. “Shh, now. It’s just a dream.”

I clung to him, shuddering. His hands moved lightly over my back and I found myself wishing that he would never stop, that he would never release me. My fear was insignificant in the face of my overwhelming need for his comfort.

We held each other and he rocked me back and forth, whispering softly against my hair soothing words in Chinese.

The remainder of my restoration was markedly less awkward as Tao and I learned to become friends again. I knew he wanted something more—I saw the yearning in his eyes when he looked at me—but it was more than I could give. I saw, too, that he understood that, and he didn’t press the issue on me. I was stronger now, and if he tried, I would leave. I think he knew I would.

It was the same as when we first met. He tended to me, and I allowed his ministrations, and though I improved, I never got around asking him to leave, and so he stayed. But he never joined me in the bed, not even to sleep with our backs toward each other and our hands to ourselves.

Sometimes when I woke, I see him sitting at the edge of the bed, watching me, and I had expected it to make me uneasy, but instead it comforted me to know he was standing guard, even when I slept. That he was there, protecting me.

I had more nightmares, but I tried not to talk about them. Sometimes Tao appeared in them.

Sometimes he rescued me, and other times he killed me, but I was able to deal with my dreams better on my own than I was at first. Tao would give me his comfort if I asked for it, but my pride would choke me if I did.

We played games to pass the times of my recovery. It was an odd thing; when he first proposed a game of cards, I was still angry and bitter, and agreed only because the thought of defeating him gave me a fierce sense of pleasure. But as the days passed and my anger faded, our games become less competitive and more congenial, almost friendly. We played