Early Mornings and Late Nights Under Overcast Sky (Jensen/Jared RPS) -- 29/? (WIP)
Title: Early Mornings and Late Nights Under Overcast Sky
Characters/Pairing: Jensen Ackles / Jared Padalecki; Jensen Ackles / Luanne (OFC); stated Jared/Sandy; stated Jared/Rebecca (OFC) and stated Jared/Ryan (OMC)
POV: Jensen Ackles
Author's Notes: It’s fiction. That means it’s not real, folks. Jensen and Jared are real people. So is Eric Kripke. The show “Supernatural” is a real TV show on the WB11. If anything else in this is real, I wasn’t aware of it.
I'm not going to say when or if the next chapter will be posted...
I just now (after twenty-five chapters and nearly 60,000 words) admitted to even writing this. Yes, I am responsible for this epic debacle!
But really, it took on a mind/life of it's own... So... read at your own risk. I would enjoy feedback, but I'll understand if you don't want to start reading a WIP with no end in sight or in the works. I really have no idea what's coming next here.
Summary: Jared’s girl (Sandra) breaks up with him. Jensen tries to help. Things go (rapidly) downhill from there…then fester… then get better?
*Holds out handbasket if you'd like to join us. It's getting cozy in here*
Spoilers: Nothing to see here, folks...
-------------------------
Chapter Twenty-Nine: Conversations Pt. 1: Revelations
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Before there was Jensen/Jared, there was…
Word Count: 2,391
Chapter Twenty-Nine: Conversations Pt. 1: Revelations
Jared’s the first to notice that my hands are shaking.
We’ve finished eating, the dishes are in the dishwasher and I’ve put a load of wash in the washing machine. He’s taken his antibiotics, and another dose of the cough medication at my urging when he kept coughing-a wet hacking still-but I haven’t seen any more blood.
Now we’re sitting in the living room on the couch, in closer proximity than I’d have previously ever been comfortable with, working on advancing in the video game we started what seems weeks ago now but in reality has only been a couple days, and Jared pauses the game, motions towards my hands with his chin. “Dude. You’re shaking.”
I glance at him, but say nothing, then reach over to his controller and take the game off the ‘pause’ screen. He pauses it again. “You’re shaking.” He repeats, emphasizing the word. “Put down the controller.”
I drop the controller to the floor, and Jared takes my left hand, which only makes me start shaking worse-now my entire body is trembling-I can feel my muscles in my shoulders, my back, twitching and rippling beneath my shirt. My heart rate increases tenfold with the contact, and my breath hitches to keep up with my body’s increased need for oxygen.
“Jen.” Jared says quietly, dropping to his knees on the carpet in front of me and taking my other hand. My hands shake in his, cool and clammy against his dry warmth. “Jenny…” He tries again for my attention.
“Jenny…” The use of my nickname calms me, but not enough to keep my head and heart from pounding, my stomach from turning over and threatening to lose what was a very good breakfast. “Jenny, c’mon…”
I look at him, on his knees and staring up at me, hands gently stilling mine. His eyes are understanding and caring, I want to lose myself-my fear-in them. “I’m sorry, Jared…” I whisper, my voice uncertain.
“Don’t apologize.” He says quietly. “What can I do?”
There’s not much he can do aside from disappear that might help me right now, though I’m not cruel enough to tell him that, though admittedly at one point, I may have been. Looking at him now, plaintive and concerned, I can’t imagine of saying something so hurtful to him.
I turn my hands to squeeze his. “I’m okay.” I breathe heavily. A lie if I ever heard one, but there’s little I can do at this point except figure out how to deal with the attacks. Jared was right about the coffee… I have to cut that out of my diet until the likelihood of another attack is diminished, and should cut back overall… I have to sleep, but the nightmares keep me up, and I have to eat a little better than I have been, a little more regularly.
Eddie’s words about using the Xanax ring in my ears, but I ignore them. I don’t need more right now. What I need is to talk. About everything that’s going through my head that I can’t focus on… everything I think I might be feeling for-about-Jared… whether it’s wrong and whether it is or isn’t the question of whether I can handle it… if it’ll make me happy and if I really want it badly enough to try (to handle it).
“Jared.”
He looks at me hopefully, doesn’t say a word, but his hands shift in mine as his words from yesterday echo in my ears. “You do not get to have this conversation with my mother first… You don’t get to have this conversation with anyone before me.” … … “Not. Before. Me.”
And he’s right… if there’s anyone I should be talking to about how I (might… do?) feel, it’s him, and if there’s anyone I should be begging for forgiveness from for pain I haven’t yet caused, it’s him.
“Jared.” I repeat his name, more forcefully this time, hoping for a verbal response, not just a shake of his hands or a nod or a smile, as questioning and as caring as it might be.
“Talk to me.” He says helplessly, and if he weren’t holding my hands, I swear he would have held his palms up and shrugged with the words. “Please.”
“I…” I can’t say anything else. My mouth is filled with cotton, my stomach with lead. I have no words, and even if I did I don’t have the wherewithal to say them. “I can’t…” I manage. And I know I have to at least give him something, I can’t just leave it at ‘I can’t’ and let it go. He’ll press, and he’d be right to. “I… Jared… I… I just... I can’t… I know… I know… I sound like an idiot.”
He smiles. “Yeah. Yeah, you do.” He agrees, and he’s released my hands suddenly and is instead pushing at my shoulders, forcing me to lie back against the soft cushions of the sofa. “Rest, Jensen… you’re not making any sense right now… I’ll get you some water and some Xanax…”
“No! No Xanax…” I trail off.
“Jen… if it helps… Jen...” He looks as helpless as he sounds, and I almost want to take it just so he doesn’t look so unsettled, so nervous and upset. But I can’t.
“No.” I sigh, and throw an arm over my eyes. “Just…” I try again, after a deep breath that does little to heal my shredded nerves. “I know… you said… I couldn’t… shouldn’t… have this conversation with anyone… before you… but… Jared I don’t…” I take a breath, swallow hard, and the words seem to come easier. “I don’t even know what I’m thinking… I don’t know what I’m feeling and… talking to you before I have anything worked out…”
I’m rushing my words, and it’s a shock he understands them-understands me. His finger comes up to my mouth. “Shh… We’ll work it out together.”
“I can’t even think about it without panicking! I can’t think about it and you want me to talk about it? Work through it? WITH you???” I’m near screaming, without really meaning to. To my ears my voice still sounds dulled.
“Jenny! Jenny, please calm down…” His fingers flutter over my skin, one of his hands finds its way into my hair, threading through short, spiked locks, close to my scalp. His palm feels huge against my head. Huge and warm. And my eyes are wide and unseeing, my lips parted and my mouth open, I’m sucking in breath but I’m not getting any air. “Jen… shush… it’s okay…”
“Nothing is okay!” I’m going headlong into another panic attack and I don’t care. My heart is racing, I’m sweating… my stomach feels like it’s going to lose breakfast any minute. It still feels like I can’t breathe, or at least like I’m not getting enough air. My pulse is fast, my thoughts are clouded and my eyes blur-I’m not sure if its tears or just the panic making things swim in front of me. “Nothing… is… okay… I…” I reach for my head to hold it together to stop the pounding. It feels like my head is going to split apart, but I can’t touch it… “I’m having… feelings…” I choke on the word. “I… For you…and it’s wrong and it’s not right and it’s wrong…” And I’m rambling, and Jared’s fingers are warm against my lips, and his lips are dry and soothing against the sweat-slick of my hairline and forehead.
“Jenny…” He pets my hair. “Jenny… I’m going to get you some medicine, okay?” He’s pushing one hand against my chest, holding me down to the sofa as he stands up. “Just stay here… I’ll be right back.”
I’m still coherent enough for his words to register, and I know he’s going to get me Xanax. I’m also coherent enough to realize I probably need it. This isn’t getting any better, and if I want any more of this out, I’d better be flying. But I stop him from going anyway, a shaking hand wrapping around his wrist. “No… I… Jared it’s wrong and it’s wrong and I feel it anyway and I don’t know what it means but I’ll hurt you… I’ll hurt you and I never want that… never wanted that…” I lapse into senseless rambling that even I don’t understand, about hurting him and being sorry and I let my eyes close when I realize Jared’s no longer standing over me with his blue-green eyes staring down at me, worried like I’ve never seen before.
Pills-one or two or three, I can’t tell how many-press between my lips, it’s more Jared’s fingers I feel than the pills themselves, pushing into my mouth. His touch is fast becoming familiar, and his fingers linger longer than necessary and I dare kissing their tips as he pulls away, replacing the warmth of his fingertips with the cool, smooth rim of a glass. “Drink.” He orders, tilting the glass.
I swallow the pills, lean back against the pillows. I hear Jared replace the glass on the coffee table, feel him shift where he sits next to my hip on the sofa, his body pressing to mine, and instead of the contact being distracting or nerve-wracking, it’s calming-warm and gentle. His hand continues to move incessantly through my hair, smoothing, petting. When I bring my hands to cover my face, he pulls them away, settles them at my sides. “No…” He whispers. “No more hiding.”
I don’t open my eyes though.
I can hear him swallow. “So you have feelings for me…” He says with a nervous laugh.
I nod. “I’m sorry… I know… it’s wrong…”
“…don’t…” He whispers. “…please don’t… …don’t say that.” His fingers rest over my lips again, and I welcome the gentle pressure and warmth of them. “It’s not… not wrong…”
“How can you say that, Jared? I…”
“Men have feelings, Jen...” He shrugs as though trying to figure out what he can say as I open my eyes.
“This is different.” I murmur. The Xanax is working quickly. Or maybe it’s a combination of the Xanax and Jared’s hands, fingers carding through my hair and pressing on my mouth, and his soft voice that holds no judgment.
“How so?” He asks gently.
“It just is…” I trail off. “Jare… I’ll hurt you. I can’t…”
“Jensen… Jensen, just listen to me.” His hands are strong and sure on my shoulders, gripping them, and he gives me a less-than-gentle shake, making me look at him. “First of all… and please… just… listen. Just hear me. It is not wrong… I know I can’t convince you of that… that… that’s something you’ve got to work out on your own…”
I just nod. I know he’s right. “Jared...” I interrupt quietly. “I know… I know that… I just...” I’m scared. I wish I could just come out and say that, because I’m sure he’s been in the same position, or at least he’ll understand. I’m scared. I don’t know what I want, at least… not enough to admit it and go after it despite the consequences, whatever they may be… not enough to go with my heart rather than my mind.
He sighs and looks away for a minute before finding my eyes again with his. “Second… I am not asking you… to say anything… to do anything... Anything that happens… or doesn’t happen… will be your choice. And third… don’t keep saying you’re going to hurt me… you don’t know that…”
I nod miserably. “I do.”
“You don’t.” He repeats firmly. “You don’t know that. And if you keep saying it, it’ll be one of those self-fulfilling prophecies…” He finds my eyes again. “You won’t hurt me. You can’t. Unless I let you.”
“You’ll let me.” It’s not a question.
“Yes.”
Silence falls between us then, thick and heavy, somehow neither comfortable or uncomfortable, and I take a deep breath that fills my lungs, and when I finally let it out, the words “I’m scared…” come with it, a quiet, barely audible admission and as close as I think I’ve ever come to asking for understanding and patience. I repeat the words a moment later, feeling them on my lips and tasting them on my tongue, and they feel like a weight coming from my shoulders. “…I’m scared…”
“I know, Jenny.” He whispers, and his eyes close as his forehead comes to rest on mine, while his hand that was in my hair slides to the nape of my neck. “I know…” He breathes. “So am I.”
I bring my hand up to rest in his long, unkempt hair. My movements are slow and listless, my body feels heavy. I’m tired, but I’m afraid to sleep. Nightmares lurk on the edges of my consciousness even now, deep and dark things that crawl and slither like snakes; peek around corners and through tiny peepholes; poke at my mind and tear at my soul. “…mmm… sleepy…” I mumble. “…how many did you give me?”
“Just one… half of what it said to…” He lets go his hold on my neck, lets my support come from the pillow. He pulls a blanket over me when I shiver slightly. “You’ve taken a couple in the last few days… and I know you didn’t want to take any today, but… Jenny…”
“I know…” I breathe. I do. It’s like what Eddie said. I just don’t like taking them, and Jared’s right. I’ve taken a dose a day for the last three days now? Not going to kill me, and not going to keep the panic attacks from coming if I’m not caring for myself in other ways (which I’m not), and not going to make me loopy. To me it’s still a lot.
“Shhh… You’re just tired… sleep, Jensen.” Jared murmurs.
I’m afraid the nightmares will come.
“You’ll take your antibiotics?”
“Yes.” Short, sweet and to the point. He can probably tell I’m stalling, that I don’t want to go to sleep. “Rest, Jen...”
I murmur something about nightmares then, about not wanting to go to sleep, but his hands are reassuring against my shoulders and his breath is warm, his lips soft against my skin. “I’ll be here, Jenny… Sleep now.”
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Characters/Pairing: Jensen Ackles / Jared Padalecki; Jensen Ackles / Luanne (OFC); stated Jared/Sandy; stated Jared/Rebecca (OFC) and stated Jared/Ryan (OMC)
POV: Jensen Ackles
Author's Notes: It’s fiction. That means it’s not real, folks. Jensen and Jared are real people. So is Eric Kripke. The show “Supernatural” is a real TV show on the WB11. If anything else in this is real, I wasn’t aware of it.
I'm not going to say when or if the next chapter will be posted...
I just now (after twenty-five chapters and nearly 60,000 words) admitted to even writing this. Yes, I am responsible for this epic debacle!
But really, it took on a mind/life of it's own... So... read at your own risk. I would enjoy feedback, but I'll understand if you don't want to start reading a WIP with no end in sight or in the works. I really have no idea what's coming next here.
Summary: Jared’s girl (Sandra) breaks up with him. Jensen tries to help. Things go (rapidly) downhill from there…then fester… then get better?
*Holds out handbasket if you'd like to join us. It's getting cozy in here*
Spoilers: Nothing to see here, folks...
-------------------------
Chapter Twenty-Nine: Conversations Pt. 1: Revelations
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Before there was Jensen/Jared, there was…
Word Count: 2,391
Chapter Twenty-Nine: Conversations Pt. 1: Revelations
Jared’s the first to notice that my hands are shaking.
We’ve finished eating, the dishes are in the dishwasher and I’ve put a load of wash in the washing machine. He’s taken his antibiotics, and another dose of the cough medication at my urging when he kept coughing-a wet hacking still-but I haven’t seen any more blood.
Now we’re sitting in the living room on the couch, in closer proximity than I’d have previously ever been comfortable with, working on advancing in the video game we started what seems weeks ago now but in reality has only been a couple days, and Jared pauses the game, motions towards my hands with his chin. “Dude. You’re shaking.”
I glance at him, but say nothing, then reach over to his controller and take the game off the ‘pause’ screen. He pauses it again. “You’re shaking.” He repeats, emphasizing the word. “Put down the controller.”
I drop the controller to the floor, and Jared takes my left hand, which only makes me start shaking worse-now my entire body is trembling-I can feel my muscles in my shoulders, my back, twitching and rippling beneath my shirt. My heart rate increases tenfold with the contact, and my breath hitches to keep up with my body’s increased need for oxygen.
“Jen.” Jared says quietly, dropping to his knees on the carpet in front of me and taking my other hand. My hands shake in his, cool and clammy against his dry warmth. “Jenny…” He tries again for my attention.
“Jenny…” The use of my nickname calms me, but not enough to keep my head and heart from pounding, my stomach from turning over and threatening to lose what was a very good breakfast. “Jenny, c’mon…”
I look at him, on his knees and staring up at me, hands gently stilling mine. His eyes are understanding and caring, I want to lose myself-my fear-in them. “I’m sorry, Jared…” I whisper, my voice uncertain.
“Don’t apologize.” He says quietly. “What can I do?”
There’s not much he can do aside from disappear that might help me right now, though I’m not cruel enough to tell him that, though admittedly at one point, I may have been. Looking at him now, plaintive and concerned, I can’t imagine of saying something so hurtful to him.
I turn my hands to squeeze his. “I’m okay.” I breathe heavily. A lie if I ever heard one, but there’s little I can do at this point except figure out how to deal with the attacks. Jared was right about the coffee… I have to cut that out of my diet until the likelihood of another attack is diminished, and should cut back overall… I have to sleep, but the nightmares keep me up, and I have to eat a little better than I have been, a little more regularly.
Eddie’s words about using the Xanax ring in my ears, but I ignore them. I don’t need more right now. What I need is to talk. About everything that’s going through my head that I can’t focus on… everything I think I might be feeling for-about-Jared… whether it’s wrong and whether it is or isn’t the question of whether I can handle it… if it’ll make me happy and if I really want it badly enough to try (to handle it).
“Jared.”
He looks at me hopefully, doesn’t say a word, but his hands shift in mine as his words from yesterday echo in my ears. “You do not get to have this conversation with my mother first… You don’t get to have this conversation with anyone before me.” … … “Not. Before. Me.”
And he’s right… if there’s anyone I should be talking to about how I (might… do?) feel, it’s him, and if there’s anyone I should be begging for forgiveness from for pain I haven’t yet caused, it’s him.
“Jared.” I repeat his name, more forcefully this time, hoping for a verbal response, not just a shake of his hands or a nod or a smile, as questioning and as caring as it might be.
“Talk to me.” He says helplessly, and if he weren’t holding my hands, I swear he would have held his palms up and shrugged with the words. “Please.”
“I…” I can’t say anything else. My mouth is filled with cotton, my stomach with lead. I have no words, and even if I did I don’t have the wherewithal to say them. “I can’t…” I manage. And I know I have to at least give him something, I can’t just leave it at ‘I can’t’ and let it go. He’ll press, and he’d be right to. “I… Jared… I… I just... I can’t… I know… I know… I sound like an idiot.”
He smiles. “Yeah. Yeah, you do.” He agrees, and he’s released my hands suddenly and is instead pushing at my shoulders, forcing me to lie back against the soft cushions of the sofa. “Rest, Jensen… you’re not making any sense right now… I’ll get you some water and some Xanax…”
“No! No Xanax…” I trail off.
“Jen… if it helps… Jen...” He looks as helpless as he sounds, and I almost want to take it just so he doesn’t look so unsettled, so nervous and upset. But I can’t.
“No.” I sigh, and throw an arm over my eyes. “Just…” I try again, after a deep breath that does little to heal my shredded nerves. “I know… you said… I couldn’t… shouldn’t… have this conversation with anyone… before you… but… Jared I don’t…” I take a breath, swallow hard, and the words seem to come easier. “I don’t even know what I’m thinking… I don’t know what I’m feeling and… talking to you before I have anything worked out…”
I’m rushing my words, and it’s a shock he understands them-understands me. His finger comes up to my mouth. “Shh… We’ll work it out together.”
“I can’t even think about it without panicking! I can’t think about it and you want me to talk about it? Work through it? WITH you???” I’m near screaming, without really meaning to. To my ears my voice still sounds dulled.
“Jenny! Jenny, please calm down…” His fingers flutter over my skin, one of his hands finds its way into my hair, threading through short, spiked locks, close to my scalp. His palm feels huge against my head. Huge and warm. And my eyes are wide and unseeing, my lips parted and my mouth open, I’m sucking in breath but I’m not getting any air. “Jen… shush… it’s okay…”
“Nothing is okay!” I’m going headlong into another panic attack and I don’t care. My heart is racing, I’m sweating… my stomach feels like it’s going to lose breakfast any minute. It still feels like I can’t breathe, or at least like I’m not getting enough air. My pulse is fast, my thoughts are clouded and my eyes blur-I’m not sure if its tears or just the panic making things swim in front of me. “Nothing… is… okay… I…” I reach for my head to hold it together to stop the pounding. It feels like my head is going to split apart, but I can’t touch it… “I’m having… feelings…” I choke on the word. “I… For you…and it’s wrong and it’s not right and it’s wrong…” And I’m rambling, and Jared’s fingers are warm against my lips, and his lips are dry and soothing against the sweat-slick of my hairline and forehead.
“Jenny…” He pets my hair. “Jenny… I’m going to get you some medicine, okay?” He’s pushing one hand against my chest, holding me down to the sofa as he stands up. “Just stay here… I’ll be right back.”
I’m still coherent enough for his words to register, and I know he’s going to get me Xanax. I’m also coherent enough to realize I probably need it. This isn’t getting any better, and if I want any more of this out, I’d better be flying. But I stop him from going anyway, a shaking hand wrapping around his wrist. “No… I… Jared it’s wrong and it’s wrong and I feel it anyway and I don’t know what it means but I’ll hurt you… I’ll hurt you and I never want that… never wanted that…” I lapse into senseless rambling that even I don’t understand, about hurting him and being sorry and I let my eyes close when I realize Jared’s no longer standing over me with his blue-green eyes staring down at me, worried like I’ve never seen before.
Pills-one or two or three, I can’t tell how many-press between my lips, it’s more Jared’s fingers I feel than the pills themselves, pushing into my mouth. His touch is fast becoming familiar, and his fingers linger longer than necessary and I dare kissing their tips as he pulls away, replacing the warmth of his fingertips with the cool, smooth rim of a glass. “Drink.” He orders, tilting the glass.
I swallow the pills, lean back against the pillows. I hear Jared replace the glass on the coffee table, feel him shift where he sits next to my hip on the sofa, his body pressing to mine, and instead of the contact being distracting or nerve-wracking, it’s calming-warm and gentle. His hand continues to move incessantly through my hair, smoothing, petting. When I bring my hands to cover my face, he pulls them away, settles them at my sides. “No…” He whispers. “No more hiding.”
I don’t open my eyes though.
I can hear him swallow. “So you have feelings for me…” He says with a nervous laugh.
I nod. “I’m sorry… I know… it’s wrong…”
“…don’t…” He whispers. “…please don’t… …don’t say that.” His fingers rest over my lips again, and I welcome the gentle pressure and warmth of them. “It’s not… not wrong…”
“How can you say that, Jared? I…”
“Men have feelings, Jen...” He shrugs as though trying to figure out what he can say as I open my eyes.
“This is different.” I murmur. The Xanax is working quickly. Or maybe it’s a combination of the Xanax and Jared’s hands, fingers carding through my hair and pressing on my mouth, and his soft voice that holds no judgment.
“How so?” He asks gently.
“It just is…” I trail off. “Jare… I’ll hurt you. I can’t…”
“Jensen… Jensen, just listen to me.” His hands are strong and sure on my shoulders, gripping them, and he gives me a less-than-gentle shake, making me look at him. “First of all… and please… just… listen. Just hear me. It is not wrong… I know I can’t convince you of that… that… that’s something you’ve got to work out on your own…”
I just nod. I know he’s right. “Jared...” I interrupt quietly. “I know… I know that… I just...” I’m scared. I wish I could just come out and say that, because I’m sure he’s been in the same position, or at least he’ll understand. I’m scared. I don’t know what I want, at least… not enough to admit it and go after it despite the consequences, whatever they may be… not enough to go with my heart rather than my mind.
He sighs and looks away for a minute before finding my eyes again with his. “Second… I am not asking you… to say anything… to do anything... Anything that happens… or doesn’t happen… will be your choice. And third… don’t keep saying you’re going to hurt me… you don’t know that…”
I nod miserably. “I do.”
“You don’t.” He repeats firmly. “You don’t know that. And if you keep saying it, it’ll be one of those self-fulfilling prophecies…” He finds my eyes again. “You won’t hurt me. You can’t. Unless I let you.”
“You’ll let me.” It’s not a question.
“Yes.”
Silence falls between us then, thick and heavy, somehow neither comfortable or uncomfortable, and I take a deep breath that fills my lungs, and when I finally let it out, the words “I’m scared…” come with it, a quiet, barely audible admission and as close as I think I’ve ever come to asking for understanding and patience. I repeat the words a moment later, feeling them on my lips and tasting them on my tongue, and they feel like a weight coming from my shoulders. “…I’m scared…”
“I know, Jenny.” He whispers, and his eyes close as his forehead comes to rest on mine, while his hand that was in my hair slides to the nape of my neck. “I know…” He breathes. “So am I.”
I bring my hand up to rest in his long, unkempt hair. My movements are slow and listless, my body feels heavy. I’m tired, but I’m afraid to sleep. Nightmares lurk on the edges of my consciousness even now, deep and dark things that crawl and slither like snakes; peek around corners and through tiny peepholes; poke at my mind and tear at my soul. “…mmm… sleepy…” I mumble. “…how many did you give me?”
“Just one… half of what it said to…” He lets go his hold on my neck, lets my support come from the pillow. He pulls a blanket over me when I shiver slightly. “You’ve taken a couple in the last few days… and I know you didn’t want to take any today, but… Jenny…”
“I know…” I breathe. I do. It’s like what Eddie said. I just don’t like taking them, and Jared’s right. I’ve taken a dose a day for the last three days now? Not going to kill me, and not going to keep the panic attacks from coming if I’m not caring for myself in other ways (which I’m not), and not going to make me loopy. To me it’s still a lot.
“Shhh… You’re just tired… sleep, Jensen.” Jared murmurs.
I’m afraid the nightmares will come.
“You’ll take your antibiotics?”
“Yes.” Short, sweet and to the point. He can probably tell I’m stalling, that I don’t want to go to sleep. “Rest, Jen...”
I murmur something about nightmares then, about not wanting to go to sleep, but his hands are reassuring against my shoulders and his breath is warm, his lips soft against my skin. “I’ll be here, Jenny… Sleep now.”
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