Our Little Secret ||Historical Lams Oneshots||

Nightmares

this was gonna be some cute fluffy shit but my mind wants to be angsty today and corrupted it

We're walking, hand in hand. I don't know where we are, I just know he's beside me. And, truly, that's all that matters. I'm not looking at his face when he tips my chin up. I only feel the soft, welcome pleasure of his lips touching mine. And suddenly, it breaks, and I hear a choked gasp. I finally focus on his face, only to see it sheet-white and the light draining swiftly from his eyes.

I wake, breathing heavily and my head pounding. I sit up and clench my eyes shut, trying to erase the image from my head. I fail to steady my quick breaths.

My sudden upright movement must have awoken John, for I feel him rest his hand on my back. He rubs circles around it slowly and I lean into him, eyes still closed, but knowing he'll not let me fall.

"What is it, Alexander?" he asks softly. "What troubles you?"

My incessant pants begin to decelerate as he holds me. "Just a nightmare." I assure him.

John lays down, me still in his arms, and hugs me tightly to his chest. "Nothing will hurt you, dear boy," he whispers. "Not as long as I live."

And I believe him.

~~~

He stands ahead of me, his blond hair whipping about his face in the slight breeze. I try to take a step towards him, but I can't move. He smiles, almost teasingly. I suddenly hear footsteps rapidly approaching me from behind; it sounds like an army. I turn my head around and yell, but it's silent. Rushing towards me are faceless people, with only a mouth frozen in an eternal scream, as if they're running from something. I hear the crashing of waves and the "whoosh" of strong winds. I look back at the man in front of me, still with that smile, beckoning me to come to him. And still I can't.

I woke up gasping. I whip my head from side to side as my eyes grow used to the darkness, searching for John.

He's already awake, it seems, and the feeling of his arms encircling me pulls me back down to reality. "You were fidgeting," he told me as I started to relax. "I tried to wake you but you kept turning away."

His fingers toy with my hair, something he knows calms me. I breathe deeply and fall against him, turning so I'm facing him. "Thank you." I murmur, burying my face into the thin fabric of his nightshirt.

"For what?" John asks, still brushing through my curls with his fingertips.

I shrug, which draws a quiet chuckle from him. "For being here."

"I'm always going to be here."

~~~

Water. That's all I can see. Except, I'm not looking at it, I'm in it. Slowly sinking, my hand hopelessly reaching up towards the few, filtered rays of sunlight. My chest tightens as I foolishly try to take a breath, filling my lungs with water. My vision starts to go black around the edges as I slip away. I hear the muffled sound of someone breaking the surface, and I see a silhouette through my pinprick of sight. A strong arm wraps around my waist and pulls me up. I cannot see my savior's face. It's taking too long. I feel the life just about to leave my body when my head comes above the water. I take a huge inhale and cough out water, drops spewing from my mouth. I look around to try and spot my hero, but I'm alone in the expanse of endless water. The only thing breaking the peaceful scene is the red that blossoms in the water beside me. It grows and grows, but I'm not bleeding.

I don't remember waking up, just the beads of sweat on my forehead as I did. Cold winter air drifting in through the cabin windows shocks me as I sit up. I glance at the bed pushed up beside mine. John is still asleep.

So I take matters into my own hands. I lay down beside him, my back against him and, with a trembling reach, grasp his hand and move it in front of my chest, situating myself in his arms.

He shifts beside me, and I panic for a moment, fearing I woke him. But he gives no sign of being awake besides pulling me ever closer to him, our bodies fitting each other perfectly.

"You're here." I whisper, my eyes fluttering shut.

And I swear I hear a phrase weaved in the breath that passes my ear.

"I'm here."

~~~

We're kissing. That's all I can say. It's blissful, a familiar warmth bursting in my chest, like it does every time I find his mouth on mine. I tug him closer to me, wanting more. The warmth spreads, as if his lips themselves were hot, transferring their heat into me. I push my tongue into his mouth and taste something metallic. I break off in confusion. He looks at me with an expression of shock as his eyes widen and blood spills out of his open mouth. My eyes travel down and pause at the bloodied patch on his chest. A bullet wound. He stares, horrified, at my hands. I glance down at them and gasp in terror. I'm holding the gun. I drop it just as he crumples to the ground. I try to catch him, but I can't. He's dead.

I snap bolt upright, my breaths coming in jagged gasps. I flit my gaze to the sleeping figure beside me, and I know I won't be comforted as I always have this time.

Because this time, it was my wife lying next to me.

Because this time, my John wasn't here.

And he never will be again.

it's national make a friend day so you go out there and make yourself a fucking friend or i'm going to steal your kneecaps