Red, White & Royal Blue Stories

• Nightmares • Henry § Alex •

𝒉𝒆𝒍𝒍𝒐
• ———— •

Henry woke up with a start.

Swaddled with thick blankets and two strong warm arms curled loosely around his waist he felt trapped. Sweat clung to his skin and his chest caved as a long expel of air slipped past his lips.

He blinked rapidly, forcing the urge to fall right back asleep away as his brain managed to convince him for a brief moment, he and Alex weren't alone. That there was something sinister in the shadows of their bedroom.

However, after sitting up, clinging onto the sheets below him and gazing across the dark corners for a few long, spine-tingling minutes, he managed to reach the conclusion they were both perfectly fine, and he had overreacted.

He closed his eyes, sighing.

Memories of the nightmare had already faded, he could picture bits and pieces, general gory, horrid things the mind could come up with, reminiscent of a few horror tales he had watched in the past. Nothing overwhelmingly terrifying, enough to force him to click on the bedside lamp and melt into the plush headboard.

His head tipped back, gazing at the ceiling quietly. Nightmares were an odd evolution of the mind - he couldn't begin to think why they would occur. He knew nightmares were often the result of increased stress or poor mental health, and while the youth shelters do take up a lot of his time, he wouldn't consider himself a stressed out person.

Since he and Alex had settled down in their brownstone, his health has improved too. He supposes the only thing he could do was chalk this up to (annoying) brain activity. After all, dreams never really meant anything to him.

He turned off the light and laid down, rolling onto his side and gazing across Alex's face.

He looked peaceful. His worried lines from law school smoothed out, his soft lips parted as small breaths escaped him. His lashes laid against his brown cheeks and his hair curled deliciously over his forehead.

He lifted a hand, gently trailing a finger across his jaw, smiling.

Alex was beautiful. He was incredible. Funny. Outstandingly intelligent yet overwhelmingly stupid at the same time.

He leaned forward and kissed the bridge of his nose.

He was everything Henry adored. Even over a year into their relationship he was still surprised it even formed in the first place. The moment Alex said he'd leave after he came barging in, calling him an 'obtuse fucking asshole', Henry thought it was over - but as soon as he punctuated it with 'as soon as you tell me to leave', somehow he knew, he knew he'd never truly lose Alex.

Not that he wanted to then, especially not now. He loved him. It was almost painful at times. When they weren't together, he was thinking about him. When they were together, he was thinking about everything they could do together.

When they were cuddled up in bed, their alarm clock glaring two thirty am, dark shadows casted over them, Henry was thinking how lucky he was.

And how much he wanted him awake.

It was jolting, the sudden and abrupt realisation he wanted Alex awake, right now , nightmares weren't frequent but the few times he's had them he's never needed to wake Alex up.

But something painful contracted his chest and he was notified to the horrid, laboured breathing barely bringing oxygen to his lungs. Panic attack. He was having a panic attack. How had he not realised?

"Alex" he gasped, clutching his shoulder, propping himself up on his elbow. "Alex, love- wake up" he begged, screwing his eyes shut as he ran a poor breathing technique through his head. In for seven, in for seven... he barely managed three seconds each time, and he couldn't hold the air for they ripped his lips open and expelled themselves as if his lungs were objecting them.