Pessimist

18 - Troubles

I woke up, gasping for air as Dean held me in his arms. Pushing him away, I dashed to the bathroom and heaved out the remaining food from the previous night. Dean had come around, rubbing my back and holding my hair up so it wouldn't get caught in the vomit.

Pulling back, I wiped away the stray tears and flushed the toilet, the acidic aftertaste prominent in my mouth.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to throw up-"

"Sophia, I don't care about that. I care about you and your health."

I stood up, walking over to the sink and began to rinse my mouth clean. Dean stared intently at me through the mirror, making me grow nervous as I spit out the toothpaste and put it back in its respective holder.

"You did tell me I was allowed to throw up on you." I tried to joke but immediately stopped once I saw his expression, concern and sadness apparent.

"Sophia-"

"You aren't mad at me, are you?" I asked quietly.

"Of course not, Sweetheart." He replied, a forced smile.

I took his word for it and noted the time, seeing it was already basically time to get up. After tying back my hair in a ponytail, I walked over to the kitchen to make myself some food. Last night I had accidently fallen asleep in Dean's bed. We were watching a movie in his room since I was finding it difficult to sleep.

I hated that Devon still affected me, even in my dreams. I felt like I had moved past him in all ways except mentally. He was still engraved in my head like a virus, infecting my happiness like a bug.

"Sophia?"

I hummed, busying myself with pouring coffee.

When Dean didn't respond I looked up, finding his arms crossed over his chest with a concerned look in his eyes. I already knew what he was going to say and in all honesty, combining this with him still not telling me much about what was going on with him was making me miserable.

"Do you wanna talk about what just happened?"

"Nope." I popped two waffles in the toaster, setting the timer appropriately. Sitting down with my coffee in hand, I blew tentative breaths over the top before I started sipping on it without a bother. Dean came around and sat next to me, sighing in slight frustration.

"Sophia."

This time I sighed, looking up at him as I set my mug down with more aggression than needed. "What, Dean? What the fuck do you want me to say? That I get nightmares? You already knew that."

"You threw up," He says quietly.

"Okay, and?"

"And? Soph, who throws up after a nightmare?" He looked at me in disbelief, his arms were still crossed but his stance was crestfallen, unsure.

"It isn't a big deal, Dean."

"Yes it is, Sophia."

The toaster popped up with my waffles, but my hunger subsided. Both due to the nightmare and the topic of this conversation. I felt like puking again but held it down, knowing I would only dry heave over the toilet bowl and Dean would use it as an excuse to continue the conversation. I gingerly picked up both waffles, putting them on a plate in front of me despite having no desire to eat them.

"It isn't," I insisted. "It'll pass."

"I wanted to talk to you about something..."

"What?"

"I think...I think you should try therapy."

I slid the plate away from myself, standing up immediately.