Good Morning

Here for You

It's the smell of smoke that makes her realize that there are many things wrong. Her eyes open to a blurry view of a room and an orange sky. She can taste ash, and hear the roar of a flame that sounds like her name.

Nya!

She's trying to breathe, but the air isn't reaching her lungs and the smoke is only getting worse, clouding her vision and her mind. Her limbs are frozen.

Her body is shaking, but the heat is everywhere.

She can't think.

"Nya!"

It's the voice again, but the smoke is everywhere, and her mind is reeling, her heart is pounding and the fear is palpable and raw. She can't move.

"Nya, wake up!"

The world is tilting. She can't breathe.

" Nya!"

Her eyes snap open to an expanse of white. The panic is still there, but it's not as overwhelming, and the fire is gone.

"You were having a nightmare."

Her eyes shift. She's in a bed, and he's there. Jay. He's there, and it's not a dream. It's real.

"Sorry. I didn't mean to scare you," he tells her, and his smile is weak and forced. Lightning is arcing off his back, illuminating the room. He sucks in a deep breath and the lightning ceases, the artificial nightlight fading away as the room plunges back into darkness.

She wants to tell him it's not his fault, but she can't get her throat to cooperate. Her mouth is dry, and she can still taste smoke.

"Water?" he asks, and the pitcher is already in his hands.

She nods, and takes the cup from him gratefully. The water is cool, and soothes the scratchy feeling.

"Thank you," she murmurs.

"No problem," he replies, but his tone is off. It's not as lively or upbeat, and it worries her.

"How are you feeling?" she asks him.

"I should be the one asking you that," he responds, deflecting her question.

She shakes her head, and takes in his appearance. His hair is a mess, and his eyes are still hazy, like he just woke up not too long ago.

"I'm fine," she answers.

He opens his mouth, then closes it, like he can't decide what to say.

"Jay, are you okay?" she presses.

"You were crying," he blurts.

Her brow furrows, and she wipes her eyes with the back of her hand. "Was I?"

"Yeah," he answers.

"Oh," is all she can think to say.

They sit there in silence, neither of them quite sure what to say.

"Are... are you sure you're okay?" he asks her again.

"I'm fine," she insists.

He's clearly not convinced.

"It's not the first time," she explains, "I'm used to it."

"You're used to it?"

"It happens a lot."

"These nightmares?"

She nods.

He's silent for a moment, looking at her with concern.