Basket (C)Ace

Nightmares

TW: Death, blood, violence, vivid description of blood and wounds (twice), panic attacks, food triggers (not necessarily an eating disorder, but still might be triggering), Gabe (ew). As always, take care <33

Special thanks to a_written_simulacra for reading this chapter and providing so much helpful feedback. If you don't read her work--it's legitimately the best.

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Nolan wakes, hours after the attack at the school. Hours after pacing in the waiting room. Hours after sitting uselessly, motionlessly, just waiting for any news to come. Hours after scrubbing his hands clean of blood with trembling fingers. Hours after Gabe murmured in his ear over and over again, "if that boy dies, it's going to be your fault." When he does finally wake, it's with heavy eyelids and an intense grogginess.

For a long syrupy second, he can barely orient himself. As he forces his eyelids open, it's so dark he almost forgets which way is up and which way is down; it's just a void of nothingness for too many beats. He has to blink away the sleep from his brain before he even realizes he's lying on his back instead of the chair he definitely remembers falling asleep in. There's a chill, cold metal pressed against his back. At first, he thinks maybe it's his phone, but suddenly-suddenly he realizes that it's not a bed he's lying on, but some type of metal table. He tries to move, tries to orient himself to figure out where he is, but he-can't.

His limbs are too heavy. He can't seem to raise his arms or turn his head. He can't move his feet, or even so much as wiggle his toes. There's something heavy against his chest, constricting his breathing.

He can't move. He can't move!

Nolan struggles for control, his heart beating rapidly against his chest, but it's like his whole body is paralyzed. All he can do is blink up at the ceiling helplessly, the movement syrupy slow in and of itself.

"Help!" He tries to scream, to yell, but his voice is weak and his tongue is a tangled mess in his mouth. His lips are almost numb-he can barely form the words. Tears burn his eyes as terror floods his veins. Still, he tries once more to call out, "Help, please!"

He doesn't know how he got here-he doesn't even know where here is; all he knows is that he must've dozed off while waiting for the unnamed teen to wake up, and suddenly he's here.

"Liam! Corey? Theo! Please!" His voice breaks on the last word, his throat tightening as he realizes all he can do is try to scream out-his tongue and mouth not really on the same page as his brain, making the words a mess of unformed noises-for the very people he hurt. All he can do is hope that they'll come, despite having every reason not to. He squeezes his eyes shut as tears flood down his cheeks. "Please, please, please."

There are footsteps in the distance, coming closer.

His breath catches as hope swells in his chest. He doesn't bother to try and speak-to shout-but instead screams out as loud as he can muster.

But the cries die out on his tongue as the door opens and the light comes on.

He's... in the vet clinic, he realizes as the light illuminates the familiar surroundings. He's lying on the metal table he'd seen the young teen be placed on just mere hours before while Deaton worked to carefully remove the arrows.

It's Deaton who stands in the doorway, dressed in full surgical garb. He's got his lab coat, but also blue surgical gloves and a mask.

The man creeps closer, one foot in front of the other at a snail's pace. Nolan is stuck watching, helpless, a whimper escaping his lips.