(⚠️WARNING⚠️: brief mentions of blood and depiction of a panic attack)
In which Jack O'Callahan jogs his girlfriend's memory by revealing one of his deepest, darkest secrets
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Alphabet Soup
Jack's sheets are rustling. His face is scrunched, his brows knitted, and his forehead creased as he tosses and turns in bed. There was something about this night that was unnaturally cold. The man who usually slept with a sheet down around his waist had pulled his sheet and blanket up to his chin. They are the very things now tied around his ankles that cause him to thrash so. Just something else for his brain to take and use to torture him in his dream.
He is in the midst of a terrible dream - his head tossing back and forth as whimpers escape his lips. At unmeasurable intervals, with ferver, his legs will kick, further catching within the tucks and folds of his sheets.
Jack is reliving the exact moments his Y/n's life flashed before his eyes and he almost lost her forever. He is in the throes of haunting as his brain mercilessly recalls the moments that brought him to the situation he's in now. Where his girl - his Y/n - doesn't even remember him.
Except in this dystopian dream world, she doesn't recover. She passes with a curse of his name and leaves him basking in heartache and shame. And as he cries out in his dream, begging for her to come back to him, to forgive him for what he's done, he shoots up in bed.
He breathes heavily, sweat beading on his forehead and across his chest. He looks around, confused about his whereabouts from the powerful feeling of reality his dream had. As he realizes where he is and what's actually happened, he lets his stomach collapse and leans back against his headboard, staring up at a dark ceiling - feeling completely and utterly alone.
"Bad dream?" Jack jumps, looking around in the darkness for who could have said that. His eyes adjust to the small sliver of sunlight peeking through the curtains and he finds himself looking at the silhouette of a girl he once knew.
Jack nods slowly, guilt weighing heavily on his racing heart. It isn't often that he has nightmares - which surprises him considering he has no shortage of memories to cause them. But when he does have one, it's bad. Just before her accident, they'd begun to get worse, but she was always there to set everything right.
He runs a hand through slightly matted hair, causing it to stand up on end. If she remembered him, she'd be beside him. She would have woken him up as soon as she realized and held his shaking body close once he was awake. She would have rocked ever so slowly back and forth, whispering soft nothings in his ear. She would have drawn letters on his bare back and have him guess what letter it was. In no time at all, he'd be smiling and laughing, his nightmare forgotten.
Then she'd kiss him softly, her hands threading through his hair to mat it back. She'd lay him down, nuzzle against him, and they'd talk until he fell back asleep. She was always so patient with him. She never got angry when he woke her up and she'd always forgive him if one of his flailing arms caught her pretty skin.
