Keith had snuck into James' room and was currently sleeping in his arms enveloped in warmth from head to toe. He was dreaming of something sweet and innocent like curiously exploring outside the Garrison with freedom coursing through his veins.
The adventurous dream started to twist. The sky became an ominous black, no stars or moon in sight, leaving him blind in sight. He turned cold. The wind began to blow angrily that it made him stumble around. He reached behind his back to grab the blade he always had equipped on him, but he found nothing.
He found himself reaching his hands out blindly to feel a wall. He turned. Another wall. There were four. He was trapped in a box. It was suffocating. Then, a white light streamed into it, illuminating the box. He turned around to locate the source. Figures with distorted faces walked in and started to crowd around him, their faces devoid of all emotion.
His breath started to quicken. There was no way out. Every tiny space that he could possibly escape from was blocked. He was trapped. He reached behind his back again but was met with nothing but air and disappointment and fear.
From outside his mind, James was watching in horror. Keith had started to sweat and was whimpering desperate pleads. The black haired boy's breaths were quick and short. The space right above his collarbones were hollowing and filling with the rapid breaths.
James was stuck and confused and worried. He wasn't sure whether to wake him from the nightmare or wait for it to pass. Keith's nightmares were never this bad.
James very gently patted his cheek. "Keith, baby, please, wake up."
Tears began to pool at his eyes, blurring his vision. Keith wouldn't wake up, instead his eyebrows furrowed harder.
James had started to shake him gently.
In a blink of an eye, Keith woke and shot up, grabbing his blade, unsheathing it and holding the edge up to James' neck. James gulped, the tears started to drip down his cheeks.
Keith exhaled heavily as he stared at the blade that was close to James' neck. Keith dropped the blade. It fell with a heavy thump into the space between them. A sob jolted Keith's body sharply and loudly out his mouth.
"I'm sorry." Keith heaved. James was quick to pull him close. The knife laid between them. James shushed him as Keith cried onto his shoulder.
"You're okay, it's okay. You were just afraid. We're okay." James murmured. He felt Keith nod against him.
Keith shakily pulled away from his embrace and wiped his eyes and sniffled. Keith sighed out and put the blade under the pillow. He clenched the pillowcase in a tight fist.
James didn't ask if Keith wanted to talk about it. He knew he didn't want to. Keith never talked about nightmares that caused him extreme fear, to the point where violence came through.
James cupped Keith's cheek and rubbed the skin with his thumb. Keith leaned into his touch. Keith turned into his hand and kissed his palm in a silent, physical apology.
"I love you, it's okay." James smiled softly at him. Keith shut his eyes and inhaled deeply. James started to rub his cheek again.
"I love you too, I'm sorry."
