Neverending Nightmares (MilesxWaylon fic)

Neverending Nightmares Part2

"Fuck...why do I even try?" Waylon grumbled, throwing his blanket off of his body and sitting up.

He looked over at the clock that rested on the nightstand. 3:25 a.m., it read. Seeing the time made Waylon fall back down onto the bed in defeat.

"What's the point?" He thought. "I might as well stop sleeping all together if I'm just going to keep waking up in the middle of the night..."

It was the same nightmare that had been waking him up every night. He mostly had this one nightmare in particular ever since he escaped that horrid place of an asylum. It usually would go as followed;

The Groom, Eddie Gluskin, had him strapped down to a table and would ramble on about fantasies of having the perfect 1950s-like family with him. He'd treat Park like his "perfect pet wife" and when he'd see Waylon wasn't on board with him, he'd proceed to turn on him, calling him every misogynistic name out there and then sliced off his genitals.

It was crazy that he was still afraid of the man. Waylon knew well that Eddie was gone now (hell, he had even watched the man die), but he felt like Eddie was still around. Haunting him. Tormenting him. Punishing him for not helping him out sooner and for not humoring him in his sick little game of house.

It was all driving him absolutely nuts.

Staring up at the chipped ceiling, Waylon heard something clattering around in the kitchen and became confused. Who'd be messing around in the kitchen at this hour? Plus, the only two people living in this small apartment was him and Miles. Miles...

"Oh shit...Miles!"

Immediately, Waylon sprang up out of his bed and hurried out of the room as fast as he could with his recovering leg (long story about that). Anyone else would just shrug this kind of thing off and assume that their roommate  was just getting a late night snack, but Waylon wasn't anyone else. He knew Miles. It was the middle of the night and he was up mostly likely because of a nightmare. Usually he'd stay confined in his room or come into Waylon's to talk, but he didn't this time. Something was wrong.

Walking into the kitchen, Waylon noticed a very tired looking Miles standing in the middle of the room, holding a kitchen knife in his hand loosely. A sudden urge pushed Waylon forward and he stormed up to him, snatching the knife out of his hand.

"Miles, what the FUCK are you doing?!" Park yelled, holding the knife as far away from him as possible.

Miles looked up at Waylon with stunned expression, obviously taken back by how quickly things just happened.

"Jesus Christ, Way...you scared the fuck out of me," he replied blandly.

"I scared you? You scared ME!" Waylon shouted, hastily putting the knife back into the drawer. "Why the HELL did you have that knife in your hand? Don't you dare lie to me this time, Upshur!"

"Chill the fuck out, I wasn't going to hurt myself with it, if that's what you were thinking!" Miles snapped.

"Oh really? What were you doing with it then?"

Miles didn't say a thing as he moved over a few steps from Waylon. At first, Park thought he caught him red-handed, but when he moved, he saw that there was a pickle jar on the counter behind him.

Miles smiled a bit apon seeing the look on Waylon's face. "I had a nightmare and couldn't sleep so...I decided to get up and cut some pickle slices. That was...until you came in."

Whoops.

"Oh jeez...I'm sorry, Miles. I must've sounded like a total jackass to you," Waylon said with a sheepish tone to his voice.