A dim light flickered overhead, casting irregular, long shadows across the worn wooden table. A tattered dining mat covered the uneven surface, swirled with dull colors and a suspicious red stain on one corner. Splayed across the table were discarded and empty glass bottles, packs of cigarette's and old, greasy playing cards. The stench of alcohol stung his nose, tobacco smoke choking his lungs as Killian blinked through the unpleasant wafting fog. His heart hammered in his chest as he heard raucous laughter, ringing in his ears as if it were bouncing through a long tunnel.
A large, violent hand clapped onto Killian's shoulder, gripping him painfully. He dared not move, staring at the table cloth beneath him, clenching his hands on his knees. Digging his nails into his palms, Killian could feel them starting to bite through the flesh. A familiar voice raised the hairs on the back of his neck and arms, chilling the blood in his veins. Now, he dared not breathe. "What the hell are you doing here?!" They drawled. Killian's hands clenched even tighter. He was like a rabbit, cornered by wolves--prey.
Fear. Fear was the only thing he felt. Killian could feel his whole body shaking, every instinct screaming at him to run. Fight, get away—scream, do anything. Anything to get him out of that place. Jerking himself away from the man's iron grip wasn't an effortless task. Straining as hard as he could, Killian managed to rip his shoulder away from the man's harsh hand and stumbled to the floor. His leg, surprisingly, wasn't wounded anymore.
Scrambling onto his two feet, Killian bolted to any direction away from the table, suspended in darkness. A sudden bright light flickered on, illuminating the bar around him. Shoving his way past faceless patrons, Killian glanced over his shoulder to see the man slowly getting up, gun in hand. A bullet shattered a beer bottle right next to his hand on the bar. Without wasting another second, Killian slammed his way out of the back doors, coming to a stop. A chain link fence appeared right outside of the doorway, blocking any direction he could imagine.
Gripping onto the links and shoving his feet between the small spaces, Killian scaled the harsh metal wires and jumped over, landing with his feet hitting the ground. Police sirens swirled blue and red colors throughout the gloomy street. Flashes of gold badges and proper uniforms sent fear striking through his chest like lightning. Skirting into a dark alleyway, Killian heaved for breath. The only thing he could hear now as everything faded into the background was the heavy beating of his own heart.
Closing his eyes tight, Killian pressed his hands over his ears, tangling his fingers into his curly hair. Taking in a few desperate and deep breaths, he waited until everything suddenly stopped. The noise was gone, everything was gone. Just silence—a soft flapping of wings and birds chirping. Slowly peeling his eyes open again, Killian relaxed. A bright green meadow in a park sprawled in front of him, filled with white, thorn less roses. Moths fluttered through the grasses, and there he saw Jasper, sitting in the midst of white flower petals. A single monarch butterfly rested on his finger, and Killian made a start to head over.
Suddenly the grasses stiffened and died, but the white roses still remained. Birds had gone silent, the moths tucked in between the stems and the air became eerily still. Almost as if the world was holding its breath for something. Jasper stood, shaking the butterfly away from his hand. It fell to the ground and dissipated into ash. "Jasper?" Killian's voice was harsh, his throat parched, as if he hadn't had any water in days. "What's going on?"
Crossing the field towards Jasper, Killian stopped just shy of a few feet. It looked like Jasper, but something was off. It wasn't him. Jasper would never look at him with such cold, harsh disdain. His nose wrinkled into disgust, his eyes flashing irritably. A sharp popping sound split through the silent air. A dull burning sensation spread out through Killian's body, radiating from his shoulder. Wincing, it took him a few moments until he realized he'd been shot. Fast footsteps approached behind him, and Killian turned just in time to see a larger man grab him by the throat and shove a knife through his stomach.
As soon as the knife was gone, Killian stumbled to the ground. "Jasper," scarlet red dripped from Killian's lips. He could taste the sharp iron-y tang of blood. "Help me..." Were the only words he could manage. His arms grew weak and shaky, collapsing beneath him. Killian lay on the ground, panting and frantically heaving for air. No matter how many breaths he took, he still couldn't seem to get enough. All he could see with blurring vision was the red bloodstains on the white roses.
"Why would I help anybody like you?" Jasper said softly. His voice was deceptively gentle, a cold and condescending undertone beneath it.
"W-what?"
The man walked over and knelt beside him, "Why would I help anybody like you?" He repeated bluntly. "You're dirty. Tainted."
Killian could barely swallow back the tears behind his eyes, the breath caught in his throat. This time he couldn't speak. He could only think. I thought you loved me.
Despite only thinking, Jasper seemed to have heard every word he said. "Nobody could ever love you. Not after everything you've done. Not after what other people have done." With that, Killian's vision began to blur, until he was left in nothing but a black and empty void.
❖ ❖ ❖
"Jasper!" Killian jolted awake, heaving in a deep, sharp breath. The sudden intake of oxygen made him cough and splutter. Struggling to sit up, he could feel the agonizing pain in his leg, but still managed to press himself against the headboard of the bed. Gripping the bed sheets in his hands, Killian could feel his eyes stinging with tears. The scent of blood began to gradually fade away.
Met with the darkness of the room, Killian could only stare into the black void and hope the other man was there. With his heart slamming against his ribcage, Killian couldn't help but wonder if it would burst out of his chest. He could feel a cold sweat on his forehead and a heavy lump in his throat. His grip on the bed was weak from his shaking arms.
To Killian's relief, Jasper had already been awake. He was sitting in an armchair in the corner of the room beside the vanity, one leg propped up on his other knee and a book opened up in his hands. Immediately, his blue eyes shot from skimming the pages to looking at Killian. "What's wrong?" He said, standing up and walking over. It looked like Jasper had managed to fall asleep, but also struggled—he must have been reading to tire himself out again. Jasper's shirt lay on the floor, his bare chest and chiselers muscles clearly outlined by the moonlight filtered through the window. Killian could see the dozens of scars laced across Jasper's abdomen, chest and arms. His hair tuft was tousled and tangled up, exhaustion crinkled at the corners of his eyes. He was clearly tired and yet, he was immediately ready to come to Killian's aid.
As Jasper reached the side of the bed, he sat down and reached out. Killian closed his eyes and winced, bracing for any sort of pain that might accompany another person's touch. It was almost as if he could feel Jasper's hesitation for a few seconds, but then he finally set his hand on Killian's cheek. Killian could feel Jasper's calloused palm, his warm touch. It was delicate, barely grazing across his skin. "Bad dream." Killian managed to peel his eyes away from Jasper long enough to stare down at the bed sheets and assess his surroundings.
The sheets were tangled up around his legs. It was nowhere close to morning yet. Jasper paused, and Killian felt the gentle graze of the back of the other man's hand on his forehead. "You're burning up," He said softly, brows narrowed with concern. "I should have noticed before. I'll make you some chamomile tea and have a look at your leg, yea?"
Only on impulse Killian snapped, "I can do it myself." He immediately regretted it. Judging by Jasper's soft sigh, he could tell too.
"Well you could," Jasper said, "But then I would be a bad..." He trailed off for a few moments and hesitantly said, "Friend, for not helping." When Jasper talked quietly as to not wake anybody up, Killian could hear the powerful and comforting, deep rumble in his voice.
Over the past few weeks, Killian's emotions had been up and down like a roller coaster when it came to Jasper. In his dream, he'd known already that he would have never treated him like that. Jasper had only ever been patient and gentle. The twinge of frustration and disappointment when Jasper had said the word 'friend' definitely couldn't be a coincidence. That thought in his dream echoed in his mind as well. I thought you loved me.
If you knew the things I've done, you would hate me. Killian thought to himself, watching helplessly as Jasper pressed a gentle kiss on his forehead. Even when he left to go downstairs, Killian could still feel the lingering warmth of his lips. He couldn't help but wonder what it would feel like to have that feeling on his own lips, too. As he thought more about it, he began to gradually realize that it wasn't just a thought. It was a want. Despite every part of him that loved Jasper though, there was always an even louder part that warned Killian of the inevitable heartbreak and pain.
Why did he have to be different? Why couldn't he be normal, just like every other man in the group--besides Jasper. Why did Killian have to like other men? Life was so, so much harder than it had to be. The constant questioning of his own wants, desires and emotions. The fear that people would find out he wasn't exactly like them. Everything in Killian's life had been a wreck, so much so that the world as it stood was less chaotic than the one that came before it. Painful, lonely, difficult. Then to add being gay on top of all of it, it was almost too much to handle. The only person he could think to ask for advice was Jasper, but that would only give away things he wasn't willing to talk about just yet. Why does everything have to be so damn complicated?
Jasper returned to the room surprisingly fast. He held one mug in his hand and a freshly cleaned bandage under his arm. Killian watched closely as Jasper moved, specifically, his toned muscles. He didn't know somebody could be so muscly. He didn't know somebody could be so attractive. Now that he'd come to terms with his emotions towards Jasper, he wasn't exactly sure just how ready he was--it was too much to process at once. But that didn't mean he couldn't admire Jasper from a distance, right? Jasper sat down on the bed again, handing the mug silently to Killian and gently untangling his injured leg from the bedsheets. His touch was warm, almost painfully delicate.
"Was it especially confusing or muddled?" Jasper asked. Killian narrowed his brows, a frown tugging at his lips. Shaking his head with a small chuckle Jasper hastily reiterated, "Your dream, I mean?" As he tilted his head to the side, a few strands of his hair tuft fell in front of his eyes. "You know, anything unusual?"
Not knowing exactly what Jasper meant by unusual Killian carefully replied, "Well...I've had the same nightmares over again before. Mostly those are the ones I have. But this one...I can't remember it well anymore."
"Well the longer you're awake the harder it is to remember," Jasper reminded Killian. "I'm surprised you can still think of what happened in the least. I never remember any of my dreams, not really. Just vague flashes that are forgotten in a few minutes."
"This one was hard to process," Killian admitted, staring down at the tea he held in his hands. He didn't normally talk about how things made him feel. That wasn't the sort of thing anybody had taught him to do. If he had in the past, it was usually disregarded. Did Jasper really want to hear about it? Killian supposed that he wouldn't have asked if he didn't. "It was strange and confusing, really frightening I think..." He tried to concentrate and remember. There was an inkling of grief, a sadness he recognized. "And betrayal, maybe. Those are the only two things I felt." He shook his head, "I can't remember anything else."
Humming under his breath for a few short seconds Jasper finally said, "It could have been a fever dream then. But I've never heard anybody pinpoint betrayal as an emotion before. Interesting." The last parts of Jasper's sentence sounded more like a few passing comments that actual observation, which relieved Killian. He didn't like people diving into his emotions all too much. That was why he was angry all of the time, he knew. To keep people away, to stop them from analyzing him. Despite his determination not be figured out, Jasper seemed determined to, much to his annoyance. But if anybody were to ever figure him out, Killian would want it to be Jasper.
A sharp pain in his leg brought out a muffled cry, much to Killian's dismay. Jasper had moved it to the side, to get a better look at it. Killian turned his head immediately, not wanting to see how bad the wound was. Cohen had said there was rotting skin on the surface of it the day they'd arrived back at the house four days ago. That had been the most terrifying moment Killian had felt in a long, long time. He'd wondered whether he would be turned into a biter or not, like Chris had feared. Luckily for him, it seemed like he was still alive and--other than his leg--well. "I'm sorry Boy Scout," Jasper murmured, running a hand idly through Killian's hair. "I know it hurts. Drink your tea, you're still burning up. Maybe it'll distract you too."
Muttering a reluctant agreement, Killian took a small sip of the sickly sweet liquid. He wasn't exactly sure how he'd felt about it when he first tried it, but eventually he had gotten used to the almost silky texture and the warmth that accompanied it. He winced and closed his eyes tight, wrinkling his nose with disgust as Jasper unwrapped the soiled bandage from his leg and moved it aside carefully. "You're not grossed out by it?" Killian mumbled.
Giving Killian a pointed look, Jasper moved his idle hand to help him wrap the wound back up with the cleaned bandage. "Boy Scout, I've seen much, much worse than this. Trust me." Sometimes, Killian would rather not remember the horrors Jasper might have experienced in the military. Killian himself wasn't exactly squeamish, but when he was the subject of the wound, he tended to feel more queasy. Jasper hadn't even winced at the sight of any wound they'd seen, not even the gruesome and gory corpses shuffling around.
By the time Jasper was finished wrapping up Killian's leg, he had drank all of the chamomile tea and completely emptied the mug. His stomach felt comfortably warm and full, bringing on a sudden bought of exhaustion. Jasper pressed another soft kiss to his forehead, which Killian finally had the courage to lean into. He tilted his chin up, not expecting Jasper's lips to be so close to his own as he did. Killian's breath shuddered as he met Jasper's eyes. A sudden, ravenous heat seared the space around the two, crackling like electricity. Killian half expected to see repulsion in the other man's gaze, for no other reason than his own paranoia. But Jasper's smile was soft, tender and welcoming. Sucking in a deep breath, Killian turned his face away, immediately breaking the strained tension between them. "I'm sorry," He said immediately. The urge not to disappoint Jasper was almost compelling enough to make him move closer.
"Don't be." Killian blinked, looking up at Jasper. His eyes widened a small bit, his heart pitter-pattering in his chest. Even if he was getting enough oxygen, Killian felt as if he couldn't breathe, like the air had been knocked out of him.
"What?" Killian finally managed to squeak. "But-"
Quickly, Jasper interrupted him before he could continue. "Never feel sorry for turning away, Killian." Killian was once again surprised by how serious--although still kind--Jasper's tone had become. "You don't owe me anything." Before he could say another word, Jasper pressed a fragile kiss to his forehead, his lips barely brushing against his skin. Although barely touching, Killian could still feel the warmth lingering. "Only when you're ready, if at all."
Nodding, Killian headbutted Jasper's shoulder for comfort. Normally, he might feel awkward in such a situation. But with Jasper, there was only comforting patience. Why the other man wasn't frustrated, Killian couldn't understand--possibly never. Why was he so willing to back away when no other person had before? Whatever the reason, Killian knew that no matter the circumstance, he was safe around Jasper. "Okay." He said softly.
Silent for a few more heartbeats, Killian took the time to indulge in Jasper's warmth. With a deep breath, he let Jasper's familiar scent overwhelm him. After a while, Killian reluctantly moved away. "Will you stay awake until I fall asleep?" He asked quietly. "In case something happens?"
Without skipping a beat Jasper said, "Of course." Killian settled down in the bed, resting his head on the pillow. As he drifted off to sleep, Jasper's scent still lingered. I'm safe. He thought silently, as a wave of exhaustion washed over him and he slowly faded back into unconsciousness.