andreil + nightmares? been thinkng about them a lottt lately
We're Okay (It Wasn't Real) | 08/07 (Read on AO3)
CW / Nightmares, referenced CSA & Rape, Drake Mention
Andrew Minyard was afraid of the dark.
He’d never told anyone—lest they use the information against him—but it was true. The dark was where monsters came out to play, lurking in corners and under bed sheets. The dark hid the horrors of life under its cloak. Nobody could stop what they couldn’t see.
For that reason, sleep had always been difficult. Sometimes, Andrew would stare at the ceiling for hours, hoping unconsciousness would take him. He would lay awake until the sun began to stream through the curtains and then get up just to do it all over again.
Neil had changed things. Against all odds, having Neil in his bed was a positive thing. He felt settled with him close. Even on dark days, Neil being within reach was a cure, rather than a cause. After all, the dark was not so scary when someone he trusted was there to protect him from the monsters.
Today had been a bad day. He felt like bugs were crawling under his skin, every touch akin to putting his hand on a hot stovetop. He knew the night would be difficult. He hadn’t intended to sleep at all, but Neil’s soft voice reading a novel had lulled him to a gentle rest.
It didn’t take long for the nightmares to hit.
There were hands on him. Strong, muscular, disembodied hands holding him down against the bed. No matter how many times he peeled them off or pushed them away, more would come. He couldn’t escape. He couldn’t run. He couldn’t find it in himself to scream.
He knew it was a nightmare, yet it felt so real. He was seven, so small and weak, so naive to the horrors that the dark could bring. His cries for help were left unanswered, no matter how many times he begged or pleaded for them to just stop.
He willed himself to wake, but he couldn’t. He was paralysed, stuck in a never-ending cycle of unwanted touch. He could feel the hands pulling at his skin, tearing chunks of him away until the bone was exposed. Until he was exposed. Exposed and open for all to see like an exhibit.
If he closed his eyes, he could pretend it wasn’t real. He could pretend that he was numb to it all, that it didn’t affect him, that it didn’t leave scars on his already marked skin. If he zoned out, maybe they would lose interest. Maybe, he could forget—not that he ever had been able to.
And then he heard Neil cry.
Andrew’s eyes shot open, searching. It didn’t take more than a second to find him, and Andrew felt his stomach lurch in response.
Neil was pinned down to the bed by Drake, his head bloody and expression dazed. His face was pressed into the pillow, hands gripping the headboard with a white knuckle grip. No matter how much Andrew screamed and begged, nothing changed. Nothing ever would.
He was a failure. He had failed to protect Neil again. He had let his past hurt the one thing he loved more than anything else, and it wasn’t fair.
His voice felt a thousand miles away.
“Andrew,” Neil said again.
Andrew woke with a start, sweat dripping down his forehead, and promptly threw up over the side of the bed into the trash can. His whole body was trembling, the sheets sticky against his skin. He threw them off and stumbled into the bathroom, needing to be out of bed.
He splashed cold water on his face with a gasp, before aggressively brushing his teeth.
“Hey,” Neil whispered from the doorway as if trying not to startle a wild animal.
Considerate as usual, Neil didn’t approach. He didn’t ask questions nor push Andrew for answers. He stood and waited for Andrew to finish brushing his teeth, before stepping aside to let him through.
Although he knew it had been a nightmare, Andrew still had to check. He had to check. He lifted his hand towards Neil’s head, waiting for consent before checking him over for injuries. His head wasn’t cracked open, and there was no blood on his pyjamas.
