Page 83 of In This Iron Ground
The weeks seemed to just slip past.
Damien and Hakan wouldn’t have sex every time they were together by any means, but it happened with surprising regularity. Damien stayed strict with his no-cuddling, no-sleeping rule. Although his nightmares had diminished since the start of college, he knew that stress, sleeping in unfamiliar places, and sleeping next to somebody else tended to have them flare up again. The third had been learnt in an embarrassing fashion when he’d almost knocked a guy out with a flailing arm. It was not something he wanted to repeat again, even with someone he knew as well as Hakan.
Hakan picked up on Damien’s boundaries quickly and respected them with ease. Damien knew there was some instinct inside Hakan asking for Damien to stay close after sex, but he was grateful for Hakan’s simple acquiescence nonetheless.
All of Hakan’s precautions, however, couldn’t hold up to simple bad luck.
Damien and Hakan always watched TV in the living room. Not only because that’s where the TV actually was, but Damien also didn’t want to stink up Hakan’s bed too consistently in case Hakan ever wanted to bring a shifter home. On that particular day, however, the couch was wet with a spilt drink and both of them had gone to Hakan’s room, stretching on his bed as they watched something on Hakan’s laptop.
With the stress of school, the scent of Hakan, the warmth, Damien should have seen it coming. He slipped into sleep easily, without any conscious thought.
One moment Damien was safe, and the next he was being pressed down, his limbs tied, filled with terror and helplessness. He felt everything tense, waiting for the collapse, before his muscles jolted.
“No, no,” he cried as he fought against the ties.
The ropes undid themselves suddenly and he jerked forwards, knocking a lamp over. He fell from the bed, falling hard on his hands and knees but scrambling up a moment later, needing to regain control. He wrapped his arms around his shaking body.
Everything was pounding, rushing, trembling out of his grasp.
“Damien.” The voice made Damien cry out in surprise. He stumbled forwards, away from the sound, before turning towards it.
Hakan.
Hakan, with his eyes wide, hair dishevelled, the impression of a pillow on his face. The sight hurt. The intimacy of the sight compared to the malignant broiling inside only served to make the divide between him and the world starker.
Damien knew that it was ridiculous to judge himself for having nightmares. But in the vulnerability of that moment something whispered,This is why.
Hakan shifted on the bed with the obvious intention of moving towards Damien, but Damien held up a hand, warding him off. Hakan stopped immediately.
“I, I’m just, I’m just going to go to the bathroom for a second,” Damien stuttered before fleeing the room.
He shut the bathroom door behind him, leaving it unlocked. He knew that Hakan would respect his wish for space.
Damien closed his eyes and bent in half, pressing his forehead to the cool lip of the ceramic sink. He took five trembling, choked breaths. Tried to concentrate on the feeling of the air stuttering in and out. He imagined the moonlight pooling in his expanding chest. He took another five breaths.
I am the earth. I am the wind. I am the moonlight.
He could almost hear Mia’s voice. He took another five breaths. These came in deeper.
I’m okay. That was in the past. I’m in Hakan’s apartment.
The idea of Hakan waiting for him made the panic flare again, and he struggled to breathe. Breathe. To just breathe.
He didn’t know how long he stayed there, imagining moonlight and earth, but it was long enough to calm the shaking down.
He straightened up, avoiding his reflection. He washed his hands, his face, drying them slowly. He took another deep breath. He took off his sweaty shirt, wiping the remnants of the cold sweat off before leaving it in Hakan’s hamper.
He opened the bathroom door, standing just within the threshold. It was times like these that his old desire to evaporate into the air, only for a little while, reappeared.
He took another deep breath and walked slowly out. He had been hoping to see Hakan in the living room or kitchen so he could avoid returning to the scene of the crime, but the rooms were empty and silent.
He followed the beam of light painted on the dark hallway floor towards Hakan’s room. He tried to keep his heartbeat level as he made it to the open door, hesitating only a moment before stepping inside.
Hakan was sitting at the edge of the bed. The lamp was back in its place. The sheets made. Finally, when Damien collected himself enough to look at Hakan’s face, his expression was nothing like Damien expected. He had anticipated seeing concern, worry, apprehension. Instead, there was a fierce anger in his eyes.
An instinctual jolt went through him, but it only lasted a second. Not even the disorienting effect of a nightmare could convince him that Hakan would be angry at Damien for being afraid of his own past.
“I’d kill them,” Hakan said softly. His fists clenched on his knees. “I’d fucking kill them.”
