CH. TWENTY - FOUR
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How many times does she have to awake from nightmares? Because she for real lost count by now.

Except this isn't hers. This is Gally's nightmare. She can tell by the color change, and also by the things that happen in the nightmare. She doesn't get nightmares about being tied up and having a Griever released onto her.

Staring at the ceiling, she waits for him to wake up. As long as he doesn't, she'll keep hearing the sounds of his nightmare. Will keep seeing it when she closes her eyes.

Everything alright? She wonders after a while, but there's no reply. This whole thing is freaky in the first place, but in moments like this, it can be handy, too.

His unease and discomfort evolves. Spreads around her body and sends shivers down her spine, because it doesn't feel nice at all. It heaves her chest, as if bricks have fallen onto it, not allowing her to breathe. She can breathe, though. It just feels like she can't.

Does that mean Gally actually can't breathe?

She shakes the thought off. How weird it would be for her to show up in his hut at three AM. So she waits a little longer, knowing she won't have to try to fall asleep because it won't work. For a second, she does close her eyes.

The Griever is a big, slimy thing. The tail seems stolen from a scorpion, while its legs are spider-like, though they're made from metal and one of them carries a stinger. Spikes sit on the back, dreads of slime connecting them like dots.

It's awful, so she quickly opens her eyes again.

Gally? She sends the words to him. Would you stop having this nightmare? Freaks me out too, remember?

Another tug at her chest. Can't breathe.

Ah, great.

Joan slips into her shoes and starts making her way to his hut, since those words were an obvious call for help. She walks on a good pace, reaching his door fast and opening it with a rough movement.

Well, Gally wasn't lying.

He's sitting on his bed, one hand on his fast-moving chest as the other one fists the sheets, breaths unsteady and quick. Joan rushes over to him, unaware what to do, and sits down in front of him with some hesitation.

"Ever had this before?" She wonders. "Do I do something?"

Shrugging, he shakes his head. Takes a panicked look around.

"Hey, look at me." His breaths heave even more as he does so. "Uh, try to think of... of something that makes you happy," she ends up saying.

Gosh, how is she supposed to stop this?

"Or, eh, name the color of my hair," she stammers.

"How's that going to help?" He gasps, shaking his head over and over as his inhales only get faster.

She cups his face, slightly panicked too now. "Just keep looking at me. And then... um... hold your breath! I think that helps. Come on, do it."

"I'm suffocating," he inhales a few times, but it doesn't help, "so how will holding my breath help?"

Joan stops him from moving his head away again by pressing her hands against his warm cheeks even tighter. "Please just try to do it."

"I," a shaky breath, "I can't. Joan—"

"Oh, dammit." Her body moves too fast for her brain to catch up with, and she has her lips pressed against his before she knows it.

His breaths stop immediately, and so does her heartbeat. She did not just— but she did. She's holding his cheeks, basically forcing him to kiss her back, though he's not pulling away. And she can't tell if she's enjoying this or not because of the circumstances, but there for sure is a knot in her stomach, which is still there when she moves away.

"...did I hallucinate that?"

"Uh, well, perhaps just imagine you did so we can forget this ever happened."

Does she really want that? She doesn't know. He was having a panic attack! How else would she have stopped it?

A dozen questions to herself at once.

"If you say so," he replies.

Joan takes a few deep breaths. "At least tell me it worked."

"It did."

"Good."

An awkward silence follows.

However, her mind is kind of spinning so she barely notices him staring. Sure, she's began liking him over the time, and boys shipped them, but she never really viewed it like that. Neither does he feel like a friend, because it's not comparable to her and Camil or Newt or anyone. But she never considered kissing him, let alone being in love with him.

"Well," she starts. "If you're alright, then I think it's time for me to go back. Too early to get up. Hopefully we'll both catch some sleep."

He nods, slowly. "Yeah. Good night, then."

"Night."

❀

"Ikissedhim."

Camil nearly drops his food. "You did what?"

"Last night he was having a panic attack and the only way to stop it was making him hold his breath so I kissed him on the lips and now I don't know what to do," she says fast. So fast that she has to gasp for air after saying it.

He stares at her for a few good seconds, eyes wide and the chewed food in his mouth visible 'cause of the way it's dropped open. "Damn!"

"Yeah, damn," she murmurs. "I didn't mean to. And now I have no idea what to do."

"Well, you wouldn't have kissed him if you hated him. Do it again."

"Are you crazy?" She hisses. "No. I don't even know how to feel right now, Camil! I kissed him while I'm not even sure how much I like him and perhaps it didn't mean anything to him but it does mean something to me to just kiss a boy on the fucking lips!"

He stuffs his mouth full. "Well, tell him that," he recommends, a piece of chicken falling out.

"You're no help," Joan grumbles. "Most of the time, I can't even stand him. Sometimes he's great company and sometimes I get butterflies, but I seriously don't know what to think."

"Then forget about it and just see in a few weeks, when you do know what you think."

"Easier said than done." Running a hand through her hair, she sighs. "I bet everything will become all awkward now!"

"Also," he says, ignoring her words, "did you have sex?"

"What?"

"What?" Camil shrugs. "During work, y'all entered your hut and came back with red faces. Your shirt was half on!"

"He gave me a massage," she groans. "Oh, Camil. I might die."

"Dramatic."

"You just don't understand. I need another girl here. Right fucking now. She'd know what to do."

"Let me just put on a tutu, tie my hair up, and get a high-pitched voice. Or just pretend I'm a girl."

"You know what? I'm going to Frypan!" She decides while jumping up.

"Does that mean you see Frypan as a girl?"

"It means he's supportive and a good advice giver. Also, he's Gally's best friend so he'll know what to do."

She rushes over to the kitchen only to stop right in front of the door.

"—and then she kissed me! And then she looked confused, and I think I did too 'cause hey, I got a girl kissing me, and then she left."

A gasp. "She left?"

"Yeah! But I mean, I needed some holy water so I don't think I minded. Now I'm just very confused. I don't shucking know how to feel, and I don't think she does either! But it was just a kiss to stop my panic attack, right? So perhaps it didn't mean anything at all."

"I think you should get out of my kitchen and stop eating all the bacon," an obvious slap on Gally's hand.

When the door unexpectedly opens, Gally freezes, and so does she. He stares down at her, she looks up. Clears her throat as she tries to pass him, except he moves the same way, and they're stuck trying to pass each other.

"Let's just..." With a cough, Gally lifts her up by the armpits, twists, and puts her down on the other side.

"Thanks," she murmurs, face completely red. Quickly, she closes the door and rushes over to Frypan. "Imma need your help."