Eliot Waugh (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
eliotwaugh) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
bigapplesauce2015-01-18 01:19 pm
eliotwaugh) wrote in bigapplesauce2015-01-18 01:19 pm
Entry tags:
you land badly, but you crash standing [closed]
[[ooc: tw in this one for trauma and dissociation, various anxiety attack symptoms, also vomiting. Yeah it's real fun.]]
He doesn't know how long it goes on, only that the sound of his phone's chime cuts through him like a knife and he feels like falling, jerking awake in bed. Sleep paralysis, he thinks. Funny how part of his brain can put a name to the sensation when the rest of him is just shaking and can only barely register that he's awake, and alive, somehow.
Eliot kicks his way out of the sheets, clinging and cold and damp with sweat. It's dark, too dark, he needs to turn a light on but he feels fragile and too weak to reach the lamp. His hands are shaking too much to start an illumination spell and all he manages is a faint glow about his fingertips. He tries to get out of bed and slides slowly to the floor, boneless and shuddering.
Phone. The phone woke him. He fumbles on the bedside table and it takes him a moment to parse words and try to get his hands to work enough to reply to Johnny. He wants to explain, to apologize but how can he? How can he even begin to make sense of that, how can Johnny be okay when Eliot saw, the Beast made him watch--
The roiling wave of nausea hits him as soon as he thinks about it, the afterimage burned in his mind, and he scrambles to the bathroom. Afterwards he turns the faucet on the sink all the way and leaves it running. It's a nice sound, a normal sound, safe white noise to drown the memory of the dream. Eliot curls up on the floor, resting his head on mercifully cold tile, and tries to breathe.
His pulse is still fluttering and he feels very distant from himself as he finds the phone again, tries to apologize but it's insufficient. Eliot does manage to turn the light on before he pulls the comforter off the bed and huddles on the floor with the weight of it wrapped around him like armor.
He doesn't know how long it goes on, only that the sound of his phone's chime cuts through him like a knife and he feels like falling, jerking awake in bed. Sleep paralysis, he thinks. Funny how part of his brain can put a name to the sensation when the rest of him is just shaking and can only barely register that he's awake, and alive, somehow.
Eliot kicks his way out of the sheets, clinging and cold and damp with sweat. It's dark, too dark, he needs to turn a light on but he feels fragile and too weak to reach the lamp. His hands are shaking too much to start an illumination spell and all he manages is a faint glow about his fingertips. He tries to get out of bed and slides slowly to the floor, boneless and shuddering.
Phone. The phone woke him. He fumbles on the bedside table and it takes him a moment to parse words and try to get his hands to work enough to reply to Johnny. He wants to explain, to apologize but how can he? How can he even begin to make sense of that, how can Johnny be okay when Eliot saw, the Beast made him watch--
The roiling wave of nausea hits him as soon as he thinks about it, the afterimage burned in his mind, and he scrambles to the bathroom. Afterwards he turns the faucet on the sink all the way and leaves it running. It's a nice sound, a normal sound, safe white noise to drown the memory of the dream. Eliot curls up on the floor, resting his head on mercifully cold tile, and tries to breathe.
His pulse is still fluttering and he feels very distant from himself as he finds the phone again, tries to apologize but it's insufficient. Eliot does manage to turn the light on before he pulls the comforter off the bed and huddles on the floor with the weight of it wrapped around him like armor.
no subject
Eliot takes a few cautious sips of water to stall for time and try to gather thoughts into words.
"It's..." he begins, and stops almost immediately to frown at the glass. "No one really knows what it is, but it's a thing, it happened back when I was still in school. Showed up one day in a classroom, just out of nowhere. A girl died." He gestures vaguely at Johnny, not wanting to look directly at him. "It was...it was bad, and it didn't even happen to me, my friend Quentin was there but I just heard about it later, I don't know why it would show up now, here..."
He doesn't want to think about it. He doesn't want to think about that thing bleeding into this world.
no subject
"Well, it didn't show up here," he says softly. "You had a bad dream. I know a thing or two about those. Trust me."
He knows too much, as well, about dragging your monsters around with you. God, he hopes Eliot never suffers a similar fate at the hand of Johnny's nightmares. Hopes with all his heart.
"I'm sorry," he says after a moment. "I'll, um, I'll stay here as long as you need me."
He doesn't exactly what to be around Gabe right now anyway.