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Darkness was all around him, enveloping him, strangling him. The young man gasped, trying to find breath, but the air was stale and damp. He raised his arms, feeling around for his surroundings, but they stopped inches above him.
“No,” he muttered, “no, no, no, no. Not again!”
He slammed his fist on the top of the coffin, beating and scratching at it. After an eternity, it gave way. He winced at the sudden influx of moldy dirt. It poured down on him, making its way into his mouth and nose. It was suffocating.
The young man screamed as something crawled across the dirt and over his face. He thrashed, trying to get it away. But his movement only caused more soil to fall, this round damper. The smell of decay filled his nostrils, and he choked.
“No!” he cried when he coughed enough matter out. “Help! Someone! Please!”
But no one came, and he was left to fend for himself. To swat at the multiplying insects. The maggots that inched their way across his skin. Spiders that delicately skittered their way through his hair. The worms that wriggled their way into his clothes. Funeral Clothes.
“Help!” he cried again, “Bruce! Bruce please! I’m not dead! Help me, please!”
He broke down, twisting over in the enclosed space, shakingly sifting through his hair to remove the arachnids. The more he tried, however, the more fell out. There was a sea on them, wafting over his body, fighting for space with the centipedes.
He felt nauseous, and tried to throw up. But there was nothing in his stomach. Hadn’t been for a while.
He dry heaved once. Twice. Three times. There was no relief.
The sickly sweet scent became stronger, taking over his nostrils, wafting through the small dark box. He gagged again, but stopped when something ran over his foot.
He froze when the thing let out a small chitter.
Oh no.
Please no.
Oh god.
A rat.
“Bruce!” the young man renewed his efforts, kicking at the rodent and scratching, yearning for relief, for escape. “Dick! Bruce! Please! Someone!”
The decaying wood of the coffin finally broke wide enough for him to stick a hand through. And so he did, reaching out blindly, pulling more matter down upon him, trying to get out.
Trying, and trying, and trying.
Trying and failing.
He gasped one last time, the hopelessness sinking in. He wasn’t going to escape. No one was going to save him. He was alone.
He let out a choked sob.
*****
Jason gasped, sitting up in bed.
“Hey, Jaylad,” he flinched at the hand on his arm, before turning to find Roy sitting up in their bed to calm him down anymore.
“Jason?” He turned again to find Kory at his other side, her eyes glowing and hair floating unnaturally.
Jason took a deep, shaky breath. “I’m fine,” he said, trying to convince himself more than his lovers. “It was nothing. Just a nightmare.”
Roy frowned, and made eye contact with Koriand’r. “We both know that’s not true. It’s never ‘just a nightmare’.”
Kory nodded at him - seemingly understanding his silent message - before gently taking Jason’s arm and laying him back down on the bed.
“You were calling out for Bruce,” Roy said quietly, “Do you want me to call him?”
Jason blinked, taking a few seconds to understand. “N-no. Maybe in the morning.”
“Would you like to read for comfort?” Kory asked, gazing intently at Jason.
“No,” Jason answered, breathing slowly, “You guys are fine.”
Roy smiled softly. “Do you need a hug?”
Jason considered. “That … might be nice?”
Kory grinned and wrapped her arms around him, quickly joined in by Roy. “You’re alright, Jay,” the latter said. “You’re safe.”
They stayed like that for a while, before Jason had calmed enough to breathe normally. Or some semblance of it, at least.
“Think you can sleep, now?” Roy asked softly.
Jason closed his eyes. “Yeah, yeah let’s do that.”
“You do not not need to if you are not ready, Jason.” Kory said, pressing a kiss to his forehead.
“No,” he said just as softly, “I think I can now. Thank you.”
And so they settled down, spooning in the darkness - Kory was the big spoon, obviously - but this darkness was different. It was warm. Comforting. Jason sighed as Kory’s hair floated above them, and the arms of his partners wrapped around him. It was soft, and warm. Jason’s favorite kind of night.
It was safe.