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The first time Liam wakes up from the dream, he’s shaking. He doesn’t remember anything other than dust prickling his eyes, a sharp blue light and the rumble of the ground. Next thing he knows he’s in his room, sweaty and lost, his heart painfully hammering in his chest. And he smells like guilt. The smell so strong it forms a lump in his throat and makes his stomach turn. It's everywhere.
He knows the dream isn’t like the nightmares he’s used to have, because those ones he remembers. Maybe too clearly — he sees the Dread Doctors, feels the bones break in his arms when Berserkers catch them in their skeleton hands, feels himself fading into thin air when he’s touched by a Ghost Rider. And when he wakes up screaming, he turns on the light and it’s so clear he can almost see them closing up on him from the corner of his room.
The dream is nothing like it. He doesn’t see the threat. He doesn’t remember anything, and when he wakes up he’s scared, not of something but of himself and that makes it even more terrifying. Guilt crawls its way up his throat, settling in his mouth, making him taste his own misery.
At first he thinks he’s dreaming of losing Brett and Lori all over again, of losing so many people in a war none of them wanted to take part in, but then again, when he does dream about that, he knows. He knows all too well.
So the first time it happens, he gets up, his legs barely holding him, and he walks towards his bathroom. The next thing he knows he’s emptying his stomach, tears prickling his eyes threatening to fall down. He blinks them away angrily, he feels he doesn't deserve to cry.
And no one knows the next morning, no one knows. Liam wishes he didn’t either.
But a week passes, and the dream always comes back. Same sharp blue light, the ground shaking under his feet. And dust. So much dust he’s almost suffocating, so much dust he can’t see clear anyway. When he wakes up, he almost always throws up. Never falls back asleep. Barely eats in the morning.
Mason notices before his parents do. They’re long gone when he gets down to eat breakfast, a note always on the table wishing him a good day and a daily reminder they love him. They don’t hear him wake up during the night.
His best friend eyes him worriedly, and Liam ignores the stares. Acts like nothing’s wrong when he barely follows in class, acts like nothing’s up when his eyes get lost in the distance too many times a day, acts like he’s fine when he can’t keep up during Lacrosse.
They all know about the nightmares. They all know Liam had troubles sleeping after the war was over. And months later, too. But it had gotten better, and now it’s all coming back. They don't know yet.
Mason thinks it’s the nightmares again, the same old ones, that Liam will talk about it if he wishes to. So he just says that he’s here for him if he needs to talk, or anything, really, with a warm reassuring hand squeezing his shoulder. And Liam tries to smile at him, but it doesn’t reach his eyes.
The first time he remembers more than the usual dust and a blue spark of light, he wakes up shaking, his claws are out and digging into the flesh of his closed fists and he hears a scream, someone telling him to stop, Liam stop, you can’t do this. He remembers the tunnels and there’s dust everywhere he can’t see, can’t see who’s screaming, can’t understand what's he’s doing, can't stop it.
He doesn’t recognise the voice. In the dream he has a feeling he knew, but the second his eyes snap open and his shaky hand searches for the switch to turn the light on, it’s gone. He feels like the voice is the reason it feels so hard to breathe.
He unclenches his hands, looking at the sheets his claws have pierced through, looking at the fresh blood dripping along his palms. He gets up quickly, his vision black for a second, the sick feeling in his stomach taking him by the throat.
He barely makes it to the toilet to get rid of the parasite in his stomach, trembling hands tainting red the white material. He wishes he was ill, properly ill. It would be easier than trying to vomit the guilt. Guilt never truly disappears, even when he's empty. It's always what's left.
Then the dream becomes gradually worse, he wakes up screaming and his mother is at his side, tired and worried look on her face.
“Are you alright?” she asks, and all he can do is extends his arms out like he used to do when he was eight, and she holds him close, rocking him gently until he stops shaking.
He tries his best not to cry. But his body screams at him to do it, he feels exhausted, because he always feels the same. Scared. Guilty. Grieving, almost. He feels this impossible guilt, this impossible responsibility eating him inside, responsibility for something he doesn’t know he’s doing but can’t stop.
He doesn’t allow himself to cry.
Until one night he does.
He sees the sword. The one Kira used to open the ground up under Theo’s feet. Theo who deserved it, at the time.
He sees the sword, glowing in his shaky hands, the one who brought Theo back, Theo who is going to class with them, the one who always has his hand up in biology classes and always seems to be one step ahead of them.
He sees the sword, the dust and the tunnels. Then the pleads, again and again. Broken and desperate. Worse than Liam could remember, could ever imagine. Stop Liam stop. A stab in his own heart. What have I done, please.
The ground shakes under Liam’s feet, he feels it. He knows what's about to happen. It's about to open up. He isn't sure it isn't his chest being torn in two.
Liam!
He wakes up sobbing this time. He struggles to sit up, air barely in his lungs anymore, harshly coming in and out. He’s rocking back and forth, and he can’t feel anything but this indescribable pain, yet endless emptiness in his chest.
He barely recognises his own voice as he chants I’m sorry. I’m sorry. Sorry sorry sorry. It echoes in the night. He repeats it until his tears have dried.
The first time he wakes up in tears, his mother isn’t by his side. When he gets up to head to the bathroom in case he throws up again, he falls, and never finds the strength to get up again. He curls up on himself, the floor cold against his naked skin.
He thinks about it until the sun is up, his eyes sore, staring at the foot of his bed, feeling his legs shaking from the cold. He hears his parents make their way downstairs, getting breakfast, getting ready for the day, and finally the click of the door closing, meaning he’s alone.
He manages to reach for his phone, checking the time and gathers all the strength he has to walk himself to the bathroom. He thinks of a cold shower, to fade himself from existence, so cold and numb his body would feel, but he gives up.
The warm water runs across his skin, finally warming him up. He feels the blood starting to circulate again, making his skin tingle and itch. He wishes he weren’t feeling anything at all.
He can’t go to school today. He knows he can’t. Not when his body feels so heavy, not when he barely sees so sore his eyes are, not when Mason would ask.
He texts him, saying he feels ill, that he won’t come today.
Tell me if you want me to come over. Comes the reply. Liam doesn’t know what's best.
I’ll be fine. Thanks. He answers, settling back on his bed. The sick feeling gripping his stomach has gone down, his limbs aren’t numb anymore, but he still hears Theo’s screams.
He doesn’t understand why he dreams about that, doesn’t understand why it affects him so much, doesn’t understand a thing about why his brain would make him go through this. He doesn’t get why he wakes up sobbing and shaking, when it’s Theo they’re talking about.
He’d understand if it were his mother he was putting in the ground, if it were Mason. Theo and he barely talk at school, greet each other with a nod most of the times. He’d sometimes hang out with their group, or silently drive Liam back to his place.
The wolf inside tells him he knows why. But Liam doesn’t want to listen.
He does nothing all day. Trying to drown the noise in his own head, playing video games and forcing himself to drink and eat.
As Liam expected, Mason shows up after school. He silently sits with Liam, his presence soothing. He waits until Liam wants to talk, because he knows he will, he sees the way his shoulder sag under the invisible weight of the thing he’s scared to say, he sees his eyes and the bags underneath them. He sees his skin and its pale reflection.
“Thank you,” Liam manages to croak out, making Mason squeeze his shoulder, encouraging him to continue if he wants to. “I—” Mason waits, all the patience in the world, staring at the same spot Liam’s hollow eyes do.
“I’m having nightmares again.” he finally says, and Mason turns to look at him. “But this time—” he feels his throat close up. It’s harder than he thought it’ll be, talking about it. He inhales.
“This time it’s Theo.” he forces out, voice breaking on the name. Mason is silent as Liam tells him about how he wakes up shaking and sobbing, how he feels wrong and how he fights his claws down so he doesn’t hurt himself, like he feels he deserves to, all these words fighting their way through the lump in his throat, fighting the urge to empty his stomach of the twist inside.
Mason stays the night. He manages to convince Liam to get some sleep, and promises he’ll be there if anything happens. He falls asleep hours after Mason.
He’s in the tunnels, walking close to the walls as if the person walking next to him would jump suddenly and stab him in the back. There’s so much dust in the air he can’t see even though he tries to catch sight of who that person is.
He hears his own footsteps resonate in the emptiness of the underground building, along with three other pairs. The air dissipates for a second and he chances a look at his right, a quick and swift movement of the head. He freezes when he catches his reflection, still walking, an ugly scowl changing his features, he seems so full of rage and hatred Liam can’t believe it’s himself he’s seeing.
A rush of wind swipes the tunnels, bringing back the dust swirling in his eyes, and just before he turns his face away from the wall, his other self turns around, catching his eyes – wicked and inhuman expression taking over his face.
Liam wakes up the second their eyes meet, cold sweat starting to form on his forehead. His alarm is ringing and Mason is watching over him with a worried expression.
“I’m okay.” Liam tells him before he asks, in case he does, even though he can feel his own heart trying to get out of his chest. It’s almost painful.
Mason places a gentle hand on his shoulder.
They get ready to go to school. Liam forces himself to eat, even though he’s not hungry; having taken the habit not to eat from the past week, but he can’t risk Mason to suspect anything.
He thinks about the dream. Like he’s been doing for the past week, even if then he didn’t know what it was about. He thought he’d be ready to go back, but first class is Biology and they inevitably bump into Theo.
The boy greets him with a nod, and a mention of his last name. Liam is frozen in place ; he had mentally prepared himself to face him but it’s worse than anything he’d imagined. The buzzing of the crowd is tuned out and the screams from the nightmare are there again. Theo asking him not to do that. Theo screaming for help, begging for Liam to help him.
Something he doesn’t do.
Liam feels his stomach drop as he nods back. His gaze follows Theo as he settles in the class, and Mason is trying to shake him out of it but all Liam can do is stare and try to blink the tears away.
He turns on his heels then, without a glance back. He barely hears Mason calling his name. He runs the further away he can, to escape the pleads, the screams in his head. To escape the emptiness and the tears stinging his eyes.
He can’t escape anything though. The voices echoe loud in his head, and his feet have lead him inevitably to the place he fears so greatly.
He collapses on the floor, shaking, eyes spilling acid. He stays like that until he hears steps coming his way, forcing him to stand up, a reflex to flee. He catches the scent and he feels his stomach turn.
Because Theo followed him there and now they’re both in the place they dread the most. It’s all his fault. All his fault, all his fault, all his fault.
With all the strength he finds in his weak body, he screams at him to go away, to get out of here. But Theo’s steps are steady and determined, closing up on Liam who’s trying his best to walk away with his shaking legs.
“Please go away.” he says, voice breaking. He hears Theo stop in his track.
“What’s going on with you?” Theo mutters under his breath, he’s probably a corner away from where Liam is leaning against the metal pipes, trying to hold his body up. He feels so heavy.
“Please.” he pants, lower lip trembling. His eyes are stinging, thank god not because of the usual dust mixing with the air in the tunnels of his dream. If it wasn't for the tears clouding his vision, the view would be clear. He's holding unto that. He's holding unto that. Please no more dust.
Theo takes another step, starting to walk again, and Liam hears him turn the corner. He’s a few steps away now. Liam stares at the pipes instead, tears falling down, unable to bring himself to look the way he knows Theo is standing.
“Come on.” Theo says. Liam realises how close he is. They stand without a word for a moment, Liam’s panting and hiccups resonating in the emptiness of the corridors.
It feels endless until Theo speaks again. Liam feels like he can't breathe.
“Come here.” Theo says, a hand now gently tugging at the end of Liam's t-shirt. No answer is heard, Liam doesn't know what to say, barely able to focus on anything but the dread in his heart, hammering in his chest. Theo waits in silence, fingers still pinching the fabric hesitantly.
The thoughts clash in his head. Liam knows. They’ve gone through a lot together, they’re both aware of the bond they share, the way they can be there when no one else can, or when no one else should.
When Liam is losing it, when he wants to run away, hide, be alone, disappear, Theo is still tolerated in his space, still accepted in his fury, in his folly.
Whne he speaks, finally, the words cut through all the noise in his head.
“I’m sorry.” Liam croaks out after seconds, minutes of silence. They both know Theo would have waited hours if he had to.
“What for?” he breathes, his hand dropping from the place it held unto Liam’s shirt. Liam chokes on a sob, trying to get the words out.
“I don’t mean to hurt you.” he says, bending over at the spike of sickness in his stomach. Please not now. He inhales sharply, staring at the floor.
“I didn’t mean to,” he says again, kneeling on the floor, and then the words flow out, watery words, between shaky breaths and sobs, tears spilling out, his heart throbbing painfully. “I would like to stop, I tried to stop, but I couldn’t, it wasn’t me. Believe me, it wasn't me."
Silence. Only Liam’s sniffing, trying to breathe through his throat closing up.
“I didn’t mean to...” he breathes out, exhaustion taking over him. Theo seems to notice, and he kneels next to him.
“You did nothing wrong.” Theo tells him, trying to get a look on Liam’s face, who only faces away, chest heaving.
“Liam, breathe.” Theo’s hand lands on his upper arm, giving it a squeeze, grounding. At that, Liam inhales sharply. Air. At last.
He focuses on the warmth of the skin through the t-shirt fabric. It seeps through him, he rests his forehead against a dusty pipe.
Theo stays next to him in silence.
A long moment, a breach in the course of Time. Liam can breathe more easily now. He lets go, in a whisper.
“Please don’t leave me again.”
It's pleading. It's vulnerable, broken the way he truly feels. One last thing before giving up. He knows he's showing himself bare.
“I’m not going anywhere.”
It's firm. Raw. True. The only truth Liam wants to know, and learn, and relearn. The only thing he's holding unto. The only person who can save him from himself.
He inhales.
There is no dust.