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Amy was jolted awake at 4:07 in the morning by Jake sitting up with so much force it rattled the bed.
She was only annoyed for a second before she looked at him and saw how scared he looked. His hair was stuck to his forehead with sweat and his pupils dilated. His breaths were horrible and ragged and way too quick, and Amy quickly jumped into crisis mode.
“Jake! Jake, calm down, deep breaths,” she said urgently. Jake kept hyperventilating, wheezes mixed with sobs. Amy took his hands and breathed loudly as an example.
His broken gasps slowly turned into whimpers, and Jake broke down in Amy’s arms, trembling like a leaf. She held him, rubbing circles into his back, not knowing what else to do.
“What happened?” she said softly. Jake shook his head into her shoulder, saying nothing. She held him a little tighter. Then, so quietly he wouldn’t have heard it if they weren’t so close: “Nightmares?”
Jake nodded silently. He was still shaking, still crying, although a little less than before. Amy felt her heart break for him. A nightmare bad enough to wake someone up straight into a panic attack was a bad nightmare.
“Do you want to talk about it?”
A pause, then a faint, raspy “No.”
“Wanna watch Die Hard?” she said. He laughed wetly.
“Always.” His voice was thick and shaky with tears, but she could hear his smile.
So they watched Die Hard, and Amy made Jake hot chocolate even though he always spilled at least a few drops on the blanket. He leaned against her and she wrapped her arms around him. It was warm.
She hoped Jake was okay.