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Red haze extends as far as the eye can see. Footfalls echo, reverberating against red stone caves. Each step makes his stomach twist into a tighter knot. As he walks he doesn’t move, each step lands in the same spot it just had. Why can’t he just leave? He knows this place better than he’d ever wish anyone could. It needs to let him go, to let him cut the tie. He doesn’t care if it means he’d drop dead at least then everyone would be safe.
Safe.
The word lingers in his mind. They’re not safe with him. Never will be. At a pin drop, he could just-
He starts to run. The walls are the same, the same, the same The Same. Frustration and despair make his heart clench and sink, joining the knot in the pit of his stomach. He looks back in a desperate attempt to prove to himself that he has moved. Instead, he sees bars. Bars and red brick inching closer and closer.
No. No, he can't be here- that's not possible.
Searing hot metal clamps around his wrists, flesh bubbling as he’s yanked back and his legs are swept from under him as footing is lost.
He screams. He can’t do anything but Scream as he is dragged back to that cell. That cell that has grown so acquainted with the taste of his blood. The chains rattle, straining his arms as they’re held over his head as they had been stuck for weeks- months- too long. Far too long as he waited to see The Puppeteer come back to his cell to continue the transformation- to pierce flesh again and take more and more of his humanity. To try to convince him his memories needed to be done away with. To take his eyes bit by bit with each act of disobedience.
The chains rattle and it rattles him- he’s doomed. This time they’ll kill him, he’s so tired, so worn, no use to them as a Shadow Knight any longer - a form is in front of him, holding him back against the wall. Red eyes gleam as sharp teeth are revealed in a smirk and the blade plunges into his ribs. In a last desperate thrash, he lurches his head forward, headbutting The Puppeteer as hard as he can muster.
The pain is what finally wakes him up.
His hand shoots up to hold his head and he feels the warm tears running down his face. Soft curses come from somewhere to his left. He can hardly hold his head with how much he is shaking, his hands weak, his heart long stopped beating even feels as if it's mustering a few solemn beats with the fear. His vision is hued with red, he's back- he's really there- he’s going to die, die, Die.
Rough hands gently cup his face as a blonde man comes into view. He doesn’t recognize him from the nether—not from the nether, then where? Where has he seen this man?
“Laurance, Laurance, love. Slow down.” His gravelly voice is familiar, his voice is home.
He does as he’s told, watching the man's face. Slowly releasing the tension from his body as the red fades to show the true colors of the world, to see his blue eyes and see the moonlight illuminating the room from behind the curtains that dance softly in the night breeze allowed in by a slightly open window. This isn’t the Nether. He sees the cobble path outside, the lamps and fields in the distance.
Phoenix Drop.
He looks back at the man.
Garroth.
He falls forward into his arms, head resting against his broad shoulder. “It’s you.” He whispers as the shaking begins to subside.
“It’s me” He presses a gentle kiss to Laurance’s hair, absently running his fingers through the ends of his hair.
It's then that Laurance realizes the pain from the headbutt has remained. That wasn’t Gene holding him down. Shit. He pulls away from Garroths shoulder, hands gently moving to cup his face as Garroths had his own moments ago.
“Shit, Garroth did I-?”
Garroth turns his head to place a kiss against Laurance's hand, “It’s alright. I didn’t want you to hurt yourself. I woke up to you screaming and came in here, tried to shake you awake -” the chains rattling “- when that didn’t work I wanted to make sure you weren't a danger to yourself.”
Guilt sprays his face with warmth and opens another pit in his stomach. They’re not safe with him. Never will be.
“Don’t worry, we can come up with a more respectable story about the matching bruises” Garroth attempts to bring levity to the room. It’s just barely dumb enough of a comment to break Laurance's spiral and make him laugh.
“That's not what I was worried about you goof” A weak smile breaks the scowl he didn’t realize had intruded his expression.
Garroth gently leads Laurance to lie back down as he climbs back out of Laurance's bed. “Yes, well. We will have more to worry about in the morning if we don’t get proper rest. You are quite grouchy without your ‘beauty sleep’” He teases.
“Oh please, how much of that O’khasis drink - whats the name, coffee, do you drink in the morning?” He shoots back.
Garroth simply rolls his eyes with a chuckle, “Not as much as my father”
The blonde steps back, preparing to leave. Laurance’s hand shoots out to his once again before he can stop himself. “Stay?”
Garroth is taken aback, blinking a few times and looking at their hands for a moment. Normally they sleep separately as the guard's tower is fitted with rooms for each of them and for practicality as they both enjoy their own spaces, sometimes staying in the others room for the night, but those nights have been far and few between recently.
“I just… If I go back there, I don’t want to be alone” Laurance tries to explain, looking away as further shame creeps into his skin. What a pathetic guard he must look like, losing to nightmares. How is he to ever protect anyone when he has failed himself already. He feels the bed dip and his head swivels back to Garroth as he joins him in bed.
“I won’t leave you alone” He promises, kissing Laurance's forehead and laying beside him. Laurance smiles as they become a comfortable tangle of limbs to rest on. Laurance lays his head against Garroths chest.
The beating of his lover's heart is the only lullaby he needs as he falls into a comfortable sleep.