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Jack can’t sleep. His head is both too empty and too loud. He hugs the pillow in his arms tighter, doing his best to stave off the increasing pounding of his heart. It’s morning already, the sound of traffic outside getting louder, piercing his ears and making his chest feel tight, tight, TIGHTER—.
He yanks the blanket up over his head, muffling the sound just a little. A small, wretched noise forces itself out of him. He’s got too much room around him, too much space that isn’t filled with either blankets or pillows. Pressing his palms to his temples, he groans, tossing and turning, trying to block out light, sound, his thoughts, the feeling of just about everything.
A frustrated yell almost makes it out, clamped back between teeth gritted so tightly they nearly creaked. Ugh, he could cry.
He sighs, just shifting to get comfortable, no longer trying to fall asleep. He’s exhausted, having not gotten even a wink of real rest. He turns to the side, pressing his cheek to the pillow and jerking back when it itches. His jaw feels sore, and isn’t it so annoying that something goes wrong right when he gets comfortable in one way?
Jack sighs, continuing to lay around is doing him no good at all. He sits up, stretching his back to get rid of the aches from having shitty posture. He eyes the candle on his dresser across the room. He should light it. The citrusy scent might help, at the cost of a headache. But it was too blue gray in the room.
He slowly forces his legs to move, swinging them over the edge, wincing as his lower back twists. He stands with a groan, heading over to the dresser and lighting the candle. He cracks his bedroom door open a bit so he hopefully gets less of a headache later. Then he goes back to bed and flops over, halfheartedly tugging the blanket back over himself.
The scent of citrus slowly fills the room, making him drowsier and drowsier until he falls asleep.
-
He wakes up to the rumbling of his vents. The heater must be turning on. He stretches slightly, comfortable and warm under the blanket and not really wanting to get up. The smell of citrus is faint now, barely there.
He sits up sharply, grunting. Shit, he fell asleep before he could put out the candle. He looks to it, only to find that the lid is covering it, and the wax is still far from the bottom of the glass. He stares for a moment, blinking at it and wondering if he did, in fact, put the lid on while half asleep, and just didn’t remember it. Then shrugs and lays back down. Oh well, might has well sleep some more. He didn’t have anywhere to be.
He doesn’t bother to pull the blanket back over himself, but as he drifts off, he thinks he hears Dave murmuring and large hands tucking the blanket back around him.