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“-Immy! Jimmy!”
Jimmy’s eyes snap open and he sits up.
The avian looks around, he’s sitting in a field of wild flowers, a sight that seems familiar.
There is a light weight upon his head, so he reaches up, taking it off.
He looks down at his hands, seeing a flower crown in them, made purely of blood red poppies.
“Jimmy!”
Jimmy whips his head around, turning his body to look behind himself, trying to see who’s calling him, but all he sees is a patch of poppies a few feet away, the field of flowers seaming to go on forever, rolling hills of nothing but multicolored flowers, and one patch of red poppies.
When the canary turns back around, looking down at his hands, the crown is dissolving into ash, disintegrating faster and faster.
He jumps up, dropping it to the ground, feeling like his hands are on fire.
He takes a step back, looking at the pile of ash that formerly was the crown of poppies.
The avian turns around, looking back at the patch of poppies, recognizing the shape. The shape of a humanoid body.
An arrow sticks out of the body, sticking out of where the head of the popped outline is.
When Jimmy really looks at the flowers, they seem to be growing on the body of someone, someone who looks sickenly familiar, blue hair covered in a spray of blood.
Horror over comes Jimmy as the name of the man in the flowers appears on the tip of his tongue, “S-”
The blue haired man’s red eyes fly open, and he shouts, “Jimmy!”
The avian jumps back in surprise, tripping backwards over his own feet, landing on his back, falling, falling, falling…
His back hits the hard, rough surface of a tree, the sharp blade of a sword begging pressed to his throat, “Timmy!” An ungodly voice whispers in his ears, purples eyes haunt the dark air in front of his face, a familiar finger, curling under his chin, thumb, resting on his chin, pulling his jaw down so his eyes are at level with the purple ones, “It was always going to be like this Tim.”
The sword’s sharp blade is dragged across Jimmy’s neck and he’s falling backwards again, wet blood welling up from the cut on his neck as he flips in free fall, all before finally landing hard on his back, grass tickling his ears and forearms.
He gasps, the wind having been knocked out of his chest from the fall.
Once he gets air in his lungs again, he lays there, looking up at the dark treetops, trying to catch his breath, chest aching with the need for air.
“JIMMY!”
The avian jumps in his skin, sitting up quickly, propping himself up on his elbows.
A man stands in front of him, almost above him, a diamond axe in his hands, covered in blood, new and old.
The man has a small spray of blood on his face, complimenting crazed, red eyes, a bright red streak in his hair, a glint of murderous blood lust in his eyes, his wolf tail flicking behind him, ears pinned up, alert, a dangerous air to him, ready to attack, ready to kill.
The man’s name is on the tip of his tongue.
He’s hated this man, he’s loved this man, he’s fought this man, and he’s cried in his arms.
“Joel-”
The man raises the axe above his head, not a hint of recognition, none of love, nor of hatred, just a lust for blood, the need to kill.
The axe comes down, colliding with Jimmy’s skull, making the world go dark instantly.
Jimmy sits up, gasping for air, griping at his chest, clawing at it, desperately trying to breath in, all he sees is a blackness, a darkness in the world around him, the phantom cold of the darkness of the void-
“Jimmy, are you okay man?”
Jimmy almost jumps out of his skin as his eyes adjust to the darkness.
The boy from his nightmare stares back at him, but the fear fades as he recognizes concern and empathy in brown eyes, a green streak dancing in his face, his bangs in need of a trim.
“Jimmy?” It's unusual to hear Grian say Jimmy’s name, instead of Timmy, or Tim.
The avian looks to his other side, seeing Grian sit up, the sleep again rubbing at his eyes.
“I uh…” Jimmy blinks, the night mare already fading away, “I had a night mare.” he says, his breath evening out.
“Hmmn.” Grian nods, running a hand though his hair, “Do you remember what it was?”
Jimmy tries to think, but the memories are already fading away, “No…”
Joel gently places a hand on his arm, “Are you going to go back to bed?”
Jimmy swallows, he is still tired, and their bed is warm.
The avian nods, laying back down in the bed with his boyfriends, his bad boys.
“Do you want me to lay on you?” Joel asks, knowing the weight of another person on top of him helps calm Jimmy.
“Yes please.” Jimmy says.
Joel lays down on top of him.
Jimmy places a hand in his hair, gently carding his hand through brown and green locks, scratching behind fluffy gray ears, causing an equally gray colored tail to swish behind his legs under the covers, tickling his toes.
Grian rolls over, laying on his side, reaching a hand up, gently running it though Jimmy’s golden blond hair, trying to help calm the canary.
The canary’s eyes feel heavy, and he falls asleep soon, feeling comforted and loved.