𝐌𝐄𝐓𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐈𝐀 - TMR, Gally ¹

𝟢𝟤𝟦，𝐠𝐮𝐢𝐝𝐞: 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐩 𝐚 𝐩𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐜 𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐚𝐜𝐤

CH. TWENTY - FOUR
┗━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━┛

How many times does she have to awake from nightmares? Because she for real lost count by now.

Except this isn't hers. This is Gally's nightmare. She can tell by the color change, and also by the things that happen in the nightmare. She doesn't get nightmares about being tied up and having a Griever released onto her.

Staring at the ceiling, she waits for him to wake up. As long as he doesn't, she'll keep hearing the sounds of his nightmare. Will keep seeing it when she closes her eyes.

Everything alright? She wonders after a while, but there's no reply. This whole thing is freaky in the first place, but in moments like this, it can be handy, too.

His unease and discomfort evolves. Spreads around her body and sends shivers down her spine, because it doesn't feel nice at all. It heaves her chest, as if bricks have fallen onto it, not allowing her to breathe. She can breathe, though. It just feels like she can't.

Does that mean Gally actually can't breathe?

She shakes the thought off. How weird it would be for her to show up in his hut at three AM. So she waits a little longer, knowing she won't have to try to fall asleep because it won't work. For a second, she does close her eyes.

The Griever is a big, slimy thing. The tail seems stolen from a scorpion, while its legs are spider-like, though they're made from metal and one of them carries a stinger. Spikes sit on the back, dreads of slime connecting them like dots.

It's awful, so she quickly opens her eyes again.

Gally? She sends the words to him. Would you stop having this nightmare? Freaks me out too, remember?

Another tug at her chest. Can't breathe.

Ah, great.

Joan slips into her shoes and starts making her way to his hut, since those words were an obvious call for help. She walks on a good pace, reaching his door fast and opening it with a rough movement.

Well, Gally wasn't lying.

He's sitting on his bed, one hand on his fast-moving chest as the other one fists the sheets, breaths unsteady and quick. Joan rushes over to him, unaware what to do, and sits down in front of him with some hesitation.

"Ever had this before?" She wonders. "Do I do something?"

Shrugging, he shakes his head. Takes a panicked look around.

"Hey, look at me." His breaths heave even more as he does so. "Uh, try to think of... of something that makes you happy," she ends up saying.

Gosh, how is she supposed to stop this?

"Or, eh, name the color of my hair," she stammers.

"How's that going to help?" He gasps, shaking his head over and over as his inhales only get faster.

She cups his face, slightly panicked too now. "Just keep looking at me. And then... um... hold your breath! I think that helps. Come on, do it."