Page 30

Jamie

Two weeks slowly dragged by, and the longing within Jamie grew harder and harder to ignore. But his concern for Jesse kept him from giving in.

All he wanted was to keep Jesse safe. And seeing how pale Jesse still was, how he sometimes rubbed his chest when he thought Jamie wouldn’t notice, Jamie knew he was right to be worried.

Thankfully, Jesse was getting better. While Jamie still carried the crushing weight of guilt on his shoulders, his heart stirred with hope as Jesse’s strength slowly returned. Maybe—just maybe—Jesse really was going to be okay.

But the fear was impossible to shake. It clung to Jamie like an unrelenting shadow.

When Jesse had reached out to hold his hand the day after they made the agreement, Jamie froze. His heart pounded wildly, waiting for a sign, any sign, that his touch would somehow hurt Jesse. But… nothing had happened.

Still, the first kiss, a week after the hand-holding, was just as daunting.

Jamie had been terrified that even the slightest touch of his lips might be too much.

But then, when they kissed, there was nothing but the familiar warmth that he’d missed so much.

The kiss healed something inside him, and the walls he’d built around himself cracked, just a little.

The turning point, however, came with the first real hug.

When Jesse pulled him into a tight embrace, it was overwhelmingly soothing and grounding.

The steady, reassuring rhythm of Jesse’s heartbeat against his chest was comforting in a way that Jamie couldn’t explain, and for the first time since that awful day, he allowed himself to fully relax in Jesse’s arms. In that moment, he felt that they were starting to return to somewhat normal, and the fear that had consumed him began to fade.

Things could’ve finally calmed down.

But while Jesse was recovering, Jamie’s nightmares grew worse.

Each night, they crept in, happening so many times that Jamie had started to become aware he was dreaming.

And yet, they felt realer than ever before.

Whenever he fell asleep and found himself in that same hall ablaze with fire and thick with choking smoke, he knew it was a nightmare—but that didn’t make it any better.

In fact, knowing it was a dream almost made it worse, because he knew it would just never end.

Even when he woke up, it would only be a matter of time before he was right back here, right where he’d always been. Over and over again.

Tonight, though, something was different.

The anguished screams of the person kneeling over a body were the same, the horrible guilt that he felt, and the growing sense of dread and panic as a danger approached from behind.

But this time, when he made himself turn around, expecting the dream to end right when he almost saw what was coming, he didn’t wake up.

He was still here. And coming towards him, in the fire and the smoke, there was a figure.

Tall, proud, and furious.

Though everything was… blurred. He was looking right at them, but his eyes weren’t able to put together what the person standing before him looked like. He couldn’t identify the face. All he was certain about was they were going to kill him.

A surge of cold went through him—yet it was not from fear .

He looked up to see ice falling from above, flickering like crystals in the light of the fires and surrounding him in a flurry of frigid wind.

The ground creaked beneath his feet, and he glanced down to see a thick sheet of ice spreading out across the marble floor.

And reflected in it, he could see himself, hair white, and his eyes blue.

Then, with almost no time to react, a roaring blaze of fire suddenly shot towards him.

He gasped as he jumped into a backspring, the way he did when he danced, only he wasn’t dancing, not this time.

The heat from the fire nearly scorched him as it blazed by over his head, and a wave of fear and adrenaline shot through him.

The figure before him laughed. But just as with their face, he could not make out the attacker’s voice.

It was more like he remembered the laugh; not that he actually was able to hear it.

The figure was holding something in their hand, something dark and powerful, though once again, Jamie couldn’t really see what it was.

And then the figure spoke, the voice dropping to a threatening, venomous hiss; “Your powers won’t save you now…”

A scream ripped from Jamie’s throat as a soul-wrenching pain, stronger than any he’d ever felt before, began to course through him.

It was hotter than a searing fire, sharper than the longest knife.

It cut deep into his flesh, piercing at his very heart and surging through the blood in his veins.

His head felt like it was being split open, and his lungs ached for air but he could not draw in a breath. He could do nothing but scream.

“Jamie!”

The world around him shattered. The pain and fire fell away as a soothing darkness engulfed Jamie, as if he were breaking through the surface of an ocean, and taking in a desperate breath.

He found himself in Austin’s apartment, the television flickering erratically in the darkness and bathing the room in a ghostly blue light.

Austin was there, of course, his green eyes wide with concern as he rested a comforting hand on Jamie’s arm.

Jamie reached up and grabbed at that hand like a lifeline, closing his eyes and groaning as he tried to shake off the last lingering echoes of pain he could still feel deep within, his other hand automatically reaching for that damn scar on the back of his head.

His heart was pounding wildly in his chest and it was still hard to get air into his heaving lungs, but… it was over.

For now.

Jamie sat trembling, his face streaked with tears.

He tried to speak, but no sound came. His chest heaved with shaky breaths, and the weight of it all pressed down on him.

His nightmares had never gone that far before.

What did it all mean? Who had been there with him, and how had they managed to hurt him so badly?

What had the figure meant when they said his powers wouldn’t save him?

The thing they’d held in their hands; Jamie knew it was a part of it…

but the details were already slipping from his mind, fading like smoke.

“Holy shit, Jamie,” Austin said, biting his bottom lip in worry. “You’ve never screamed that badly before! What happened? What were you dreaming about?”

Jamie wanted to tell Austin about the figure he had seen so clearly in his dream, about that object in their hands, about the pain, about the words that echoed in his head. But he couldn’t.

Austin gritted his teeth, a flicker of anger crossing his expression—clearly not at Jamie, but more like he was angry at the very idea of him being hurt. “It was a dream,” he said reassuringly. “You’re safe now. Nothing can hurt you here with me.”

But Jamie wasn’t so sure.

These weren’t just dreams. They were real memories.

Dark, jagged memories buried deep inside him, surfacing only in his sleep, and never revealing enough for him to understand.

Jamie rubbed at his eyes, his hand trembling uncontrollably as he coughed to get more air into his lungs.

All he wanted was Jesse, to be held in his arms, and to be told that everything was going to be okay.

But Jesse was at work.

“Hey,” Austin said gently, giving Jamie’s arm a reassuring squeeze. “You’re okay. It’s okay. Just try to take in some deep breaths. You thirsty? Want some water?”

Jamie felt too shaken still. All he could manage was a stiff nod.

“Alright, be right back.” Austin got up and limped off into the kitchen, leaving Jamie alone.

Jamie grabbed his phone off the coffee table.

He wanted to call Jesse so badly—yet he paused before he even clicked his phone into activation, the reflection in the dark screen catching his attention.

His hair and eyes were still the wrong color.

It had been three weeks now since they had changed.

He swallowed as he held the phone closer, to get a better look.

It was still so strange to see himself like this…

and yet, deep down, it didn’t feel weird at all.

No, what really made it so unsettling were the implications of what it meant.

Because those colors had been the same in his dream.

Jamie rubbed the dampness from his cheeks.

How come he still couldn’t remember anything about himself?

Memorizing all the many steps and difficult details for his dance choreo had been so easy, so why couldn’t he just remember who he truly was?

He didn’t have the luxury of pretending he was normal anymore.

He wanted to be with Jesse right now. He craved it so much, it wasn’t fair. He wanted the warmth of his presence, the feeling of his strong arms around him, the sound of his voice as he told him everything was alright.

Austin came back in, carrying a glass of water. “Feeling any better?”

“…No,” Jamie rasped, finally able to speak. Pursing his lips, he turned on his phone and pulled up Jesse’s number, hitting the call button. “I need… to talk to Jesse.”

“Well, he might be busy,” Austin reminded him. “The graveyard shift can be pretty slow, but they still get customers. He might not—”

The line clicked.

“Jamie?”

“Jesse!” Jamie let out a deep breath, relief cascading through him just from hearing Jesse’s voice. “I – I don’t feel well. When will you be back?”

“…Not for a few more hours, unfortunately,” Jesse replied, concern creeping into his tone. “Are you okay? Where’s Austin?”

“He’s here,” Jamie said. “I just… I had another nightmare. A real bad one this time. I – I don’t feel right.”