Page 20 of We May Be Fractured

Tea and Cigarettes

[Now playing ? Nightmares—Palaye Royale]

A aron woke up abruptly in the dead of the night, heart racing and skin slick with sweat.

It felt as if thorns lined his lungs, each breath scraping painfully against them. Trying to calm down, he massaged his chest, but the scars on his torso burned where the T-shirt, now two sizes too small, touched them.

The same nightmare haunted him: the backseat of the car, the escalating argument in front, the sudden, terrifying screech of brakes, the world flipping upside down. His mother’s screams pierced through his memory; Tori’s hand desperately gripped his in the chaos.

Then came the crash.

Metal crumpling like paper, a sickening sense of weightlessness, and a shower of glass shards cutting into his flesh, just as real as they had been on that fateful day.

Every time, he hoped the dream would end differently, but it never did. Tori’s hand always slipped away, leaving him alone with a piece of glass in his palm.

With effort, Aaron sat up, gripping the bed sheets.

He looked around his dimly lit room, trying to ground himself in the present, but he wasn’t sure where or when he was.

Time seemed distorted, like in his dreams. These nightmares weren’t just in his head; they seeped into his body, making his arms and legs feel like heavy weights.

It took Aaron an eternity to get out of bed.

When he finally managed to plant his feet on the rough carpet, he reminded himself where he was—and, more importantly, where he wasn’t .

But he knew it was only temporary relief.

The demons of the past would come back to haunt him as soon as he let his guard slip.

Years and miles apart made no difference; they’d always track him down, no matter where he hid.

He focused on his breathing, trying to calm his trembling hands.

He kept at it until his heartbeat slowed and his breaths came out normal again.

Still feeling shaky, Aaron tiptoed out of his room and crept through the dark corridor, using the light from his phone to find his way to the kitchen.

The clock showed three in the morning—his usual wake-up call, the so-called ‘witching hour’.

He didn’t buy into that kind of stuff but couldn’t deny feeling like he was cursed.

Drinking glass after glass of water didn’t do much to ease the bitter taste filling his mouth. So, he headed to the front door, slipped on his shoes, and stepped out into the night, ready to run until he couldn’t anymore.

*

R eturning an hour later, Aaron found Landon in the kitchen, heating skull-shaped crumpets in a pan, a leftover from Halloween.

“What are you doing up at this hour?” Landon asked as he transferred the sizzling crumpets to a plate. He then proceeded to smother them with an absurd amount of Nutella.

“Couldn’t sleep,” Aaron replied, propping his elbows on the kitchen island. “Went for a run.”

“Right, because a midnight run in freezing weather is a sure way to knock you out,” Landon said, dripping with sarcasm despite his sleepy look.

“Better than a sugar coma,” Aaron remarked, eyeing the crumpets with disgust. “You can’t sleep either?”

Landon didn’t answer and offered Aaron the plate. “Want one?”

Aaron shook his head. “I’ll pass.”

Landon shot him a look that screamed ‘your loss’ and finished his snack without another word. Then, he turned on the kettle, grabbed two mugs, and rifled through the stash of tea bags. “Any preferences?”

Aaron paused before answering. “Peppermint.”

Once the water boiled, Landon filled each mug, then, nodding towards the garden, suggested, “Let’s take these outside.”

The chilly November air greeted Aaron again as they stepped out, the grass cool and damp under his bare feet. Landon wrapped himself in a ginormous wool blanket and settled down by the fence.

Aaron hesitated for a second before joining him. He closed his eyes, taking in the minty smell of his tea. The aroma, along with the heat from the mug, started to relax his tense muscles.

The weight of something warm and soft over his shoulders made him open his eyes; Landon had shared his blanket with him. The small, unexpected gesture made the night seem less harsh.

Aaron turned to thank him, but Landon was already lost in his tea, slurping away.

Under the dim street lights, Aaron studied him.

Something seemed different about Landon tonight, a kind of softness not usually there.

Perhaps the oversized hoodie and baggy joggers made him seem less sharp, or maybe it was his bare face without the usual piercings and the sleepiness still lingering in his eyes.

A single, messy curl tumbled over his forehead, adding to this gentler image… made him look…kind of cute, actually.

Aaron realised he’d been staring too long when Landon cleared his throat, breaking the silence.

“Staring is rude. You’re making me feel all twitchy.”

“Sorry.” Aaron shifted his gaze to his bare feet in the grass. He knew better than to stare at people.

Landon fumbled in his pockets and took out a pack of cigarettes. He pulled out two and offered one to Aaron.

As Aaron placed the cigarette between his lips, the flame from the lighter cast a brief glow on Landon’s tattooed hand, the letters ‘TNEY’ still a mystery.

They both took a puff, sending swirls of smoke into the air, their other hands clutching steaming mugs. Tea and cigarettes, an unusual pairing. Just like the two of them.

“Insomnia or nightmares?” Landon asked.

“Just a bad dream. How about you?”

“Insomnia.”

Aaron took a drag while smiling slightly. “Fascinating.”

“So, were you running away from your nightmares?”

“Are you avoiding yours?”

Landon continued smoking, but Aaron wasn’t fooled. There was a difference between not being able to sleep and avoiding sleep altogether.

“What are you running from?” Landon asked, his eyes fixed intently on Aaron.

Aaron hesitated. “What makes you think I’m running from something?”

Landon stifled a laugh, exhaling more smoke. “I seriously wasn’t expecting an answer from a rabbit like you.”

“I’m not a rabbit.”

“Come on, you have nowhere to go, and you constantly lie to your aunt. You’re always on edge, flipping out when someone gets too close, and you get panic attacks. There’s something haunting you, and it’s the same thing that keeps you awake at night.”

Aaron turned to look in another direction. He hated to admit how accurate Landon’s observation was.

“One thing I’ve learned is that going far away isn’t enough to leave behind what you don’t like,” Landon added.

“I’m not running away,” Aaron protested.

“Keep telling yourself that. What’s your plan after this? Australia? It’s literally on the other side of the world.”

Aaron spun around, surprised. “How do you remember all this about me?”

“Don’t flatter yourself. It’s just that I understand more than you might think about fleeing from demons. But you can never escape what’s in your mind, no matter where you go.”

Landon’s words struck him harder than the chilly air. An undeniable truth lay in them, an unexpectedly disarming rawness. It made him think back to Sarah’s suggestion about opening up.

His parents had always emphasised the importance of being strong, never revealing any weakness. But witnessing the strength in Landon’s vulnerability, the bravery in his openness, made Aaron question that belief.

In the quiet, under the soft glow of the lamp lights, with mint and smoke and Landon’s candidness filling the air, an unexpected sense of security flowed through Aaron.

Though unfamiliar territory, this feeling of wanting to open up, the risk might be worth taking, a step towards something real. Maybe he could let someone in, even if only for a little while.

“Ever had a dream that felt so real, you weren’t sure if it was just in your head or something that actually happened?” Aaron asked.

Landon paused, took a sip of his tea, and nodded.

“Sometimes, I think if I could remember properly…if I could remember what exactly happened the night I got these”—he gestured at his scars—“maybe I could get over it, you know?”

Landon’s eyes momentarily clouded. “Or maybe you’d wish you could forget it altogether.”

“You saying there’s no way out?”

Landon shook his head, scratching behind his ear. “I don’t bother too much about dreams. Real life’s got enough crap as it is.”

“Wow, profound. Why didn’t I think of that?”

“I’m not joking,” Landon said more seriously. “Dreams are…brain noise, aren’t they?”

“Yeah, but you don’t know that when you’re dreaming.”

“True, but facts are facts, right?”

“Facts are a luxury for when you’re awake.”

“So, change what bugs you when you’re awake.”

Aaron barked out a short laugh. “If only it were that simple…”

“It can be,” Landon insisted, turning to face him. “Just focus on what keeps you grounded. Find something real to hold on to and use that against the stuff in your head.”

Aaron absentmindedly brushed his thumb against the pendant on his necklace. The familiar comfort it usually brought was off tonight.

He took one last drag from his cigarette and savoured the minty scent of his lukewarm tea. Next to him, Landon put out his cigarette butt and casually tossed it into his mug. A low, melodic hum escaped his lips.

“What’s that tune?” Aaron asked, intrigued by the softness in Landon’s voice.

“‘Mr. Sandman’. You know, the song? Maybe if you call on him, he’ll help you sleep,” Landon said with a half-smile.

Aaron frowned in confusion.

“Mr. Sandman’s a character from folklore,” Landon explained. “They say he brings good dreams by sprinkling magic sand in kids’ eyes while they sleep.”

“Does it work?” Aaron asked, half-joking.

Landon shrugged. “Can’t say he’s ever paid me a visit.”

“How do you know all this stuff?”

“I read a lot,” Landon replied. “Books, usually. They sell them in shops, have them in libraries, even on Amazon. You might find reading one interesting.”

Aaron smiled at Landon’s playful jab. This kind of teasing felt inclusive, a shared joke rather than a jibe aimed at him.

He was about to make a witty comeback when a blood-curdling scream shattered the quiet night, jolting them both. It sounded like it was coming from down the street.

“Foxes,” Landon declared with confidence as the screams persisted. “They’re mating.”

“So, you’re into nature documentaries as well as books?”

Landon shot him a look. “Didn’t you grow up around here?”

“I’ve never heard foxes going at it,” Aaron admitted. The continued shrieking made him wince. “It’s awful. Sounds like they’re killing each other.”

Landon chuckled. “Believe it or not, they’re having a good time.”

“Well, good on them, I guess…” Aaron tried to mask his discomfort with a chuckle. Even the foxes had a better sex life than him.

Landon narrowed his eyes. “So, how do you normally get to sleep?”

The sudden shift in conversation threw Aaron, but he figured Landon was just fishing for tips. “Usually, a long run does the trick.”

Landon made a noncommittal sound and got to his feet. “There are other ways to wind down, you know.”

“What, like our fox friends? Getting busy until exhaustion hits?”

Landon shrugged, a hint of a smile on his face. “Doesn’t have to involve anyone else. Sometimes, a bit of self-love does the job better. There’s plenty of science backing that up.”

Aaron stood up, too, chuckling. “I’m learning a lot about you tonight—folklore expert, bookworm, and now a sex therapist.”

“What can I say? I live to impress,” Landon quipped, heading back inside.

Aaron shook his head. Who was the parrot now?

He returned to his room, his head and chest lighter, where he threw himself onto the bed, the sheets, once itchy and warm with nightmares, now fresh and soft. Aaron closed his eyes, trying to relax.

His peace, however, was short-lived.

The sudden buzz of his phone jolted him. Picking it up, he frowned at seeing Landon’s name on the screen. But his confusion quickly gave way to warmth in his chest as he read the message.

A link to a song: “Mr. Sandman” by SYML.