21st_sacrament | nightmares (distubing imagery)

He wakes up one night, shaken and sweaty and pinned by Alex's sleeping body on top of him and it's all it takes before he rolls the man off him roughly, sending him off the bed and onto the floor while he runs to the bathroom. He misses the yelp and grunt of pain, already on his knees heaving, the bulk of his dinner from before expelling hotly from his belly and the smell is wretched, tightens the sickly coil in his stomach.

He falls flat on his back on the tile floor when he's done, eyes teary and throat stinging. In his blurry vision he sees Alex crouch above him, reaching out to touch his face. He blinks at the hand, sees it wet and dripping and red. He sees the small stream running down his palm, from all the way up his arm and around his neck. A deep bloody gash sits at the base of his throat, he swears he can see his jugular sliced and open and leaking and there are numbers, carved deep into the span of flesh under his collarbone

two zero six and he looks down at him suddenly, with clear unwavering eyes and Henry blinks.

Alex's hand is touching his cheek, his lips moving but Henry can't hear him over the pounding of his heart.

He's not bleeding and Henry cries, hands covering his face tight.