Flash.

Thunder.

Another flash, once again breaking the scary darkness around me.

I've been trying to fall asleep for god knows how long. I turned from side to side and changed positions so many times, that by now I was laying in a mess created from tangled sheets and pillows everywhere.

Honestly, I don't think I've ever laid in such cozy bed as Johnny's. It was huge, even if I stretched all over it I still had some space left.

"Then tell me, dear brain, what keeps you so awake at 2. in. the. fucking. morning?" I mumbled to myself.

One last time, I turned onto my left side, tucked the sheets up to my nose and nuzzled it into the pillow.

I got overwhelmed by the familiar smell teasing my nostrils, and which I could almost feel in my chest. It was mixed, not just the cologne Johnny wears, but also something that smelled very manly, with a faint scent of cigarettes. It was like he had just left the shower, took a long puff from the smoke and laid down, letting it all sink into the sheets.

I took a deep breath. I loved it.

I quickly laid on my back again. Jesus christ what am I doing? It's a really weird shit.

Changing the subject, I wonder if Johnny's asleep because he mentioned earlier that he has some problems with it.

I peered my eyes open and placed both of my hands under the back of my head, staring straight at the ceiling.

I was partly guessing what was keeping him awake at night, but I could be wrong. There were even more things coming up in papers, and I couldn't imagine how he felt.

I sometimes thought about it, wondered why it happened and how it was even possible, that from all of the people, literally ready to take a bullet for him, he had to meet this, well, let's name it, a monster in human skin.

I liked to think about.. just him. Not in a romantic way, no. It was sorta comforting to have such a good human being as a friend, but mostly I hoped that it's not platonic and Johnny trusts me too.

Realizing I just can't sleep right now, I decided to go and get myself a cup of water and maybe see a house a bit. I mean, I didn't wanna snoop around, it's just, this whole place is so interesting at its vintage style and weird stuff.

I stood up and padded to the door. I tried to be as quiet as possible and made my way through the corridor. There were lots of old pictures, candles and wooden furniture. It sorta reminded me of Dracula's castle, although Johnny's house wasn't as complicated.

As I entered the kitchen, a thought of having a late snack came over me, but I quickly shook it off. An idea of taking whatever I want from the kitchen without Johnny's knowledge seemed a bit strange, I'd say.

I heard TV noises coming from the drawing room. Also, let me explain quickly: when you look at it from the kitchen, through the open red curtain, you had a straight view at one of the couches there.

I saw a man looking like in a deepest sleep of his whole life, with two pillows under his head and a messed blanket reaching somewhere to the level of his stomach. Colors from the TV danced on his face, but clearly not interrupting his dreams.

I smiled, but then it dropped as I followed his right arm that hung loosely from the couch. Between his fingers I noticed still burning.. cigarette. It seemed to hang inches away from the carpet.

I made a few long steps on my tiptoes, and what I thought turned out to be true.

Taking it from him, I sorta leaned it on the ashtray, but not putting it out. It looked like he just took one hit and fell asleep.

I pulled the sheet on him higher, careful not to wake him up. Since the last time I saw him, he has taken off the bandanna from his forehead and changed from a shirt into a t-shirt.

I noticed there was a Ted Bundy documentary on TV. Johnny must've been watching it before sleeping. You have to know that serial killers/crime documentaries were my favorite, and once Johnny told me that he "absolutely fucking loves" it too. We always somehow caught a vibe and I think that's what binds us the most.

I stretched on the other couch, wrapping myself in a blanket. I debated whether to take the cigarette or not, but I decided to do it. Maybe it'll help me fall asleep, plus Johnny's cigarettes are so precious that I couldn't let wasting it.

Maybe 5 minutes in, I heard some moving behind me. I turned around, thinking Johnny woke up, but he only changed the position.

Although something was wrong. His brows were furrowed and because of the light I could see sweat glistening on his forehead.

He was acting weird, like in his sleep he wanted to use his hands for something, but obviously it's just a dream so they only flinched a little in their place. His head moved a bit to left and right, almost like he was shaking it 'no'.

Then suddenly something clicked in my mind.

He was having a nightmare.

Should I wake him? I never had to nor did wake someone up when they were having a bad dream. But I have to do something, for sure.

Alright, fuck it.

I stood up and approached Johnny. Sitting down on the free space his body left, I took his hand in mine and squeezed lightly. I began saying his name, but he only wriggled more.

I finally shook his shoulder with a little more force and this time he actually took a sharp breath and his eyelids parted a little.

Then Johnny rapidly sat up, his breath uneven. He looked around with a lost and almost terrified look, probably still from the dream. His eyes met me and, fortunately, moments after his expression changed to more soothed and calm.

In a matter of seconds, it turned into a very, very sad one, almost like he was about to break down and cry. Even his clenched lips curved out a pout I'd do anything to never ever see again.

I don't know why I did what I did next, it felt more like an impulse, but somehow also very strange. I wanted to help him so bad at what he was going through that I didn't even think twice.

I pulled him softly into my embrace, gently cupping the back of his head with one hand and placing the other on his warm back.

As I hid his face in the crook of my neck, he let out a shaky breath and hugged my torso firmly.

"It's alright, it was just a dream." I whispered, caressing his hair, as I sensed his body tremble under my hands. I felt my heart breaking into million pieces, seeing him like that.

Eventually the tension left his shoulders and he breathed in deeply. His facial hair tickled my skin as he was making small moves.

When he pulled away, I saw that his cheeks weren't so pale anymore, more like the opposite.

"Hi," he started sleepily, already forming a hint of a smile, slipping his hands off my waist. "What time is it?"

"Hey, around 2:30." I replied and moved to sit on the table near the couch, so Johnny could sit with his feet on the ground.

He did and rubbed the sleep out of his eyes adorably.

"Don't you wanna sleep anymore? it's the middle of the night." I asked and he shook his head.

"Not if it always looks like that," he answered and let out a short chuckle. It wasn't the real chuckle. "I'd rather.. eat something."

"Now?"

"Yeah. It's just.. I had somewhere.." and he looked over the couch and the table, finally stopping at my right hand's fingers.

"There it is."

I looked where he did and remembered that I was holding his cigarette.

"Oh, shit, sorry. I thought you aren't gonna-" and put it up, so he could have it back.

"Don't worry," he quickly interrupted and bowed enough to take a hit while I still held it between my fingers. That felt.. weird. "Only needed something to calm down. You can have the rest."

"By the way, why are you here? I thought you were sleeping upstairs." he said as smoke was leaving both his mouth and nose. He smirked lightly at the word upstairs, probably remembering our little competition.

I hit his arm playfully, "I couldn't fall asleep in your magnifique bed."

I finished the cigarette with last two puffs and stubbed it out in he ashtray. Johnny smiled happily at me using french.

"Oh, vraiment?" he asked with a raised brow. I have no clue what he has just said.

"Well, yes." I replied, full of hope that this is a correct answer.

He let out a chuckle, real one this time. "Je suis désolé, I thought it's comfy enough."

Now I figured out that at the beginning he said i'm sorry. "Oh, it was comfy. Very comfy, actually." I replied and sorta remembered the feeling of it. "It's probably just my mind going all about the recordings later. I'm a little scared that I'll fuck something up."

"You won't," he replied confidently. I gave him a 'what makes you so sure?' look.

"One, we practiced it like a thousand times, so don't worry, you can't fuck up. Two, you're playing for about a month now or so, and believe me, I've never seen someone who played guitar that good, while only doing it for a month. You're special." he said and I felt my cheeks heat up. I'm glad it was rather dark around us.

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