Chapter Text
Crutchie woke with a gasping start, his fingers digging into the blanket and his face wet and red from the touch of tears. The darkness of the lodging house made him think, for a moment, that he hadn't escaped his dream at all, and he couldn't seem to stop the scenes from flashing through his mind.
“Jack!” he cried, though he didn't know why. Jack wasn't at the refuge. He couldn't help.
When he felt a hand on his shoulder, he jumped, his heart hammering and his breath catching. He squeezed his eyes closed.
“Let me go,” he breathed, terrified and unable to bring his voice any louder.
“Shhh, Crutchie, it's me.”
Crutchie froze, though his breaths were still wheezing, and he looked around again, noticing the familiar shapes of the lodging house, and then the familiar face of Jack beside him.
“Jack?” he whispered.
Jack tried for a smile, but it quickly fell off his lips. “Yeah, kid, it's me. Scoot over, will ya?”
Shaking, Crutchie moved over on the bed to give Jack some room. Jack slid in and pulled the covers up over the both of them. Their bodies pressed close together, Jack wrapped both arms around Crutchie and held him.
“The other boys-” Crutchie began, but Jack shushed him, not complaining when Crutchie’s head fell on his chest. He smelled like soap and fresh newsprint.
“The other boys is back asleep,” Jack assured him. “I think all you woke was Race.”
Crutchie didn't say anything, just reminded himself not to waste this moment, this feeling of being wrapped up in bed with Jack. He felt almost guilty about it. It didn't mean the same thing to Jack, he knew that. To Jack, he was a friend, yes, but also a kid who needed looking after. Though Jack would chastise him for it, sometimes it was impossible not to feel like a burden. But Crutchie could pretend, for brief moments, that this was something else. Something he'd never have. “Jack,” he whispered.
His voice vibrated through Jack’s chest, and Jack closed his eyes and sighed, resisting the urge to squeeze him closer.
“Yeah?”
“I'm sorry I woke you up. I didn't realize- I thought that I was still-“
Jack did tighten his grip now, as his chest constricted. “No, shh. Crutchie, it's okay. I know. I know.”
Neither of them spoke for a minute, until Crutchie asked, “did you ever have nightmares? About the Refuge, or Snyder?”
That was easy. He’d had plenty, but when he looked down at the boy beside him, all he could recall was the terrible fear of waking up after a dream in which Crutchie was gone. He’d dreamt horrible things. Crutchie screaming for him, being taken farther and farther away, no matter how long or fast Jack ran. Crutchie, shivering and starving in the Refuge while bars in the windows kept Jack from getting to him. Sometimes, in the midst of an otherwise mundane dream, Jack would find a familiar hat or a crutch in a pool of blood, and wake up in a sweat.
“Yeah,” he answered, and there must've been something in his voice, because Crutchie glanced up, and then shifted so he was facing him.
“Are you alright?” Crutchie asked, his voice soft, his body still curled up on Jack’s in the small bed.
Jack didn't answer for a minute, making Crutchie worry that he might be seeing through him. Was he touching him too much? Was everything he felt plastered on his face? He’d cried Jack’s name in his sleep, for god’s sake. Surely Jack could guess-
“I dreamed about you,” Jack admitted, closing his eyes briefly and hating that he could feel Crutchie moving away from him.
“You- you did?”
Jack shifted, removing his arms, not wanting him to feel uncomfortable. “Yeah. A lot, actually.”
Quiet.
“What about me?” Crutchie finally asked. His voice had been soft before, but now it sounded small.
Jack took a deep breath through his nose. Just tell him. “Bad stuff, Crutch, it was- it was nothing you wanna know about.”
“No, tell me,” Crutchie said, noticing the desperation in his own voice. He could've kicked himself. Jack is your friend. Your friend, he repeated. He cares about you. Nothing more.
“No,” Jack shook his head, not seeming to notice Crutchie’s lapse. “I can't do it, kid. Not again. And you don't wanna hear none of that stuff. I'm not gonna be responsible for causing you any more pain.”
“Jack-” Crutchie reached out a hand, placing it on Jack’s chest, but he quickly recoiled when Jack’s eyebrows scrunched together. “Sorry,” Crutchie fumbled, now hating that they were so close. Jack could probably hear how fast his heart was racing.
"Are you... feeling better?" Jack asked.
"Yes," Crutchie said, quickly. The tension between them was thick and unfamiliar.
"Good," Jack said, shifting and then sitting up. "I'll see you in the morning."
He stood, leaving half of Crutchie's body cold and the blankets in a twist. "Yeah," Crutchie said. "Goodnight."
Jack didn't respond, and under the cover of darkness, Crutchie pressed his hands over his eyes. Dammit.