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He's weightless again.
He's in the car as it lifts from the asphalt like a jet on a runway. And the single moment he's in the air, which couldn't have been more than 3 or 4 seconds, stretches on for an eternity. This part of the dream always moves in slow motion. And everytime, he thinks of all the things he could have done differently.
He could have gone back to Uni, like his mother wanted. He could have entered the workforce, started at the rail yard with his dad. Hell, if he'd stuck with football when he was younger he could be going pro, like his brother planned to. Why did he have to be here? Why did he have to choose this? Then, before he connects with the ground and inevitably rolls off the track, through a crowd of onlookers, he wakes up.
Jann shoots up in bed. He's gasping for air but his lungs won't cooperate, like someones sitting on his chest. It's still dark, he can't make out the layout of his unfamiliar hotel room. In an attempt to control his breathing, he pulls his knees up and puts his head between them, something his therapist taught him. This has been happening since Nürburgring, though it's been a while since the last time, and it hasn't gotten any easier.
He tries to remember that day on the track after the accident, when Jack drove him out and talked him down from quitting racing forever. Replaying that conversation in his head usually works. Calms him down enough that he can breath, can think clearer. Jack always makes him feel better. But tonight is different. He can't recall Jacks words, Jacks voice. He can't think, and he still can't breath. He's gotta get out of here.
It happens in a blur. His feet carry him before his mind can catch up with his actions. Like some invisible string is pulling him out of bed, out of his hotel room and across the hall. His hand is raised from knocking. He doesn't remember doing that.
After a few beats, he hears what's sure to be muffled curses, accompanied by heavy approaching footsteps. The door swings open and Jack looks ready to kill, clearly furious to be woken up at this hour, but his features soften with bleary concern when he sees the look on Jann's face.
"Hey, what's wrong?" He croaks, voice scratchy from sleep.
Still trying to regulate his breathing, Jann doesn't speak. Too afraid his voice won't come out at all. Even if it would, he doesn't know what he'd say.
I had a nightmare?
I needed to hear your voice?
I can't be alone right now?
Jack exhales, looks around the hallway and pulls Jann in by his hand. He guides him to the couch in the living room and sits him down before pulling up a chair to sit in front of him.
"Hey. Kid, look at me." But Jann doesn't register his words. He can't seem to focus on anything, all his senses dulled. Suddenly there's a familiar weight of a hand on the back of his neck, and his head is shoved down between his knees again.
"Breath, Jann." Jack says in a hushed tone above him. "Breath for me, okay? In and out."
Jann takes a gasping breath and focuses on the feeling of Jacks hand, still on his neck. Its grounding, comforting, something he's grown accustomed to over the years they've worked together. And he's grateful for it, gives him something to think about that's not the constricting feeling in his chest, which seems to be slowly loosening now.
It's silent in the room, the only sound being Jann's pathetic excuse of oxygen intake, in and out. He can feel Jacks thumb stroking the hair at the nape of his neck, waiting for him to get his bearings. They stay like that for what feels like ages, before Jann's breathing evens out, and he slowly sits up.
"Talk to me." Jacks voice is steady. Firm, but not demanding. Jann avoids his eyes, looking down at the hands in his lap instead. Tears blur his vision before they start to fall. Jack's hand, still holding his neck, gives a reassuring squeeze, which only results in Jann crying harder.
"I just-" Jann tries, but his hiccuping tears make it hard for him to speak. "I just had a bad dream. I'm okay." He wipes futilely at his tears, trying and failing to prove his point. They just keep coming. "I'm- I'm okay."
"Clearly." Jack moves his other hand to hold the side of Jann's face, using his thumb to wipe away the stray tears.
Jann shouldn't have come. This isn't Jack's problem, he shouldn't be burdening him with this. But Jann can't make himself get up and leave either.
"It's just hard to relive it." Jann says wetly, his lip wobbling a bit, hoping he doesn't have to explain.
"I know, kid." He strokes Jann's cheek again by way of comfort. "Trust me, I know."
Jann takes a deep breath, trying to regain some semblance of control over himself. "I'm really okay. It's not a big deal, I'm just being dramatic."
Jann tries to lighten the mood by laughing it off, but Jack takes his face in both his hands and forces Jann to look at him.
"You don't have to pretend it doesn't hurt." And Jann is caught off guard by the gutted look in Jacks eyes.
"I wish I could take this pain from you, kid." His eyes well up, devastated to see someone he cares so much about go through something he understands so well. "I know what you're feeling and I know you don't deserve it." Jann's tears, which had started to slow, start up again, but he's not looking away now. He's searching Jack's face for any sign of dishonesty and finds none. Jann moves his hands up to hold onto Jack's wrists, just for another point of contact. "I can't take it from you, but I'll help you carry it. You don't have to do it alone. You can trust me to look after you."
Jann swallows down his tears, taking in Jacks words. They've got weight to them. He closes his eyes and tightens his grip on the mans wrists.
"After all," Jack starts, His tone shifting slightly. "who else is gonna make sure you don't sing Enya at an open mic in a full bar, 3 sheets to the wind." He's giving Jann a teasing smile. "Again."
Jann lets out a small wet laugh, remembering the night of that bar crawl in the States. Remembers the next morning too, with a headache pounding the inside of his skull and popping enough tylenol to take down an elephant. He'd texted everyone who was there that night and swore them to secrecy, never to speak of it again. Though he's still not fully convinced Leah deleted that video.
"Dickhead." Jann mumbles. Now Jacks laughing too, and with it the melancholy spell breaks. Jann feels lighter now, mentally anyway. Fear and anxiety leaving his body only to be replaced with exhaustion. He tips forward, out of Jacks hands and into his arms, and he rests his forehead against the mans shoulder. He really should be embarrassed, but he's just too tired, and they're way past that.
Jacks seen him at his worst more times than he can count. He can't believe he still tolerates him, let alone is willing to take the time to sit with him and help him work through whatever low he's in. Jann wishes there was someway to repay him, wishes he could tell him how much it means to him. Maybe someday he will.
"Can I crash with you tonight?" Jann asks. He doesn't think he can go back to his own room, not alone at least.
"Course, kid. Did you want the couch, or.. ?"
"You've got a king in there and you're gonna make me sleep on the couch?" Jann laughs into Jack's neck.
"Hey, as long as you don't kick in your sleep."
"As long as you don't snore."
"Oh, you're about to be in for a rude awakening, my friend."
They sit there in silence for a few more moments, Jann breathing in Jack's familiar, comforting smell of his favorite body wash, rosemary and mint, mixed with a subtle hint of rubber that never seems to go away. Jann could fall asleep just like this, almost does, and maybe Jack senses that, because he pats Jann on his side and moves to stand, so Jann follows suit, sticking close to him as he heads for the bedroom.
Jack moves to the side of the bed closest to the door, so Jann walks around to the other, by the window. They're a few days out from a full moon and the sky is clear, so light streams into the room unobstructed. As they settle under the covers, Jann desperately fights the urge to move closer. He doesn't want to push his luck any further, knowing full well he's put Jack through enough for one night. But something within him, something akin to self preservation, doesn't care. He wants to scoot closer to the man, wrap his arms around him and, flush against his back, press his face into his neck once more. But Jann knows better. He knows there's lines you shouldn't cross, especially in moments of vulnerability like this. He won't take advantage of Jack's kindness, and he won't dissect why he wants to. Not tonight anyway.
"Anything else you need, kid?"
Yes. "No. I'm alright, thanks."
"Okay, but if you think of anything don't hesitate to wake me up, alright?"
"Jack, I think if there's one thing we've learned tonight, its that I don't give a shit about your beauty sleep."
Jack huffs out a laugh. "Alright wiseass, go to bed."
"Yes, sir."
Jack rolls over, facing away from him. Once settled, Jann watches the rising and falling of his silhouette in the moonlight, waiting for Jacks breathing to even out. And when it finally does, he scoots closer. He wants a point of contact. Nothing so dramatic as what he was imagining, just a physical reminder that Jack is there. Replicating his position, Jann is on his side, and he allows himself to get as close as he can without their bodies actually connecting. He rests his forehead in the space between Jacks shoulder blades, and the warmth he feels through Jacks shirt mixed with the comfort mere proximity brings him has Jann's eyelids growing heavy.
Tomorrow morning is probably gonna be pretty awkward. Jack will probably ask him to talk about it, and Jann will probably brush it off and dance around it until Jack eventually gives up and all is forgotten. but Jann can't find it in himself to regret anything tonight. He'll make a fool of himself anytime if it means he ends up here.
Next to him.