"A Sanctuary Safe and Strong"(Marianas Trench)

Chapter 44

Josh was pulled under by sleep as soon as he tugged the sheet up under his chin and fisted it in his hand. Sighing deeply was his last deliberate move. Unfortunately, the relaxed feeling lasted for only a short amount of time, just as he'd predicted. His dreams were the same as they had been since he'd been reduced to fighting for his life. Nightmares - the glint of steel, cowering in corners, hiding from mysterious masked men who wanted him dead. It was all there, as he'd known it would be. Josh thought he should be used to this type of thing by now, but each nightmare that raced through his mind was worse than the one before, and he always woke up fighting the blankets, gasping and nearly sobbing until he couldn't breathe. 

The singer pushed himself up against the headboard, shoving the blankets away and pulling one of the three pillows onto his lap. "I can't fuckin' take this anymore," he mumbled down into the soft black cotton pillowcase, tightening his hand around the fabric. Rubbing his free hand across his tired eyes, he knew right away that the last thing he wanted to do was try to go back to sleep again, even though he'd only been out for... Fuck, his rest had only lasted for an hour and a half. It was one forty-seven in the morning. In a former life, he wouldn't have even gone to bed yet, but now he felt relatively sure that he was already up for the day. Every inch of the blond felt like it was riddled with nerves that were exposed to the world around him which continuously struck him with intense, almost obliterating sparks that nearly brought him to his knees each time he came in contact with something that he wasn't prepared for. That had to change, but it couldn't change until Josh was able to move past all of this shit that continued to hide around every proverbial corner, taunting and haunting him, whether he actively looked for it or not. 

The singer tossed the pillow from the bed, dropping it down on top of the book that still lay open on the floor. With an annoyed huff-turned-groan, he stood and made his way over to the desk in the corner of the room that faced the window. The blinds had been drawn for weeks, from the moment he'd first been able to step foot inside his bedroom since he'd been shot. That had been the very first thing Josh had done, terrified that one day he'd look out and see someone staring back at him, despite being on the second floor. More irrationality he couldn't get beyond.  

Josh pulled the chair out from under the desk and sat, leaning over and reaching for the acoustic guitar that had been doing nothing but taking up space lately. He'd wanted to try playing one of his instruments back at the studio earlier in the day, but Matt had snuck in and scared him shitless, completely ruining that idea by insisting on dragging him back here. But now was his chance, and he was fairly sure that he could play softly enough that it wouldn't wake the brunet. Maybe he could even use this time to his advantage by getting a little more writing done.  

Setting the guitar across his lap, Josh ran a fingertip through the fine layer of dust that coated the wood. Wrinkling his nose a bit, he wiped his hand across his shirt and moved to set his fingers on the frets, that slightly excited butterfly feeling in his belly replacing the one of pure terror he'd woken up to. His fans weren't the only ones who were helped by his music, or music in general. 

A, C#, E, G, he repeated several times, ducking his head and watching his fingers move through the notes. Sliding his hand down the neck, he switched gears, strumming one chord, a second, then choosing to run through several scales instead. He could already feel the slight soreness in the tips of his fingers after not having played in nearly two weeks, but it was a good pain. That was the kind he liked, the one he'd spent a lifetime getting to know, and the kind he'd spend the rest of his life flirting with because there was nothing else in the world that compared. And now, he'd be willing to play until his fingers bled if it meant getting back into something he loved and desperately needed. 

Almost two hours went by before the blond checked the clock, complaining quietly when he realized that it wasn't nearly as late as he thought it was. He could have sworn that it was near sun-up and he was horribly disappointed that it was still before four a.m. Yawning, Josh set the guitar down, leaning it against the wall instead of setting it into the stand where it belonged. He stood and stretched his arms up over his head, gasping when his still-healing ribs made themselves known. Grunting a bit, he eased his arms back down to his sides and rested a hand against the painful spot until it passed.