Psychopaths Can't Love

Screw Up

Trigger warning: PTSD, war, depression, mild abuse, and drug usage.

Also this chapter is very gay. Just warning you. But since you're reading gay fanfic, I guess you don't care.

-Leah

Seb was back in Iraq. Bullets were flying every which way, narrowly missing him by inches. He sprinted away across uneven ground, towards an unidentifiable safe place.

A bullet grazed his leg. He fell over, his momentum carrying him, rolling him over the thorn-covered ground. Pain filled him. He wanted to scream as loudly as he could until his throat gave out, but then that man would find him and he would die. He was going to die.

"Sebastian! Wake up!"

Seb opened his eyes and found himself looking at Jim. Jim's hand was on Seb's shoulder and was violently shaking him, but he stopped as soon as he saw that Seb was awake.

"The hell do you want?" Seb muttered, rolling back over. He tried to hide the fear he had just been living.

"You were thrashing around in your sleep," Jim said. "It was scary. What were you dreaming about?"

"Piss off," Seb growled, putting his face in his pillow.

"Are you okay?" Jim sounded genuinely concerned. He couldn't be worried about Seb. He didn't care about him.

"I said piss off," Seb repeated.

"I have sleeping pills if you want them."

Why did Jim have sleeping pills handy?

"Piss off!"

"Sebastian, I..."

"Go the hell away!"

"Okay. Um... what's on your arm?"

Seb suddenly wished he didn't sleep shirtless. He rolled over and searched for the duvet, which he had kicked down below his feet (he regretted only wearing boxers, as most of his legs were in full view). He pulled it over his shoulders and rolled away from Jim.

"Do you want me to stay here for the night?" Jim asked gently.

"No!" Seb burst, losing his patience with Jim in an instant. He didn't care that Jim was a gorgeous bastard. He just wanted Jim out of his way. Screw his emotions. "Leave me the hell alone!"

Jim left quickly without another word.

Seb rolled back onto his back and stared at the ceiling. He glanced sideways at his subdominant arm. Even in the darkness, the marks across it were very visible.

~

Seb woke up late into the morning. He stretched his legs, rolling over. He hadn't had any more dreams taking place in Iraq that night, but the dream he'd just had was inches away from his fingertips. It had been a good one. It had something to do with Jim. He couldn't remember any of it, though.

Seb climbed out of bed and made his way toward the closet. He never slept in pajamas. He only ever slept in his boxers, as he didn't want to have to put something on to get something to eat in the middle of the night but always found himself overheating if he wore pajamas.

Seb didn't want to just walk into the kitchen only wearing underwear, as that seemed a bit forward. He threw a dressing gown over himself and tied it hastily before walking into the kitchen. Jim wasn't in there yet.

A few minutes later, Jim walked in. Seb thought he would at least look somewhat like he'd just woken up, but he didn't. He was already wearing a suit, and his hair was already in pristine condition.