Johnny has horrific panic attacks. And really, they’re horrific. He’ll stay up all night till the birds start to chirp sitting in his bed, refusing to turn the light off and be plunged into darkness as he sits there and shake, the non-existent danger feeling so real. All of his fears; past, future, and present seem to be alive tonight. Waiting for him right off the edge of his twin sized mattress.
Normally he looks after it himself, attempting to be his own comfort through the terrifying night. It hardly ever goes well. It mainly ends with Johnny curled up in himself waiting until morning while tears stream down his face, shivering even though he’s sweating.
But one night is different. One night, a specific man was awake and wandering the halls of the 141s barracks looking for the kitchen to get a drink of water. And maybe this specific man hears Johnny sniffling through the door, and decides to have a look.
Simon knocks on the door twice: mumbling a small “Johnny?”
Johnny goes quiet. A few seconds later and his door is opening, his lieutenant standing in the open doorway. The dark and empty hallway looking behind him.
Simon takes one loo at Johnny and rushes forward, shutting the door behind him.
“Y’ alrigh’? Why’r’ ya crying?” Simon asks, looking me down at Johnny with a concerned gaze in his eyes.
Johnny shakes his head. “N-nothing to worry abou’, l.t. Go back to bed.”
“Nonsense.” Simon sits down on the edge of the bed, his hand on Johnny’s knee.
Johnny sighs. He tells Simon what’s bothering him, what’s been bothering him for ages it feels like. He can’t stop picturing the future, the uncertainty of all of their lives. Can’t stop picturing the vision of Simon’s brain everywhere, of Price’s, of Kyle’s. He wonders what it feels like to die, if it hurts, how much time is left on the clock for him.
Simon gapes in horror at what Johnny says. This is what’s keeping him up? He’ll have none of that.
“More n’ likely you’ll die from not doin’ ur job right due to sleep deprivation,” Simon says, “need to get to bed and think rationally in the morning.”
“I-I know, god- fuck- I know-“ Johnny pinches the bridge of his nose and shivers like a leaf in the wind.
“Hey,” Simon says softly, “You’re alright, Johnny. Nothings coming to get you.”
Johnny chuckles. “Right now. But there’s a bullet out there with my name-“
“There’s not,” Simon interrupts, “and if there is, I’ll scratch it out and write mine on there instead. Don’t worry about a thing.”
“You’re alrigh’, Safe n’ sound on base. Don’t worry about the unknown right now, Johnny. You’ll be alright. Everythin’s gonna work itself out.”
Johnny nods and gulps, his spit sticky and thick.
He’s still shaking. Simon takes note of this and quickly scoots Johnny over, laying next to him and bundling himself up in the blankets while holding his arms open to cuddle. Johnny stares at him, but accepts, nuzzling his face into his lieutenants warm chest.
For the first night in a while. His panic attack ceases, and he’s able to get a decent nights sleep.
Maybe he and Simon should sleep next to each other more often.
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