Yeah, oi, I kinda dipped, and I'm sorry, but the tasks I need to complete in order to get my master's degree in July are overwhelming. I won't be able to take a breather till June 19, so the updates are super chaotic and I can't post my new work yet
-1-
She's haunted by everything that happened today, the anvil of guilt settling deep in her stomach. No matter what she tried to do to quiet her ragged nerves, she remained on edge, unable to get any rest. Tossing and turning, all she sees when she closes her eyes is Claire. In each of these scenarios, she's late to the rescue, regardless of her staunch determination to make it right this time. Too much blood. Gillian was by no means scared of blood. Vice versa, once she considered changing her major and going to nursing school. Would've been useful, wouldn't it? Some psychologist she is! She never seems to ease the burden of the ones closest to her; her own torments are suffocating.
Gillian sighs deeply, trying to shake off the pictures of every shade of red possible from her head. She takes a phone in her hand, and a cold blue light illuminates her face. 1:00 a.m. She knows he will pick it up. He does so unquestionably if the call is from someone familiar. Well, especially if she's the one calling. She still hesitates. Nothing magical can be done. While she's thinking it over, her body acts on autopilot. 3 short beeps.
"Cal…"
-2-
He sits in the living room, pouring himself a glass of wine. He wishes he had a stronger beverage, though it's probably for the best that he doesn't. After his confession to Emily, he went to bed, but to no surprise, he drowned in nightmares again. They started several months ago. The more he dismissed Gillian, the more intense the dreams got. Cradling her lifeless form in his arms repeatedly is the death of him. He was sure a wall kept her safe. He struggled to admit she'd forever be in danger. Her meeting him is a mistake, even if to Cal Gillian is an angel sent from heaven. He could never give her peace, and through distance, he gifted her a chance at true happiness. In Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind (yes, Gillian and Emily persuaded Cal to watch it), the main characters had their memories erased (or something; he doesn't care about those bonkers). He'd agree to do the same for her own sake.
Suddenly, the ringing of his phone brought him back to reality; her name was on the screen. He allows it to buzz for a bit, frozen.
"I'll be there in a jiffy, darlin'."
He's glad he's sober enough.
-3-
She opens the front door the moment he's at her steps, like she carefully calculated the timing of his arrival. His brain isn't processing what's unfolding because she instantly clings to him as he enters the house, barely managing to mutter the usual "You okay, love?". He gently hugs her, feeling the tension gradually subside. It's not until later on that she grows slightly self-conscious with the vehemence of her actions.
"I'm sorry," she rambles.
"Nah, that's alright. I shouldn't have left you alone tonight."
She touches his chest, grounding herself in the present instead of the past. He hopes she notices the frantic rhythm his heart beats for her.
"So," Gillian pauses. "You weren't sleeping either?"
Cal nods. "Had a bad dream."
"Oh, tell me about it!" She joked. "Do you want a drink?"
"I'll 'ave a cuppa."
"O…okay," she giggles, bewildered by his answer.
"See?" He points at her face. "That's a smile. I like that; it suits you."
He follows her to the kitchen, where she puts the kettle on. They stand mere centimeters away, surrounded by obsolete silence, waiting for it to boil. Taking a whistling kettle from the stove, Gillian unintentionally burns herself, lost in thoughts. She reacts in slow motion. Cal quickly wets a napkin in cold water, applies it to her palm, and softly takes her hand in both of his.
"You want to talk about it, love?"
"It's only a blister."
"Gill…"
Oh, how she missed this genuine trepidation in his gaze.
"I feel…I feel like I'm failing," she bites her lip.
"At what, darlin'?"
She wavers. "At my job."
"What do you mean? You're brilliant!"
"Stop it, Cal," she blushes.
"Do you see any signs of a lie? Look…I…You're bloody marvellous. Always has been, always will be. Without you, we would've been burned to ashes already."
"It's not that…I can't help people. I can't help anyone, including myself."
Hearing the last part of the sentence caused him to be alert and agitated.
"Nonsense," he exclaimed, determination evident in his voice.
"I need to do better as a therapist."
"It's about Claire, is it? You did a lot!"
"Not just her. I continue to intellectualize my emotions. I'm exhausted."
"Let it out," Cal murmurs, embracing her as sobs wrack her body. "I'm here for you," he whispers, stroking her on the back. "Sleep does wonders; never trust yourself in sleep deprivation; believe me on this one."
A chuckle escapes her mouth, vibrating on his shoulder. "I'm not certain I'm able to. My head is pounding."
"Try. I'll watch you."
"Now that's creepy."
"Oi! You're just chickening out," he said, wiggling his eyebrows.
She let go of him to pull him upstairs to her bedroom.
He vows to not let her slip into depression, whatever it costs him.