She's given up working on the truck.
It's hopeless… I can't get this without Dean and Dean is… well he's Dean.
She props her feet onto the worn out dashboard and leans back in the seat. Late July sunshine beams in through the windshield and kisses her skin. Droopy eyelids begin to close completely. Mai hasn't had a decent night's sleep all week. Every night is the same story, different details. In the end it always adds up to Dean, pain, and a startling set of blue eyes. She can't even define their color. It's so different from Mai's deep dark blue or Jett's glasslike, greenish mixture. These are impossibly blue eyes. They are terrifying and beautiful and pure. Those eyes are a solid, perfect, shining form of blue, which makes her skin crawl at every glance.
"Damn it…"
She won't put herself through that anymore. From now on sleep will be limited. Mai peaks her eyes open a crack and noticed Jett crossing the drive and walking towards her. There's a slight limp in his gait that she had failed to pick out before. The more she thinks about it she begins to recall seeing it before. She chocks it up to a hunting injury.
I chock a lot of things up to "hunting" something or other, don't I?
"Hello" Jett crawls into the passenger side on the bench.
"Hello" she weakly greets, still feeling fatigued.
Mai scratched her nose and bites at her cheek. Jett leans back on the bench, resting his head near hers and looking into her eyes. His blue eyes are far more inviting than those of the mystery dream man. For a second she thinks she could fall asleep because that smell of cigars and Amber is just solicitous enough. Black eyed Dean pops into her head abruptly and she jolts out of her lull.
"You okay?" He asks, noticing her jump.
She doesn't want to talk about it, and she doesn't want him to talk about it. The best way to get through it is to forget about the nightmares.
"Yep." She nods lightly, eyes still drooping.
For a moment it looks like he sees through her quick response, but he doesn't bring it up.
"So… I've been back for almost four days and we haven't left the house." He cracks his knuckles, "Maybe we could go do an activity or something."
Smooth
"We could go the Waffle King." She suggests.
"Yeah but we've done that a couple times, what else is there."
"Um, the field outside of town?"
"Also been there, done that."
"Well what do you want to do then?"
He pursues his lips as he thinks. She begins to feel nervous about his possible suggestion.
"Never mind, staying in is fine."
"Okay…"
Weird
Jett closes his eyes and shifts an inch closer to Mai. Without thinking she slid to the right and presses herself against his chest. Every nerve on every inch of her body touching him prickles. Faint sparks blossom in her skin and melt into comfort. The sun lapped both of them; her forehead rests against his collar bone, his cheek lies on her hair. For a few moments Mai drifts to sleep.
There is no screaming this time. Mai simply slips out of her nightmare like any other dream. Her heartrate is elevated and in the moonlight, her forehead has sheen of sweat. She doesn't bother to move, her fear is still paralyzing. It was more black eyes, blue eyes, and breathless running. She burrows her head under a pillow to drown out the darkness of her room, and contemplates spending the rest of the night in Dean's room.
Wrapped in her comforter, she sneaks into his bedroom. She sets the mug of tea she'd made herself on the nightstand. Mind vibrantly awake and body sluggish, she's not on the fast track to a solid night's sleep. Frustration wells up inside her, but not enough to produce tears. Her frustration increases as she sits on the edge of the bed, on the edge of crying but not crying. She'd give anything for the release of a long sob session. There was always something so pure and beautiful about crying to her. It was as her tears could physically wash away her pain. Crying front of others didn't have the same effect though; it simply made her even more frustrated. Crying in front of someone is worse than being incapable of crying.
"Peace." She says out loud hoping it might come.
Only a few minutes had passed when she slips a record on the player and settles the needle in place. It's Led Zeppelin, Physical Graffiti. Music had helped a little in the past. About halfway into Houses of the Holy, the door opens a crack. Mai jolts her head up from its dropped position. She doesn't say anything as Jett pops his head in and stares at her. She's sitting on the floor with her back against the bedframe; she hopes that the comforter she's wrapped in will live up to its name, but she knows better. Blankets were a poor form of real comfort.
"May I come in?" Jett asks in a gruff and sleepy voice. Mai nods.
Jett wears only a pair of sweatpants, but Mai doesn't give notice. Jett settles down next to her and props his arms on his knees, which causes their shoulders to touch with the blanket between them. For a while he doesn't say anything and she doesn't say anything. Mai's mind wanders back to the night of her birthday; the record player, the darkness, the silence. It was a good memory actually.
"Do you want to talk?" He asks, watching her in his peripheral vision.
She shakes her head.
"Do you need to talk?" He rephrases.
She nods her head.
"Are you afraid?"
She begins to shake her head, but then shrugs.
"I don't know what to say."
She grins a touch. It's amusing to see him try. She forms a sentence and verbalizes.
"I am tired."
"I know."
"…I am scarred."
"About?"
"The monster in my dreams." She said without hesitation.
"I wish I could tell you it's not real…" He whispers
Dean's black eyes and booming voice flash into her memory.
"Me too…"
Jett yawns and Mai realizes just how late it has become. The clock reads 3:16. She lets the record play out but doesn't bother to put on another. Jett pushes himself up and Mai suddenly misses the feeling of his shoulder against hers. She didn't even realize she felt him when he was sitting down, but she definitely feels the loss. It makes her feel alone again.
"Wait." She says to him. He turns around and looks down at her.
She sees him now, unlike when he entered the room minutes ago. He's shirtless, and little faded scares are scattered across his chest like constellations. He's also abnormally skinny for a hunter, she wonders for a moment if he gets enough to eat when he's not with her.
"Yes, Miss Mai?" Jett replies in a soft voice.
"Can you… stay with me?" She asks in a near whisper.
He looks down at her for a moment. Then, wordlessly he crawls onto Dean's bed and lies on his back with his hands clasped together on his stomach. Mai is too tired to doubt herself, fear him, or generally over-think the situation. Sleep deprivation is a powerful social lubricator and remover of inhibitions. She climbed up beside him and mimicked his position.
"What do you think about color?" he asks after a while.
"Um… what?"
"Color. It's fascinating Miss Mai." Jett continues to stare up at the ceiling, "there are colors and hues that we as humans can't even see, but they are out there."
Mai listens.
"Try to imagine a new color, one that you have never seen." He challenges.
Mai frowns in concentration. All she can come up with in her head is various shades of yellow.
"It's impossible," he answers for her, "We will never be able to create new colors in our minds. It's immensely frustrating to me."
"Why?"
"It's like I can't really understand the world around me. How we perceive it isn't how it actually is, there's so much out there that we're blind to. We just have to react and live on what we can see and that's terribly limiting… you know?"
She nods, unsure of why he started this conversation. Jett rolls over on his side and faces her and she tilts her head sideways. Their faces are close enough she can feel his breath on her cheeks.
"Just because you see green, doesn't mean that it's actually green." He focuses on her nose, "It all depends on who's looking at it."
"Yeah." she responds lamely.
"Perception is a powerful thing" he murmurs, "Don't let it limit you."
"You're talking about the dreams aren't you?"
"…depends."
"On what?" she rolls onto her side and rests her head on her arm.
"Whether or not it helps." He mutters with a cocky grin.
"Possibly." She isn't sure if she really understands the parallel or it's applicability to her situation.
Black… Black isn't black? It's all about perception…
"Yeah… possibly…" She whispers with heavy eyes and then she falls asleep with Jett for the second time.
A/N: Back from the dead, back to writing.
You know the story, life, school, technical issues, the usual reason from not writing. I'm back though and I'm feeling good about Safest at Home!
I got my muse back baby!