28

                                    

                                          
Sorry for this chapter. Honestly, it's pretty much filler. Gottta have something between point A and point B.



                          
Anyway.



                          
*** ***



                          
            
                          
I'm awakened by the beanbag chair shifting beneath me.
                          
I sleepily roll onto my back, his arm still pinned under my neck.
                          
His breathing is slow, even. Soothing.
                          
I close my eyes again, sighing contently as I sink back into sleep.
                          
Something jerks me back into consciousness. I lay still, my heart pounding and eyes wide open as I try to figure out what happened.
                          
And then he twitches again, lips moving silently as if mouthing words.
                          
Not any words that I can recognize.
                          
"Jamison," I murmur, sitting up and touching his shoulder. "Jamison, wake up."
                          
He doesn't respond. His lips keep moving, whispers of words now leaving them.
                          
"Jamison." I shake him again, but it only seems to egg him on.
                          
He continues to mumble for a few more long minutes, and then he falls silent again.
                          
I'm unable to go back to sleep, so I settle for curling up against his side, fitting perfectly.
                          
Eventually he sucks in a deep breath, the kind that you take when you first wake up and makes you shiver in bliss. He lifts his head slightly, and I can see that his eyes are still swollen from crying.
                          
"Good morning," I say.
                          
"Morning," he replies. It comes out all gravelly. "Sorry about last night."
                          
"You don't need to be sorry. It's fine. That's what friends are for."
                          
"Witnessing mental breaks?"
                          
"Exactly."
                          
"Well... Thank you. I couldn't have hoped for a better person to witness my mental break."
                          
"You're welcome." I shift my head from his bicep to his chest. "You had to deal with mine, so it's only fair."
                          
He laughs.
                          
We lapse into silence again, but I can feel his fingers in my hair. It's oddly comforting.
                          
"We should probably find the others," I say when the quiet starts to feel suffocating. 
                          
"If you want." He somehow manages to get up without looking like a total idiot. Seriously though, can anyone actually get out of a beanbag chair without making a fool of themselves?
                          
I can't.
                          
He grabs my wrist to pull me up, and I still manage to flop around like a fish out of water as I struggle to my feet.
                          
He laughs, not quite as freely as he used to, but it's better than nothing.
                          
"Don't laugh at me, you jerk."
                          
"Then don't do that." His old smirk is back, but only for a moment.
                          
I offer him a small smile of my own before taking his hand and pulling him along with me.



                          
***



                          
"Lis has another headache," Sander whispers, having pulled us aside. "I'm not gonna make her walk God knows how far with one of her migraines. We'll go as soon as she's feeling better."