Johnny does wake up. Maybe it's self-induced, or a bodily reaction to the loss of contact, but in the next instant he's staring up at his ceiling, sweatsoaked, heart pounding. Again.
He sits up, rolls out of bed, moves on shaky legs to the kitchen, where he drinks two straight glasses of water, pausing to cough violently in between. He collapses partway, leaning his arms on the counter, resting his head. Images of Gabriel's eyes, looking dark and cold and so, so wrong, flash past, and he pushes himself back up, as though rejecting the countertop itself.
"Fuck," he mutters.
He could go to Gabriel right now. Ask him about Topher, about being an angel, about everything. Did Topher mention the TARDIS? Doesn't even make sense. Feels more like a particularly grim nightmare, all jumbled nonsense, the more he thinks about it.
No. He doesn't want to ask. If it was just lies in his head, then why repeat them? Why let Gabe know he's inventing such dark shit in his dreams?
If it was true...
There had to be a reason. Gabriel would have a good reason.
This is stupid. He pushes the thoughts away as best he can. Goes to the window and lights himself a cigarette -- takes him four tries to light it, his hands are trembling so bad. He sits and smokes. It was just a dream. It was just a dream.
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He sits up, rolls out of bed, moves on shaky legs to the kitchen, where he drinks two straight glasses of water, pausing to cough violently in between. He collapses partway, leaning his arms on the counter, resting his head. Images of Gabriel's eyes, looking dark and cold and so, so wrong, flash past, and he pushes himself back up, as though rejecting the countertop itself.
"Fuck," he mutters.
He could go to Gabriel right now. Ask him about Topher, about being an angel, about everything. Did Topher mention the TARDIS? Doesn't even make sense. Feels more like a particularly grim nightmare, all jumbled nonsense, the more he thinks about it.
No. He doesn't want to ask. If it was just lies in his head, then why repeat them? Why let Gabe know he's inventing such dark shit in his dreams?
If it was true...
There had to be a reason. Gabriel would have a good reason.
This is stupid. He pushes the thoughts away as best he can. Goes to the window and lights himself a cigarette -- takes him four tries to light it, his hands are trembling so bad. He sits and smokes. It was just a dream. It was just a dream.