Work Text:
Of Innocence and Empathy: A Demon of Empathy
by Frogg
Derek fought his way out of the tangle of sheets to sit on the edge of the bed, chest heaving from remembered panic, a specter of terror left behind. Swallowing against the rawness in his throat, he scrubbed at burning eyes and willed his racing heart to calm, breath to slow.
The clock showed 3:18 a.m.
"He's not dead," Derek whispered to himself, a shudder ripping through him at the word. "Not..." He swallowed again, knowing he'd blown his voice screaming in a nightmare the likes of which he hadn't had since before he and Spencer had first started rooming together.
First started guarding each other's dreams.
Spencer had always woken him long before that point.
Derek reached for the phone, then stopped. Spencer was probably in a drugged sleep. Or he'd read Derek's number on the caller ID. Either way, he wouldn't pick up.
And hearing Spencer's voice wasn't going to be enough.
Not now.
Choking with guilt and pain, Derek threw jeans and a t-shirt on and grabbed the key to Spencer's apartment off the dresser.
~~~the end~~~