Chapter 112 Aslan
Aslan
By dinner, I couldn’t wait anymore.
Garrett couldn’t just drop a bomb like that on me and then disappear for almost two days.
I needed to see him.
After all, we had agreed to be friends, and friends checked in on each other. Friends didn’t leave each other alone with things like this.
Part of me also wanted to see Olivia. Maybe it was time to figure out how much she knew and whether there was anyone else who could actually help. So I headed to the cafeteria.
Only when I got there, neither of them was at their usual table.
The place was almost empty, the holiday silence somehow making every sound louder. I picked up some food for myself, but after forcing down a few bites, I gave up.
Lately, eating had become difficult. Sleeping too. Studying was nearly impossible.
Too much had happened.
Too much was spinning inside my head, and none of it came with any clear way to help.
With a sigh, I grabbed another tray and started picking out the things Garrett usually liked—a sandwich. Fruit. Something sweet, then I headed toward his room.
I knocked. No answer. I frowned and waited a second, then knocked again.
Still nothing.
Just as I was about to turn away, I heard something from inside.
A voice. Garrett’s. Not talking, not exactly. More like… strained sounds. Shouting?
What the hell?
I tested the knob, and it was thankfully unlocked. It's been since most of the dorm was empty now. I pushed the door open. The room was dark, except for the low glow of the bedside lamp.
“Garrett?”
I stepped inside and set the tray down on the desk. That was when I saw him.
He was in bed, tangled in the sheets, body twisting against the mattress.
My stomach dropped. “Garrett.”
I moved to the bedside immediately, noticing his face wet with tears.
His eyes were squeezed shut, his breathing ragged, his whole body tense with whatever horror had dragged him under.
This wasn’t just restless sleep. This was a nightmare, and a pretty bad one. “Garrett, wake up.”
I kept my voice low and steady, the same calm tone that had worked before during his panic attack or traumatic episodes.
Not tonight. Tonight he barely registered it.
I reached for his arm, meaning to gently shake him awake, but the second my fingers brushed his skin, he lashed out.
His fist hit my chest hard enough to make me jerk back in surprise.
“Shit.”
It wasn’t the pain that got me. It was the terror in it. He was still asleep. Still trapped in whatever memory had him fighting for his life.
“Hey, Garr.” I leaned closer again, keeping my voice firm but calm. “Wake up. You’re safe.”
He fought me a couple more times as I got near, so I reached for him again, holding his shoulder with a tighter grip this time, but he shoved at my arm blindly, slapping my hand away.
Jesus.
This one was bad.
His hand shot out suddenly and clamped around my forearm with enough force to make me wince. It fucking hurt. I had no choice now.
Before he could swing again—or worse, hurt himself trying to get away from something that wasn’t even there—I moved fast.
I climbed onto the edge of the bed and wrapped both arms around him, pulling him against me, pressing his face into the side of my neck.
He fought immediately. Hands shoving. Pushing. Half-panicked sobs breaking from his throat.
“It’s okay,” I said over and over, holding him as carefully and firmly as I could. “You’re okay. Wake up, Garrett. You’re here. You’re safe.”
He kept struggling.
I shifted, bracing one leg across his hip to keep him from jerking too hard and hitting the cast or reopening any of his injuries.
My heart was pounding.
I pressed my cheek against his damp forehead, his temple, wherever I could reach—not anything intimate, just human contact, instinctive reassurance.
Safety. Warmth. Something real to pull him back.
“Come on, Garr,” I whispered against his hair. “Come back.”
Then suddenly he gasped, his whole body going rigid beneath me as his eyes flew open.
Every feature on his face softened in the span of a heartbeat. His expression shifted from utter terror to confusion, then something that looked dangerously close to relief. His eyes lit up at the realization of who was pinning him down, and for one disorienting second I was almost sure he thought he was still dreaming—that whatever nightmare had been tearing him apart had suddenly taken a different turn. Or worse, maybe he thought it was all real and I had somehow come to save him from it.
“Aslan—it’s you… it’s you…” Garrett breathed, and before I could even react, he surged forward and wrapped his arms around me.
Then his lips were on mine.
It wasn’t heated. It wasn’t one of those sharp, breathless kisses charged with the tension that had always lived between us. This one was different. Softer. Almost loving.
God.
I couldn’t let him do this.
I couldn’t let myself do this.
Trying not to throw him further off balance, I gently caught his shoulders and pulled him back just enough to look at him.
“Garrett—”
“Baby, you found me…” His hands came up to cradle my face, his eyes fixed on me but not fully seeing me. “He locked me up, said I’d never see you again… I knew you’d find me. We need to run—”
Fuck.
He was still dreaming. Still trapped in whatever hell had him convinced this was real.
“Garrett, we’re home. We are—”
But before I could finish, he pulled me in again, kissing me with a new urgency that had nothing to do with desire and everything to do with fear.
“Garrett, no. Listen to me.” I steadied my voice, forcing calm into every word. “We’re in your room. At Crownwell. Remember? It’s winter break. It’s just us. You need to wake up.”
For one terrifying second, he just stared at me, breathing hard and looking completely lost. Then, slowly, the wildness in his eyes began to clear.
“Hey,” I said softly, breathless myself now. “You’re okay.”
His gaze darted around the room, taking in the lamp, the bed, the walls, anything but me as he fought to pull himself back into reality. A shaky hand dragged through his sweat-damp hair.
“Aslan, I—I’m so sorry…”
The look on his face said everything—embarrassment, guilt, shame. Pain…
The horror of realizing he had kissed while lost inside a nightmare, half asleep.
And, God help me, the same guilt was curling inside my own chest for having let it happen, even if only for those few disoriented seconds, while I was wide awake.
It had all happened so fast.
We had both been caught on different sides of the same traumatic moment.
A tear slid down his cheek, and just like that, every awkward thought was pushed aside by the one thing that mattered: he needed me.
“It’s okay, Garr.” My voice softened immediately. “You were having a nightmare, and I was here for you. I’m still here for you.”
I started to shift off him, wanting to give him space now that he was awake, but his hand closed around my thigh.
Not hard. Just enough to stop me.
I looked down at him.
His lips parted. “No, please, Aslan. I…” The words died there, unable to come out.
I softened my voice even more.
“What do you need, Garrett?”