NIGHTMARE

"I thought it was a nightmare," Jake whispered through the bars of the cell holding Augustus Rookwood--his best friend, his lover, his everything. Settling his knees on the floor, he gripped the bars tightly as he settled his face against them, the sorrow dripping from him with every passing moment. There were dementors dragging themselves around, haunting other inmates who screamed in their madness whenever they grew close. It pained Jake to think that somewhere in this prison were other friends. And while the man in front of him was the one who had helped people kill his best friend--had helped kill plenty of others--he couldn't help but love him regardless. Tears slid down his face and he hid it from Augustus, turning around, away from the cell. He squared his shoulders and avoided any kind of direct eye contact with anyone.

No one really went to Azkaban unless they had to. People begged not to be taken there. People begged not to feel what Jake was so overwhelmed with right then. But he'd felt worse things--the death of his parents, the death of Katie, the deaths of so many students. The pain of Augustus being locked away was just another piece of the puzzle of the agony that had become his life. Really, he didn't have to worry about them because he was already at despair's door for most of his existence.

"Wright," Rookwood called through the cell, his voice feeble.

Jake refused to turn. "No. I shouldn't have come."

Moving forward, somehow, August reached carefully through the bars, resting one shaking hand on Jake's leg--the only part of the man he could reach. "Jake--just listen."

He stopped, standing completely still, his heartbeat wrecking him on the inside. Each pulse brought on intense tremors that radiated through his entire body. The shaking made the other man let him go. They both needed each other so desperately, and yet, could do nothing in each other's company. Jake felt like sobbing. "I wish every morning that I'll wake up and this will all just be some fantastic nightmare, Augustus. I wish every fucking morning. I come here twice a week and every time, I'm worse off than if you were dead. I can't handle it. I can't!" He brought his hands up and over his ears, giving his head a quick shake. He couldn't look at him. He couldn't. His heart was breaking all over again.

"Go home, Jake," Augustus ordered. He needed this man as much as he needed food or air or water. He needed him like he needed a heartbeat and a brain. But he couldn't stand to see him in pain. "Please," he pleaded, recoiling to the back of the tiny cell. "Please just go."