He would feel bad - terrible - later, not only for knocking her away but for ruining this special night, but right now he could barely think. The sounds were all around him, making him want to curl up tighter, to hide away from them so the Japs couldn't drop their bombs on him, because he so very clearly remembered the terror of those long nights on Guadalcanal when he was sure this would be the last thing he'd ever hear.
But something was pulling at him - not physically, but mentally. His name got his attention, if barely, and he couldn't help but try to make out those words, to find out who was calling him, talking to him through this onslaught. The voice was familiar - Summer, it was Summer, she was talking to him, she was trying to tell him something...
It was absurd, he felt anything but safe, not just from the noise outside but from the noise in his head, trying to drown out his very thoughts, He tried to nod - he wasn't willing to move an inch, couldn't get his arms to unlock or uncover his head, that was beyond his ability to control - but he tried to nod, tried to tell her he heard her, but he couldn't do anything past that, he could only lie there and let this come and try to weather it. Because hot on the heels of the memories of the war, of every awful day and night, something else was trying to break free - other Fourths of July, other fireworks displays, more names and faces and birthdays and Christmases and he couldn't help but let out a small sound, he was starting to think he might really drown and never be able to think a clear thought again.
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But something was pulling at him - not physically, but mentally. His name got his attention, if barely, and he couldn't help but try to make out those words, to find out who was calling him, talking to him through this onslaught. The voice was familiar - Summer, it was Summer, she was talking to him, she was trying to tell him something...
It was absurd, he felt anything but safe, not just from the noise outside but from the noise in his head, trying to drown out his very thoughts, He tried to nod - he wasn't willing to move an inch, couldn't get his arms to unlock or uncover his head, that was beyond his ability to control - but he tried to nod, tried to tell her he heard her, but he couldn't do anything past that, he could only lie there and let this come and try to weather it. Because hot on the heels of the memories of the war, of every awful day and night, something else was trying to break free - other Fourths of July, other fireworks displays, more names and faces and birthdays and Christmases and he couldn't help but let out a small sound, he was starting to think he might really drown and never be able to think a clear thought again.