Chapter Text
Vessel could not remember a time when He wasn’t with him. Being a vessel for Sleep was like having tinnitus—His voice came as a constant low hum most of the time, but other times it would turn into a quiet, high pitched ringing depending on the urgency of His message. Ultimately, Vessel was grateful for Him, he had to be. He had given him a second chance, an outlet to do what he truly desired as long as he spread His word. It was a fair deal. Although, after a few years, Vessel grew tired of His constant buzzing in his skull. There has never been a moment of quiet in that mind of his, and he was beginning to feel like he needed to get a lobotomy.
The only time he experienced the quiet was when he began to dream about you. Vessel knew that you were having the same dreams, so he had to be careful. He had to let Sleep guide him—pretend as if he had no control over his actions within the dreams. He was a vessel after all. He wasn’t entirely comfortable with it, he knew you weren’t like those other people—he knew you were real. He could feel your presence, which is why he felt uncomfortable with the way He would act with you. You were a real person, not an illusion like all the other dreams he’s had. Vessel can’t help but feel protective of you.
He sits up in bed and rubs his eyes, breathing deeply as he clenches and unclenches his fists. The buzzing is back, it’s low this time. Vessel wants to cry, He is very demanding today.
Prepare.
What He means to say is ‘get ready, they need to see you again.’ And who is Vessel to deny you of that? Or deny himself, for that matter. He doesn’t bother to look at himself in the mirror, he hasn’t felt the need to in years, since he became a vessel. Although… He will be seeing you today. He looks up as he washes his hands, narrowing his eyes at himself. It feels vain, he looks away. He glances up again, drying his hands. He leans closer to the mirror, what was he doing? You won’t even be seeing his face. He looks away and that’s final. Sleep is speaking to him as he begins to paint himself, He is sharing what He’s learned about you, Vessel feels uncomfortable, but he has no say in the matter.
Vessel has the urge to know you. Yes, it may have something to do with the fact that you’re the first follower he’s met that was not also a vessel—and you were the first person Sleep let him get close to. But his intentions are his own—although they may be confused with His, Vessel knew you were to be protected. From Him. Even after meeting for two times in person, you have already begun to change Vessel’s views of Him—he had been skeptical after a couple of years, you were the push he needed to begin to further question Sleep’s true intentions.
Vessel often wondered if Sleep even understood his thoughts. When he thought about completely disregarding Him, when he thought about finding a different God to pray to. Sleep never changed his behavior towards his loyal vessel, so perhaps He wasn’t able to read his thoughts after all? Of course, Vessel would never speak his concerns aloud, he feared what He may do—should he ever find out.
He sits in the spot, his painted fingertips toying with the grass as he watches the ripples the wind makes in the water. Sleep’s whispers and whistles and humming go silent. It’s jarring, it had never happened so quickly before, it feels like his eardrum went out. But no. It’s just you. You sit beside him and strangely, he turns to you. You jump instinctively. He turns away quickly and apologizes.
“Sorry. Some things have changed.” He says, staring at the water again.
He feels his heart begin to race when you speak, he thinks about how your voice feels like music. You speak, “what…? Does He not want me anymore?”
He laughs, he can see you look down out of the corner of his eye. He knows you’re embarrassed. He reassures you, “on the contrary.”
“Oh… That’s good.” You say. Vessel slowly turns to you again. He can see you squint—you’re searching for his eyes behind his mask. He doesn’t let you find them. You get close, but you quickly lose them. He can’t fight the smile that creeps up to his lips. “Are you messing with me?”
“No.” He says quickly, he looks away. The truth is that he enjoys your presence, he doesn’t know what to say—he’s basking in the quiet you give him. He hums, it’s a thinking hum. It turns into a musical hum. He can feel you leaning closer, he stops. “He said you wanted to see me.”
“How did He know that?”
“He watches you.” He regrets saying that. He can practically feel the air around the two of you shift—you’re uncomfortable, he wants to apologize. You don’t give him the chance.
“Oh… All the time?”
“If you’re wondering whether or not He shows me what you’re doing at all times, He doesn’t. But He is a God, of sorts. He watches all of his loyal followers.”
You keep staring down, he looks at you. He speaks up again. “I’m sorry.”
“For what?” You don’t look up.
“Making you uncomfortable.”
You shake your head, reassuring him. “You didn’t do anything.”
He wonders if you feel what he feels. This pull. This desire to protect. To shield. He knows it isn’t coming from Sleep because His voice has gone—it’s just you and him, now. The pull feels like an obligation when you’re away, but now, sitting beside each other, Vessel feels like he wants to keep you safe. He wants you to be by his side. He wants you to help him distance himself from this disrespectful God he has dedicated his life to. He knows you are the key.