When you can't sleep
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Did Gary have anything left in him? Did he want to be here anymore?
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Little Molly thought what was something innocent and fun would merely be a joke, but boy was she wrong.
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The water is filling his lungs.
He scrunches his eyes to fight off the salt already burning deep up his nose, threatening to flood his whole body as he sinks, sinks…
He could swim up, but he doesn’t. He could be scared, but he isn’t. He’s resigned to die. To be buried in the cold, dark ocean, and become one of the many forgotten things that call it their tomb.
He’s sinking, deeper and deeper, feeling his body go stiff as the icy darkness wraps around his limbs.
The last blue light of the surface has abandoned him.
And he can’t be sad, can he? He knows that he chose this, after all. Even if he can’t remember it. Even if the tiniest inkling of regret is creeping up on him with each bit of light lost.
He goes limp, parting his lips to let the water in. -
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‘You were very clear about what you did and didn’t want to happen while we’re on tour,’ II says, ashing the cigarette as he eyes Vessel.
‘I changed my mind,’ Vessel says in one gushing breath. II snorts.
‘Oh, you did?’ II says, smirking at him. ‘Well, maybe you need to change mine too.’
Vessel interrupts II and III on a smoke break.
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They stay that way for a long time, Catra’s face tucked into Adora’s shoulder, Adora gently cradling Catra’s head. Adora is careful not to hug Catra too hard or make her feel restrained, anticipating the moment that Catra will start to pull away — but Catra doesn’t. She hangs on so tightly it hurts, her claws digging through Adora’s jacket and into her back, latching into her like she did when she was a kitten and didn’t know how much her claws could hurt. Adora tries not to wince, tries not to move a single muscle, worried that if she does the spell will break and Catra will struggle away, appalled at having shown weakness.
But Catra doesn’t let go. And so neither does Adora.
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Sleep lacked for nothing. He had a fulfilling job, a kind but strict boss, a soft bed waiting for him on his days off, at least one friend in the form of the realm’s rebellious prince, a friendly relationship with the realm’s most beautiful and commanding fury, and a brother who cared enough to visit once in a while. Realistically, he had everything he could ask for. Yet, as he thickened the lines of a bat he had just sketched into the decorative border he was constructing, his mind drifted to the last dream he had traveled in. The warmth of the fire and the loving gaze of the mother as she looked upon her sons.
He remembered the mortal mother’s eyes and his heart ached. He tried to imagine Thanatos laughing with him, but the image left him empty.
At the end of his shift a strange voice called out to him, beckoning him to the elder sigil in the back of the administrative chamber. Perhaps his extended family could help him find what was missing.
Series
- Part 1 of Sleep Did Not Dream