Chapter Text
Meta awoke lying on a cold floor, and he quickly scrambled to his feet. The room he was in was massive, so massive that the edges were obscured from view by a haze that seemed to hang in the air. Meta looked down and paled a little as he caught sight of himself in the reflective floor. The uniform he was wearing was emblazoned with a familiar symbol, and he tore off the overcoat, tossing it away. His wings were out, and he could neither sense his pocket dimension nor the calming warmth of Galaxia. He walked forward, allowing the claws tipping his fingers to fully extend out. Even without his weapons, Meta was still capable of defending himself.
He walked forward, staying completely alert and ready for attack. Even Meta’s glowing eyes failed to allow him to pierce through the gloom, but he could faintly make out something as he continued forward. A throne-like chair came into view, and Meta almost froze in place as he recognized it. He squinted, realizing that while it was similar to the one he remembered, this one was far smaller. It had four metal wings jutting from the back, and it was flanked by two black statues. Meta’s eyes widened as he inspected the statues.
They were of Meta, but they were off. The statues had four wings, just like the throne, and they were clad in intricately carved armor that Meta had never worn. Small horns jutted up from the statue’s forehead, and the visor in front of the statue’s unnervingly realistic eyes was made of tinted glass. Meta turned and spotted a massive painting hanging behind the throne, and he backed away, horrified. It showed him in the same ensemble that the statues wore, staring out from the painting with a malicious smirk. Behind him, with a hand on his shoulder, stood…
“Do you like it?” a voice whispered, cold breath brushing past Meta’s ear. A large hand rested on his shoulder, and his entire body felt like ice.
“No!” he cried, awaking for real this time. He sat up in bed, breathing heavily. Something stirred beside him, and he had a moment of panic before he remembered where he was. He looked down and was relieved to see that Dark was still fast asleep. There was no need to trouble him with his dreams, but Meta still needed to clear his head. He turned and swung his legs over the side of the bed, standing and walking silently over to where the silver light of the moon was streaming in. The carpeting of Dark’s room was plush and soft, and it muffled Meta’s movements as he walked onto the balcony.
Dreadland was always rather cold, but he welcomed the bite of the night air on his skin. It chased away any lingering drowsiness, and with it the possibility of another nightmare. He walked to the wrought iron railing and rested his hands on the cold metal, looking out over the city below. It was lit with twinkling yellow lights and still alive with activity even at this late hour, with little crowds of people bustling around the nightlife district alongside cars meandering through the cobblestone streets. It had taken time to adjust to the bustling nature of Glass City verses the idyllic calm of Dreamland’s towns, but it was calming in its own way. He found it to be much like watching the mechanisms of a well-maintained machine, but it couldn’t even touch his stress tonight. Meta’s breath fogged in the air as he sighed.
He was no stranger to nightmares, and if he was honest, he’d probably played a starring roll in a fair few nightmares himself. But he’d grown used to the brand of nightmares he usually suffered, and while they often woke him, they no longer lingered in his mind. These were entirely new and novel in how they unnerved him, and they’d kept him rather sleep deprived for a few weeks now. He wondered what had even set them off in the first place. One of his pointed ears flicked as he heard the soft sound of bare feet on stone.
“Isn’t it a bit late to be brooding dramatically?” Dark teased, sidling up beside Meta and leaning on the railing. His silk robe fluttered in the breeze, and Meta wondered if he could even feel the cold.
“Yes, well, I would rather be sleeping,” Meta sighed. Dark turned to look at him. His pale skin almost glowed in the moonlight.
“Can’t sleep?”
“No. I’ve not the faintest clue why,” Meta lied. It was an easy lie due to how much he’d told it lately.
“Nervous for tomorrow?” Dark asked. Meta tapped at the railing.
“Perhaps that is it. Social events aren’t exactly my forte,” he said, already feeling guilt weigh on his mind for the continued lie. Dark gave him a gentle smile.
“Hey, you’ll do fine. Trust me, I need someone there to cut through the pompous bullshit people try to pull,” he said, nudging Meta.
“I do enjoy knocking impudent royalty down a peg,” he replied, giving Dark the faintest of smirks. Dark playfully smacked his arm.
“Hey!” he squawked in mock offense. He waited until just after Meta would expect retaliation. “Though I have to say I enjoy your methods,” he added, making sure Meta was looking at him when he waggled his eyebrows. This time Dark was on the receiving end of an affronted smack.
“You are incorrigible,” Meta grumbled. Dark slipped an arm around his waist and pulled him closer, his cool breath washing over Meta’s skin as he spoke.
“You love me anyway,” he cooed. Meta’s nose wrinkled.
“You have morning breath, and it isn’t even morning yet,” he deadpanned. Dark gave him a look of disbelief before laughing and resting his head against Meta’s shoulder.
“See, with that sharp tongue of yours a little masquerade will be nothing,” he said, closing his eyes and savoring the quiet moment. Meta draped an arm over his boyfriend’s shoulders, resting his own head against the top of Dark’s. His hair was cool and silky against his cheek.
“I worry that one of the more contentious guests will try something,” Meta said.
Dark let out a breath. “Well, where sharp tongues fail, sharp weapons’ll do.” They stood there for a long while, watching the bustling city and feeling the other at their side. The bright lights dulled the sky above but added their own sort of twinkle to the night. It was different than the gorgeous tapestry of stars Meta would see from his own balcony, but he couldn’t say he found it to be worse. The silence was finally broken when Dark felt Meta shiver.
“Say, if we’re going to not sleep, let’s do it where it’s warmer,” Dark said. Meta shivered again.
“I would prefer that, yes,” he said, and the two separated to walk back inside, shutting the cold out with a click of the sliding door fastening into place. Meta rubbed at his arms, trying to restore some blood flow. “It is difficult to stay warm sometimes with an ice cube for a significant other,” he quipped.
“I do have other ways to warm you up,” Dark purred, putting a hand up before Meta could comment, “But for now resting in a warm bed sounds like the best option.”
“Now you are truly being enticing,” Meta said, walking to the bed and rapidly wriggling under the covers. He frowned when Dark turned on the light, and the man caught his expression.
“I was going to read,” he explained. Meta shook his head.
“You needn’t stay awake for my sake. At least one of us should be well rested.”
Dark checked his clock. “It’s three AM, I wouldn’t be missing too much at this point.” Meta shook his head and gestured for Dark to climb in beside him. He obliged.
“Rest. I will be fine,” he said, pulling Dark closer so he rested flush against his chest. His skin was cold from the night air but was warming slowly from Meta’s body heat. It always fascinated him in the mornings to feel the sections warmed by his skin contrasting with the natural coolness that remained elsewhere on Dark’s body. Like everything else about Dark, he found it to be a sort of otherworldly familiarity.
“You’ll tell me if you need help with it, right?” he asked. Guilt settled in Meta’s chest as he realized he wasn’t sure if he could honor that request.
“Yes,” he said, and he wasn’t sure if it was a lie. He pressed a kiss to the back of Dark’s neck. “Sleep.”
“Alright, alright. So bossy,” Dark replied, shifting a little and settling. “Goodnight darling.”
“Goodnight Dark,” Meta murmured, listening to the slow changes in Dark’s breathing. When it finally stayed even, he dared to let out a tense breath he’d been holding in. He shifted a little, peering into the gloom but not looking at much of anything. Laying in the darkness with only his thoughts made him almost wish he’d been a little more selfish.