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Isn’t it a curious thing, when you’re trapped in a dream? No control, no logic, there’s just nothing you can do about what goes on in your sleeping mind.
The last few weeks have been… Interesting, to say the least. The reality outside of your sleeping mind has been more than a little hectic, with weeks on weeks of stress and planning, only for them to be tossed out the window yesterday. Inside your head… it hasn’t been better. So many different places your mind has tossed you the past few weeks, so many different stories and…
One other person. Just one.
You don’t know why it’s just him and why they started and you don’t exactly know how to deal with it either. They start out so normal - they take place on a fog covered beach, or in a snowy field or surrounded by the soft murmur of water lapping at the docks of Jyyr’s Bay and the smell of wet wood as you walk through the streets. They’re quiet places, places you’re comfortable in, where you don’t have to be on your toes all the time. Places you know and places you think maybe he’d like too. They're places you'd like to share with him, little secrets so he can know you better and hopefully - someone else would like them too. They’re all empty of course - but not always. Sometimes there’s other trolls but they’re not important to you, not like the troll you always run into.
Dark skin. Curly hair. The soft indent of a dimple from a smile that eats away the cold that clutches your bones. A soft flutter of fins and thick fabric coats that’s inviting, like a blanket. There’s words exchanged sometimes. Sometimes he just watches you and smiles, sometimes you’re the one picking him up from the beach where he stood, waiting for you to come by on a boat. Then, the two of you just… Sit. You talk. There’s stars above the two of you and you discuss you, him, what you like and what you don’t. The two of you just talk about whatever topics come to mind from what was going on on the planet beneath your feet to space above your heads. It’s nice. It’s calm and the two of you are enjoying yourselves. You’re elbow to elbow and that’s alright because the closeness doesn't bother you. He’s cool against your side but in a way that’s nice to feel. You’re both all smiles and soft words, comfortable and easy going, scooting closer and closer as the early morning mist closes in and knuckles bump against knuckles -
Is it weird? You think it is, to dream so often of your friend like this and you berate yourself every morning before you fuss with Dennel and Sipara for being so fucking weird about this (but that’s only after you take a few minutes to mull over it and savor the warmth inside your chest. Who knew the feeling of metal fingers sliding between your own would make your chest ache so much?). You tried, briefly, to figure out if this was just your mind aching for affection and calm in the middle of all this bullshit happening in Temasek, but your fake handle and faux situational questions posed to a group is only so effective in gathering the answers you were looking for. They might assure you that it’s not necessarily bad to dream about that, but it doesn’t negate the fact that you keep wishing you had a hand in yours. Platonic or not, you’re pretty sure that’s weird and would make anyone uncomfortable.
So, you try to avoid thinking about it. It doesn't always work, not when it's seeping in through your dreams.
At least this time when you dream, you don’t think he’s here. You’re somewhere new tonight. Somewhere dark, somewhere that smelled like sea and wood and coffee grounds. It’s dark, wet, and the crackle of ozone around you is a telltale sign of the storm that’s outside. You can see the clouds from where you stood after all with how they rolled and coiled around each other like a nest of snakes and each lick of lighting was a tongue tasting for any unfortunate soul caught outside without cover.
Lucky for you, you were holed up somewhere, well, relatively safe - and it’s not the calm, quiet landscapes you’ve come to expect. It's quiet, sure, but not like how the fields outside of your wrigglerhood hive were quiet. But either way, you're pretty sure you're safe despite it.
It’s a hive, you think. It’s big, spacious, with old, ancient wood groaning under your heel and a scant layer of water - sea water? - sloshing across the wood like it was a ship out at sea. You can see the remnants of furniture scattered across the floor and some coral jammed into a corner where it creeps across the wall. There’s a shelf off to the side with just a few books left open with cracked spines and the pages flipping in the wind but you can’t recognize where they’re from. Do you know them? It’s hard to tell but something tells you they’re full of numbers and diagrams and charts on ships both old and new. Past that though, past the bookshelf is what used to be a balcony - and you say used to because there, the wooden floor abruptly gives away just three feet past the shelf. It’s almost like something massive came in and grabbed a handful of the wooden floor and ripped it away, leaving jagged wounds where it used to be. Single planks reached out into the grey sea air and just past the tips, you can see the churning of an angry ocean far, far, far below.
There’s a crack of lightning and the rumble of thunder and you glance up into the sky as you walk past the shelf. The roof is missing too, right behind the shelf. Entire chunks of wall and roofing is gone and the clouds writhed and tasted the air in anticipation for you to step out into the rain. It’s waiting, but you’re not dumb enough to do that. You don’t know what’s going on here, exactly, but that much you know.
Lightning cracks and lights up dark room but you ignore it as you step through. There’s a couch, just past the shelf. It’s big, black and cushioned and there’s salt crystals growing across it. It’s ruined now but as you pass it, you brush your fingers against small blotches of strawberry blood on the arm rest.
Wait.
You stop and study it for a moment. It’s a very familiar pattern, all faded like it’s been scrubbed at and with a jolt you look up and look at where you are again.
Of fucking course it’s Vadaya’s hive. The blood spot is too recognizable as your own when you were stuck as a fucking invalid on his couch for weeks. Why the fuck wouldn’t it be? It’s practically stressful to know you’re having one of these dreams again. Haven’t you had enough? Haven’t you lied awake wondering what you were thinking for long enough? Since when did he not crop up in some way in your mind now? It’s almost starting to become a fact of life at this point. Really, you’re going to have to figure out what to do with this shit and stop it. It's frustrating even in this dreamscape and you rub at the bridge of your nose as you drag your nails across the blood spot to move on.
There’s a table on the far side of the hive, as you wander over. It’s all sleek and black and shining with condensation and there’s tell-tale lumps of barnacles crusted on the bottom but its familiar, just like the couch and the kitchen. Which is… Well, it’s well taken care of, surprisingly. There’s no salt or water or coral crusted across things.
You step up to run a finger across the immaculate counter and somewhere behind the coffee maker, there’s the soft sound of a hermit crab unfurling from its shell. It’s cute, actually, you muse as you watch its little legs lift the shell upright and it started to crawl. It’s tempting to pick it up and take it home, wherever that was now.
“A brave little creature,” A voice sounded off next to you and you jump as one dark, metal hand reached forward towards the crab. The pads of fake fingers prod at the thing’s legs and after a moment of hesitation, it climbs into his palm.
Vadaya pull back as you turn to face him. He's… Exactly as you expect him to look like. If he’s been affected by the brine in his hive, he doesn’t look like it. No, he looks untouched in his plain black sweater and slacks as he studies the crab, one fin flicking in curiosity as it clambered around. “Brave of it to travel so far, where it does not belong. Do you think it knows it can not survive here?”
You stare at him for a moment and violet eyes flick up to meet yours. There’s something in your stomach that twists when you stare at him and you just shrug as you try to keep your face from flushing. “I’m not sure it knows better,” You venture out. “It’s just a crab. They just travel to where it wants to go, for better or for worse.”
The dimple is back. Only one side of his mouth curls into a smile and he chuckles as he reaches up into the cabinet for a mug. “For better or for worse indeed.” It takes a moment to coax the crab into the cup but once it slides in, it seems to settle like it knew it was safe. “So far from home, yet unafraid,” Vadaya murmurs as he stares at it. You can’t help but sidle up to him, peering into the cup with him.
“It’ll find its way at some point,” You say back and you glance up at him just as he does too. "They're hardy creatures and rarely know what's out there that can stop them."
Something’s different. His eyes seem softer - a bit more longing? It makes something smolder inside of you even as he leaned closer. He was almost touching you now - no, he was. The ozone is crackling around you again, but it’s not like the usual crackle before lightning strikes. It’s not a psionic crackle either but before you can puzzle it out, there’s the sensation of a metal arm sliding into your jacket and behind your back. It’s gentle but persistent as it tugs you in closer and you’d gasp if his head wasn’t tilting down towards yours.
Lips met lips and for a moment, you’re fairly sure everything else blinked out of existence. All that was left was the icy metal bleeding through your shirts and his equally cold skin brushing against yours in a swipe of a thumb against your cheek. Or, maybe its your thumb against his cold cheek. Both? Possibly, but all you know is that your arms are up around his neck and they’re pulling him in closer. He’s tugging you closer too and there’s a brief moment where you both part with a gasp and -
And you wake up.
You start awake with a rattling gasp of your own and sweat slicked hair stuck to your cheek. There’s a roaring in your ears but its not from a storm or rain - it’s your blood rushing through your veins. If you didn’t know better, you’d be sure your heart was trying to beat its way out of its chest.
Why wouldn’t it? You’d fucking pay for that right now. Let it dig its way out of your chest and kill you, you were just dreaming of kissing your friend. This was - this was a lot more than hand holding and little friendly gestures of platonic affection. This was something deeper than that, something more that burned in your heart and made you want to just roll over and go back to dreaming. But you won’t. God no.
This is fucking stupid, you thought and you dug your nails into your palms. What were you, five sweeps old?! There was absolutely no reason that you should be this freaked out by a fucking dream and there’s even less reason as to why you decided to have a stupid dream about - about this. Maybe you’ve gone too long without sharing your bed with someone. Maybe that’s why your mind is trying to pair you up with anyone that comes up. That and the jokes and the silent judgements from others about your relationship with him.
Yeah. That must be it. This was just… a one off mistake. There’s nothing to take from it besides from damn, you need to get laid and damn, you need people to stop talking about you and him.
… But even as you sat there, one hand rising to your lips, you can already tell you that’s not the case. The dream replays itself in your head over and over and every time Vadaya speaks your heart aches. Every time he glances at you and sharp violet meets yours, your stomach turns. Every time his lips meets yours, your heart beats faster.
It’s still beating fast.
Shaky fingers press up harder against your lips as you consider the dream again and again and again. There’s no way it means something, you tell yourself. You're trying to believe it, trying to wrap it around you like a comforting blanket. There’s no way that this wasn’t anything else than your mind fucking with you. It had no meaning, it was just a dream. You’ve been stress dreaming for something more comforting in life and last you remember, you had chatted with Vadaya until you fell asleep on your cot. That’s why he showed up. That’s why you dreamt this. Right?
(But the kiss was sweet. It fed a part of you that rarely burned and never once in this flushed sort of heat that colored your cheeks and some part of you wanted to go back to sleep to finish the dream and kiss him more because where else would you get that? Not here in the real life.)
You inhaled sharp and deep again as you rub your face, trying to control the chaos inside of your head. Your phone is next to you, lost in the blankets, and you’re quick to close out the chat with him before you can see another glimpse of violet. It’s almost night again though. Not long enough to be worth going to sleep again but you’re just… Exhausted.
You fall back against the pillow again and groan as the events from the past few days hit you again. Hadean, Dennel, the jades and the rebels and Sipara’s shit plans - You can feel the threads of stress start winding around you again and your shoulders are already getting tense again.
… You know what? Fuck this. Fuck this night already. Hadean won’t be rescued tonight and you toss your phone onto the duffel bag of clothes next to your cot and turn over.
If you’re going to have a shit night anyway - and you can feel one creeping up on you - you might as well do something stupid and indulge yourself. And sometimes? Indulging yourself meant rolling the fuck back over with a hand against your lips and quietly, oh so quietly, wonder what it’d take to feel those cool, soft lips up against yours in real life.