Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

I find myself in a masquerade ball, beautiful strangers twirling around in flamboyant dresses of chiffon pink, blue silk, red velvet. The glint of a smile or the flash of a bracelet is but all that I catch before they spin away, facing a new partner. I find myself pleasantly surprised when I see that I myself am in a sheer blue dress with elegant silver accents. It’s ruffled and cascades like gossamer waves, caressing my skin with its soothing coolness. I had always imagined wearing a gown, spinning its endless layers and twirling in that fitted bodice, but it was a hope that could only be satisfied in the strange world of dreams. I feel beautiful in this outfit- like the fabric was made for my very skin.

I touch the flawless blue material, wondering how such a thing had even been created when a quick blur of movement catches my eye and the sleek blue fabric drops between my fingers. I face my new partner.

Surprise parts my lips as I stare at the stranger, my mask still tied securely in a small knot in the back of my head. The silk seems to restrain all of a sudden, and I cock my head sideways to study him.

The person appears to be a man- his figure appears to be too masculine to be a woman and his dark suit accents his lithe body beautifully. I can’t tell what he looks like above his mask, of course, a mahogany thing with decorative white silk- and he smiles, the going of pearly whites glittering in the light of the countless chandeliers above us. He has the most beautiful smile I’ve ever seen on anyone, a bright thing with just a hint of shyness. I can’t help grinning in return. He’s so attractive.

“Care for a dance?” he asks, his voice soft. He reaches for my hand. His own is a beautiful thing- veined, fingers long and graceful. I take his hand without hesitation, a smile gracing my face again. And so we waltz, his hand on my slim waist, swivelling me around gently and catching me with equal care. The sound of distant laughter and chatting fades around us, a radio dialled to the lowest setting until I see nothing but the gorgeous man in front of me. He leans in, sweet breath tickling my ear. “You look good in a dress,” he giggles softly, then leans back to study my face. My eyes widen at his words.

“Does that mean you know what I look like?”

“Of course not,” he replies, resuming our steady pace. His touch on my waist and wrist sends my heart spiralling into the depths of my chest, my mind turned to things I’d rather not think of.

“This is all a dream.”

“But you seem so real…”

“This is my dream.” says the stranger sadly. “I’ll never see you again. So can you come with me?”

“Where? And it’s mine. You’re the person I’m imagining, right? You’re trying to trick me, aren’t you?” I ask, my voice growing in pitch rapidly. Angrily. How dare this man try convincing that he’s the unconscious one, at the mercy of some stranger whose identity he doesn’t even know.

“Outside. And of course, I’m not. I’m truthful, even in dreams.”

“There’s an outside?” I demand, incredulous; my voice drips with sarcasm. I decide to just ignore what he says on this topic for now. “How big is this place?”

He leads me off, chuckling softly at my words. “Pretty big...I did some exploring before you got here.”

“You did? You act like you know this place!”

“I do,” he says slowly, gazing at me. He towers over me, and our sudden height difference makes me feel like a child in the arms of a parent. Not the best comparison. I feel so vulnerable, so small. “I’ve been here many, many times. And I don’t know why.”

“But I’m new?”

He grins. “I guess.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing in particular,” he replies, and I almost think I can hear a catch in his voice, but before I can answer, I feel him leading me onto a small courtyard, all blossoms and fruit trees and faint humms of various animals in the green bushes that lace the large fenced area. The bright crescent moon stands out vividly against the stark backdrop of the sky. “Nice, isn’t it?” he asks, smile glinting again in the moonlight, eyes as green and bright as a cat’s.

“Who are you?” I wonder. “Are you really..real?” That might sound stupid, but it's as truthful as I can muster without lying, the only thing I can really think of asking.

“Of course I am,” says the stranger, and I can imagine him rolling his eyes. “D’you want to know what I really look like? On one condition, of course.”

“I do,” I admit, realizing that I do, indeed, want to know what he looks like. “And what’s the condition?”

“That I see your face.”
Without hesitation, I tear the straps of silk from their secure knot, grunting slightly as it catches in my auburn locks. I lift the mask off my face, instantly feeling powerless, vulnerable. I shift into a defensive position, arms crossed. The light fabric of the dress does nothing to protect me from the chill of the night, and goosebumps rise on my skin. It’s not like I care if he knows what I look like, especially if we’re never going to see each other again.

He moves closer, his full lips parting, white puffs of mist blossoming in the evening air. He seems flustered. “You’re-”

“Ugly, I know,” I say, and shame blooms in my chest, a heavy weight. I turn away from him, shutting my eyes. Shutting him out. If this is a dream, then why does this all feel so strange? So real? If this is all a dream, how do my insecurities find me while I’m unconscious? How do my fears haunt me while I’m asleep?

“No, no,” He interrupts immediately, his arms closing around my waist. My eyes flutter open and heat rushes to my face, at the feeling of his strong arms crossed around my middle. “You’re beautiful. You-”

“Oh, shut up,” I say, blushing furiously. I swear he can feel the warmth emanating from my face. I tie the mask back around my face. “Your turn.”

“No, please- please don’t put the mask back on, you’re beautiful.” says the stranger quickly, almost panickingly. “Please.”

I roll my eyes. “Hurry up with it already, I don’t know how much longer I’ll be asleep.” Although I do not want to wake up by any means. He fascinates me, this man, and I don’t understand his hesitation at showing me his face; it’s not like we’ll ever see each other again.

Right?

But he stares at me, hesitation creasing his eyebrows. The fear in his eyes is inexplicable, and I can’t help reaching out a helpless hand towards him in a desperate attempt to soothe the tension in his face.

“But...are you sure that this isn’t...y’know?” he demands.

“What? Why does that matter at all?” I ask furiously, reaching out to snatch the mask off his face. But the vulnerability of the part of his features that I can see already stops me.

“Just…”

The dream is fading. I reach out desperately towards him, trying to motion that I’m disappearing, that I’m fading. Panic blossoms in his eyes and he fumbles with the straps of his mask, trying to rip it off in time.

“A…”

The words echo, as if he doesn’t speak them in the coldness of the outdoors, but the cavernous interior of the ballroom. They seem disembodied, vibrating in the chilly air. I wish that I had asked for his name, anything that I could identify him with…

“Dream…”

And as I catch the smallest glance of a pair of luminous emerald eyes and a strong nose, I jolt awake in my bed at home, fingers digging into cotton sheets, cool tears sliding down my face.

I’m awake.

And he’s gone.

Forever.

Chapter Text

As I jolt awake, wide-eyed despite the sleep attempting to stick my eyelashes together, I can’t help reaching a hand into the empty space that now separates me and the man in the dream, although now all I see is darkness- no emerald eyes arrive in the stark night to capture me now, and all that remains are my furiously beating heart and the dull, aching silence.

Fingers tightening on cotton sheets, chest heaving up and down, I sit there for a few minutes, trying to regain my composure despite there being no one to compose it for. Somewhere in my memory he lingers, that blonde-haired angel whose jade orbs have yet to take me away again, whisk me from the dullness of regular dreams to the colorfulness of masquerade balls. Perhaps he’s even here with me in spirit; I smile at the thought, at the idea of seeing him again.

Wondering if surfing the Internet for a while might tone down my racing mind, I reach to my bedside for my phone, then remember that I left it in the living-room. Swearing, I sway to my feet and race down the carpeted hall. I know the place well enough to avoid any obstacles, and yank my phone off a mahogany couch where it glitters; the silence is interrupted by the soft noises of water filling a glass and the glint of ice as it plunks into the cup. I sigh as I gulp the sweet liquid, yet it doesn’t soothe my dry throat- there’s a kind of honeyed taste the dream has left behind, a warm, golden liquid that the cool water can’t replicate.

I set the glass down, no longer thirsty, and leave the cup there as I retreat to my bedroom, phone in hand. As I open my phone, a sudden thought jolts me- my old friend Nick, whom I haven’t contacted for a long while. I frown at the sight of my very unimpressive Contacts list- my mother’s number mocks me on the screen, and I have to scroll down before finding another caller- some scammer selling fake gift cards. Much further down the list I find some missed calls from my friends, who never contact me anymore.

It saddens me as I sit here in the silence of dawn, holding on to some premise of companionship with a man I’ve most likely made up in my head- I’m too isolated, too stranded. Maybe I should call Nick, though he lives in America, and he’s most likely sleeping at this hour. Whatever. Might as well do it while I’ve got the nerve to- while my murky dreams have brightened my judgement and my thoughts, and given me the opportunity to open up to someone.

The weight of loneliness sits on my shoulders, weighs me down to no end- I wish that someone could at least lighten the burden, remove some of the mass that threatens to break me. As I imagine Nick’s smiling face, his bronze hair, light stubble and kind eyes, I know he’s the right one to confide in. But will he want to? I move the hand cradling the phone up and down, forehead creased in contemplation and concentration, as if the upsides and downsides of each option are weights in each hand. Nick could ignore the call, or worse, block me. He could reject my call, yell something obscene, or say something hurtful. But there’s no reason to do that, I reason with myself; that’s not Nick in the slightest. He may feel strongly, but he also loves strongly, and our bond was something I know he tried hard to maintain.

But we were just too different. Nick spent half of his time in the bottom of a bottle, or was out partying with girls and getting high till all his money was spent and he turned to others for cash. I simply couldn’t supply him with the fuel to continue his ragged cycle, not if I cared about him in the slightest. I sigh, remembering the slice of pain in my chest when I’d finally ended our friendship. Hopefully he’s sobered up, but you never know.

My fingers search on their own accord.

It only takes one try to find Nick’s contact- I’ve never even considered deleting it, however far we’ve become over the past few years. It’s not just work, careers, and his destructive habits that have contributed to the gaping chasm between us, a pit filled with yearning, desolation, and lost hope- it’s also our personalities, which, needless to say, are polar opposites. But who knows? I’m willing to restart our friendship if he is, and I’ve got nothing to lose.

I press the call button without hesitation, and it’s only a few seconds before he answers; I can hear the excitement and disbelief in his voice before he speaks.

“Oh my God. George, is this you?”

“It’s me, Nick,” I say brightly, and for once that brightness isn’t faked. It’s as real as the smile spreading across my face, the one that brings out the dimples in my cheeks that I remember he used to poke for fun, which only made me laugh and grin harder. Something shatters inside me. The walls I’ve built around my heart, maybe- I feel a twinge of longing for human connection, so full of hopeless yearning it burns.

It melts, turning the hard wax of my heart to a flickering candle, the flame unsteady but growing.

“George. Oh God, I’ve missed you so much,” Nick says in a voice that fights to stay steady but wobbles with emotion. Tears start to run down my cheeks, despite my efforts to keep them back. That's what leads me to talk with him for hours on end. I learn so much about him that I’ve missed- he’s a new man now, been clean for years, and he’s with someone who cares about him more than anything- “His name’s Karl,” he enthuses. “He’s amazing. Nothing on you, of course,” he teases, but I wish them happiness together immediately. I’m happy for Nick and Karl, but it only reminds me of the man in the dream, the one I won’t see again for god knows how long. Viridian eyes flash, but they're purely imaginative this time- I feel uncomfortable reminding myself that they've always been. 

He’s just a figment of my imagination, I remind myself, but he seems so real. Nick notices my silence. “What’s wrong, Gogy?” He asks, his tone light and airy with contentment; I grin again at the use of the old nickname. It’s a shocking difference from the emotion-filled one that had met my ears at the beginning of our chat, but I welcome it. “Nothing,” I reply quickly. “Uh...Just curious, what do you do now? Y’know, for your job?”

“Oh, I’m a gamer,” he says casually. “I work with a guy named Dream, and Karl (my boyfriend) plus some other guys...Wilbur, Philza, Fundy, Ranboo. You’d like them.” I freeze, all muscles tensing up, straining under my skin. My eyes stare, sightless, into the distance, where the sun is finally rising, a red-orangey globe that sends a golden glow across the vast buildings and roads of London. Dream.

Dream.

A Dream.

Just A Dream.

“Gogy?”