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Even with the city lights corrupting the view the sky looked spectacular tonight. The Perseids were always something to cherish and Hob felt he was in the perfect mood for some star-gazing.
The events of last week totally justified a Saturday night on his rooftop terrace with only a bottle of whiskey for company. If it came with the bonus of watching a meteor shower that had been a constant comrade through hundreds of hot summer nights even better.
He took another sip from his glass. Not old enough to be his father but still a good one.
He chuckled at the memory of that night at the old inn. Now that Hob's world was well-aligned once more it seemed like a good moment to remember. The pain of being stood up and the fear of never seeing his old friend again had finally faded last Wednesday when he had looked up from his papers to see him there.
“Morpheus,” Hob whispered his name aloud into the night.
He chuckled again. Maybe he was already a bit more drunk than he had thought. But that day, that night...
Hob could still taste that first kiss they shared, here in his loft.
Not far from the New Inn where they had been talking for hours, Hob's re-telling of his latest explorations of life interrupted by them occasionally smiling at each other.
And maybe Hob had gone into very excruciating details as not to let this end until his companion – still nameless to him then – had leaned forward, their hands on the table almost, but not quite touching and asked where he lived.
And maybe Hob had jumped way too quickly at the opportunity to explain that it was only a five-minute walk and wouldn't he like to see it?
And somehow that had actually worked and Hob had given him a tour of his latest domicile, a tasty combination of old stones and industrial chic on the upper floor of a now empty warehouse with enough room for both centuries-old mementos and the newest technical gadgets as well as a nice view from his bed and the rooftop terrace.
And somehow Hob had not been able to stop talking, babbling really, until his companion had crowded into his space, put a hand on his shoulder, pushed him against the nearest wall saying “I think this is quite enough of that...” before kissing him.
Hob had only been stunned for a second – or so he hoped – by cold lips on his before he had kissed back enthusiastically, tasting him for the first time like he had wanted for centuries. He had almost stumbled when the other pulled back far too soon but was caught by surprisingly strong arms and rewarded with another of those smiles.
“And you may call me Morpheus.”
Damn, Hob thought, taking another healthy gulp from his almost empty glass.
Just thinking of him sent a shiver down his spine. Next thing he would be waxing poetics about raven-black hair and eyes as deep as the universe with stars in...
He snorted. So he was fucked all the way. What else was new. It really helped if you had longer than the average human to come to terms with the fact that you were completely gone for your oldest, oh-so-mysterious friend.
Speaking and thinking of fucking: The night had progressed nicely in that aspect.
Hob's attempt at calling his friend by his name for the first time lost in a heated kiss, clothes discarded quickly before stumbling in a tangle of limbs onto soft satin sheets.
Over 600 hundred years of experience gone down the drain when Morpheus had proceeded to take him apart, meticulously so.
Hob poured himself another glass of whiskey.
They had lounged on the bed together afterwards, legs intertwined, Morpheus still mostly on top of him, Hob feeling sticky and sweaty in a way that screamed for a shower but too bonelessly content and tired to really care, idly playing with some strands of that unruly mop of hair instead.
“So, Morpheus,” he had drawn out the name, tasting it on his tongue again, treasuring it.
“Will I have pleasant dreams tonight?”
He had felt the huff, somewhere between exasperated and fond, and the following smile against his chest.
“In any case I'm issuing you a standing invitation to haunt me in my sleep whenever you like.”
Morpheus had pushed himself up a bit, locking eyes with him, dragging a delicate finger across his cheek.
“That, my friend, is a very dangerous permission to lightly give,” he had murmured.
“Not that I need it.”
Hob had fallen asleep shortly after that. The dreams had been fairly unremarkable, albeit relaxing, leaving him more well-rested than one could normally expect from three hours of sleep.
Morpheus had not featured in them safe for that moment when he heard his voice in his ear, sounding a bit different than usual somehow, saying something along the lines of “urgent business”.
“I will owe you another apology then, Hob Gadling,” had still been on his mind when his alarm had gone off and he had woken up alone.
Hob drained his glass in one go.
The stars shone brighter than an hour ago but he felt they were still way too dimmed by the city lights. Maybe he would take a trip to the countryside next weekend to catch the Perseid shower at its peak there.
He sighed – actually sighed out loud like one of the damsels in one of the stupid plays by that idiot Shaxberd. Who was he fooling. He would stay here in the vain hope that someone came looking for him. That this did not mean what he knew it meant. That it was unsaid but painfully obvious. Fuck.
“A hundred years,” he took a swig from the bottle and raised it in a mock toast towards the stars.
Oh, wasn't that just great. Drinking alone always gave him stupid mood swings.
Another mistake he did not stop making.
He could still figure out tomorrow if he was a very lucky guy or deeply unhappy but still glad to be alive.
Hob cast a last look at the sky, finally finding a shooting star so sparkly it made him forget he was currently living in a city where the times of truly dark nights had ended more than a century ago.
He carefully got up, navigated the stairs on only slightly unsteady feet and swayed towards his bed. His shirt and boxers ended up in a heap on the floor before he crawled under the sheets. He took a moment to mourn that he had to change them, that no whiff of Morpheus' unique scent lingered, before sleep claimed him.
The night sky was truly amazing. Myriads of stars that seemed close enough to touch, the meteor shower in full swing.
Hob stood on a hill somewhere. Not a city light in sight. The only sounds the faint chirping of crickets, some leaves rustling in the warm breeze. He smiled. Better than a trip to the countryside.
Very light footsteps behind him. Hob grinned and let himself fall slightly backwards only to be caught safely against a chest, arms encircling him.
“Of course, you're here tonight.”
“I believe I have your explicit permission.”
And why did Morpheus sound so different in his dreams, Hob wondered.
“If you consider that to be haunting,” he murmured and turned in the embrace to get access for a proper kiss.
Morpheus was dressed in his signature black, of course, but he seemed slightly taller here, more regal somehow, eyes darker, almost bottomless. Hob shook his head and got a questioning look.
“Just contemplating how you are even more beautiful when conjured up in a dream.”
Morpheus kissed him hard in reply and Hob threw himself into it with giddy abandon.
The kiss ended but instead of transforming the landscape into some steamy sex scene, Morpheus pulled him down on a blanket that had appeared on the hilltop and snuggled closer to him without any indication that they should be wearing less clothes.
“So, what have you been doing?”
“What, in the last three days?” Hob chuckled.
“Mostly just missing you and hating the fact that you were not there when I woke up.”
“I told you I would owe you another apology.”
Dark eyes searching his. For what, Hob wondered. His friend had never seemed insecure before. Whatever his drunk subconscious was fabricating here, this was one weird dream altogether.
“You know, I would have waited another hundred years so I think we can get over three days for the time being.”
“For the time being?” again with that searching look.
“Hmm.”, Hob started pulling at Morpheus' coat.
“Can we stop with the nonsense talk and do something that will make the remaining 99 years and 362 days more bearable. Or are we actually aiming for 2089? That would be a lot better already.”
Morpheus encircled both his wrists and stilled his hands. He looked at Hob with a frown now.
Somehow this dream was not following any sensible script.
“Come on. Please. It's hard enough to get you to smile under regular circumstances, you could at least make my life easier here. And get on with the program. My dream, my terms.”
That got him an actual laugh.
“That is really not how this works, my friend.”
“I thought it to be better to discuss your remaining questions here. But I can see that we might need a different approach.
I will show you the Dreaming some other time then.”
Morpheus let go of him and stood up in one fluid motion.
“What?”, Hob would have admired that grace if he had not been preoccupied with the whole scenery falling apart.
Dark clouds started obscuring the stars, the wind, now significantly colder, was picking up, the crickets had fallen silent.
Morpheus stretched out his hand, Hob took it almost reflexively and let himself be pulled to his feet.
“Wake up, Hob Gadling.”
It sounded like a command, from someone used to his orders being obeyed. Hob felt the dream slipping away, lines blurring, Morpheus' form fading.
“I will see you soon.”
A promise, softly spoken, intimate.
Hob woke with a start. What the actual fuck?
He pulled the pillow over his head for a moment, just breathing, before realizing that there was no way he could get back to sleep. He futilely fished around for his phone on the nightstand. Rooftop, probably. Next to an almost empty whiskey bottle.
Alcohol is not your friend, Hob Gadling.
Damn. Now his inner voice sounded like Morpheus in his dream. Great.
He blearily got up.
One of the perks of being a bit older than the average human was that he could perform his “morning after a rough night” routine on autopilot.
Grab a water bottle, find some Ibuprofen, brush your teeth, shower, get the coffee going.
By the time he was leaning over the rooftop railing with a generous mug of strong coffee in hand he felt more like himself already.
Sunday morning, the city fast asleep, the sky still painted in the fading colors of the sunrise.
His phone – indeed abandoned near the last dregs of whiskey – had informed him that it was 5:45 a.m. He idly scrolled through social media and some unread messages in the group chat from work.
The doorbell rang. Probably a group of drunk youngsters on their way home from a club thinking they were the funniest people in the whole wide world. He had had that before. He leaned a bit further but could not see or hear anything.
The bell rang again. At this rate they would wake the whole neighborhood. Hob abandoned his mug and trudged down the stairs, pulling the door forcefully open with an especially rude “What?” that lost its momentum half-way.
“Good morning, Hob.”
Morpheus unleashed one of those unfairly mesmerizing smiles on him.
Hob stared. He opened his mouth, couldn't decide what to say, closed it and finally stammered “Good morning.”
Wonderful, he sounded like an idiot.
“Uh, do come in, coffee is ready,” complete with a stupid little wave and a smile of his own.
Hob quickly turned and walked back in, aware of Morpheus following close behind him.
“Do you even drink coffee? And if you do, how do you drink it? I have regular milk and sugar but...”
And there was Morpheus right in his personal space.
“I really had urgent business to deal with the other night. And I was very sorry not to be with you in the morning. But I do not quite understand why you would think I would let you wait another 100 years...”
“Oh, wait, what?” Hob felt he could have formulated that question better but Morpheus seemed to have gotten something from it or maybe he would have continued either way.
“Friends do not wait a century to see each other, now do they?” close enough to feel the other's breath on his lips but with the same searching look he had seen last night.
Hob felt several things click into place. Hopefully the remaining gaps would be filled later.
“A fortnight might be acceptable”, he managed breathlessly, brushing cool lips with his.
“But only if I see you in the Dreaming in between.”