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In All My Dreams I Drown
“So, where were you?” Hob has set his papers aside(his students are doing a unit on the War of the Roses-Hob fought on the Tudor side-, and he’s been quietly despairing over how little of them are actually paying attention) to give his friend his full attention. He’s sitting somewhat stiffly in the chair, and stiffens even more at the question. “Thought maybe you’d stood me up, the um...the last time. After, well, after we had that fight.”
Dream tries to blink, but his eyelids feel like they weigh a thousand tons. Everything is so bright, so loud, so...so much. With an effort that feels like his tongue is made of lead, he answers. “I was...someplace.” Glass walls, glass roof, suspended, naked, cold, scared, crying for help, begging for help, then seeing Jessamy, and hope blossomed, only for it to be cruelly snatched away with one shot. Knowing that no one would come, that his siblings hadn’t heard his pleas, and that if it hadn’t been for sheer dumb luck he would still be in that basement.
He’s not even aware that Hob’s moved from his chair until he feels a gentle hand on his back. Dream jerks in shock, and the hand is removed. “Hey, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have touched you without asking first.” Dream blinks again, wondering why the room is so fuzzy, and why is it so cold? “Hey. Are you here?” Dream wants to answer, to snap that of course he’s here, he saw the sign and followed the arrows, and this was where they lead him, but when he opens his mouth all that comes out is a croak.
Air rushes out of his lungs, and suddenly he can’t breathe. Which is ridiculous, really. He doesn’t need to breathe, not if he doesn’t want to. He’s an Endless, a being that has been in existence since the first star dreamed. He may be in a human body now, but he’s been so many other things. He is above such petty things like a need for oxygen. So why is he feeling like any minute his sister is going to show up and take him to the Sunless Lands? Why does it feel like the world is literally sitting on his chest and crushing him?
Once, long before his capture, he had gone into the recurring dream of a mortal. She dreamed of drowning, of being pressed under the water by a large hand, unable to even scream as the dark and cold closed over her. It had turned out that the dream was a sliver of a childhood memory, when her mother had tried drowning her in the bathtub. Dream had sent a nightmare to the mother, and after that the girl no longer dreamed of drowning. But he had never forgotten how the water had closed over them both, pressing down, rushing into his lungs.
“Hey. Hey, look at me. Can...shit. Fuck. Um...Fuck.” Hob kneels in front of his friend, hands clenched into fists. He’s not really sure what the protocol is for immortal beings having panic attacks. The other man is staring into space, eyes blank and body jerking like it’s touching a live wire. Hob wants to reach out and take those hands in his, but he’s afraid that if he does, the panic will only get worse. He feels eyes on the back of his neck, and he turns and glares at the young couple that’s sitting in the next booth over. “Fuck off and mind your business.” He hisses at them, and they have the decency to look shamefaced as they turn back to their burgers. He reaches out and softly, gently, lays his hand on top of the other’s. “Hey. I need you to look at me, okay? Can you do that?”
With an effort that seems to wrench his neck muscles, Dream looks at Hob. Oh. How had he never noticed before how handsome(no, not handsome, his mind supplies-beautiful) he was before now? He blinks, and the smile Hob gives seems to fill his very being with sunlight. “There we go. Do you think you can stand?”
“Yes.” Dream staggers to his feet, and his legs give way. Hob catches him, and this time Dream doesn’t jerk away. He lets himself be held, breathing in Hob’s scent. It’s a rather nice one, Dream thinks dizzily. “Thank you.”
Hob smiles. “No problem, but I think you and I need to go someplace more private.” He turns to the bartender. “Amos, tell Janie to make some sandwiches and bring them to my room.” Amos salutes, and Hob looks over at Dream. “You look like you could use some food, that’s all.”
Dream just nods, wanting to tell Hob that he doesn’t need to eat, but his human stomach protests. “Thank you, Hob.”
“Robbie.” Dream blinks. “I go by Robbie these days. Or if you’re one of my students, Dr. Gadling.” Hob says with a grin. Dream tries smiling back, but the effort is too much. “Come on, let’s get you to my room. Much more comfortable there.”
Dream only barely registers the walk down the hall to Hob’s(no, his mind supplies, to Robbie’s) room. The pictures are of landscapes, that much he registers, but if asked what the landscapes were, he would not be able to recall any details. Hob opens the door with an odd looking card. “What’s that?”
“A keycard.” Hob says, looking a bit confused. “Never seen one before?” Dream shakes his head, and Hob’s brow furrows. “Been out of touch for a bit?”
Dream shudders. “Yes...for...a very long time. A very, very long time.” Hob closes the door behind him and steers Dream over to a chair. He doesn’t sit so much as fall into it, staring out the large window that’s right in front of him. He stands, or at least tries to, but his legs don’t want to listen and he collapses into the chair again. Hob is moving around the room, and suddenly Dream needs to be able to see him. “H..Robbie?”
“Yeah?” Hob looks over at him, and Dream tries to convey with his eyes the words that are suddenly stuck in his throat. But Hob seems to understand, and he grabs another chair and pulls it up so that he’s facing Dream. This time it’s the Endless that reaches out and grabs Hob’s hands in his.
“I...I want to tell you where I’ve been.” Dream chokes out. “I’ve been...trapped. In a cage for...a hundred and five years. I also...need to tell you the truth of who I am. I am Dream, one of the Endless.”
Hob blinks, then smiles. “I kinda figured you weren’t human. But you say you were trapped? How?”
Dream takes a deep, shuddering breath, and begins talking. About how in 1916, he had gone after his nightmare, the Corinthian, and how he had been pulled across the universe and met himself, or well, different aspects of himself. How he had learned that a vortex had been formed, a star had gone mad, and the universe was dying. Told of meeting himself as a cat, and of meeting a girl called Hope. Of going and finding the mad star and realizing it was too late, and the dream of a thousand souls that finally saved things. Of heading back to his realm, exhausted beyond exhaustion, and the magician Burgess trapping him in the circle. Told of sitting there, naked and cold, as the years went on and sleepy sickness engulfed the world. Told of the raven that tried and failed to free him, and the despair that set in when he realized nobody was coming.
“I finally managed to escape, and I got my tools back. My helm, my pouch, and my ruby. I went to Hell for my helm, and my ruby was destroyed.” Dream smiles a bit. He’s had this conversation before. He idly wonders if Hob will throw bread at him too.
There’s a knock, and Hob takes the tray from the girl outside. He sets it on the table, and Dream has to admit the food does look good. But what’s even better is when Hob comes back over and links his hand with Dream’s. “Sounds like you’ve been through it, Dream.” He says softly, and Dream chuckles without mirth. “You still came here, though. You could have said fuck you to the human realm and stayed, well...wherever it is the personification of dreams lives.”
“The um...the Dreaming. It’s called the Dreaming.” Dream croaks out. Hob is running his thumb over Dream’s knuckles. “And...I couldn’t. Not come. I…” the words are there, and for once in his existence, Dream finds himself hoping, praying that he won’t fuck this up.
He thinks of Alionara, brave and bold, helping to free him from that prison long ago. Of Calliope, and the only marriage he’s ever had. He thinks of Killala, of that first love, and the betrayal he felt at Desire’s manipulations. Of Nada, and his pride that condemned her to Hell. ‘It is not for mortals to love the Endless’, yes, but is Hob mortal? He’s human, so brilliantly, wonderfully, beautifully human, and in so many ways he knows Dream even better than anyone, with the possible exception of his sister. “I want to apologize.” He says. “For...what I said, at our last meeting. I am very glad to...be your friend, Robbie.”
“Doesn’t sound right.” Dream looks confused. “Robbie. Coming from you, it doesn’t sound right. Hob’s what you’ve known me as for, well, a bloody long time.” Hob says with a soft smile. “C’n I ask you something? How many Endless are there?”
“Seven. Why?”
Hob reaches out and lays his hand on Dream’s cheek, stroking it with his thumb, and Dream has the oddest urge to purr. He settles instead for leaning into the touch, shivering. “I haven’t...it’s been...no one’s touched me for…” Dream stammers, and Hob understands.
“Come on.” He stands, taking Dream’s hands in his, and leads him over to the bed. “Go on, it’s really comfy.” Dream looks over at the sandwiches. “They’ll keep, don’t worry.” Hob climbs onto the bed, and Dream sits next to him. Hob scoots so his back is against the headboard, then holds his arms open. “Come on, don’t tell me that the Endless don’t hug.” Dream blinks. He’s gotten hugs from his sister a few times, but they had always been while they were both standing up. “You know, you’re lucky you’re so damn gorgeous, because you really can be dumb at times.” Hob says, and Dream is rather surprised to find he’s blushing. Hob tugs at his arm, and Dream lets himself be pulled down onto the other man’s body. Oh. Oh, Hob is very warm, and soft. Dream can feel the muscles under his shirt.
Hob positions them so Dream’s head is resting on Hob’s shoulder. Dream’s arms come up and wrap around Hob’s waist, and Hob wraps his arms around Dream, stroking his spine. For a while, there’s no sound save their soft breathing. “Did you mean it?” Dream asks, breaking the silence. “When you called me gorgeous?”
“Course I meant it.” Hob says softly, and Dream flushes. “I’ve thought so for a damn long time, too.”
“You are...also very han...gorgeous.” Dream whispers, face red. “I...am...very fond of you, Hob Gadling.”
Hob grins. “Only fond?” Dream chuckles and lightly smacks his chest. “Oh, you are feisty.”
Dream sighs. “I do not have a good...most of my relationships, they do not end well. I do not wish to subject you to that. I’m not good for anyone, Hob, and for you least of all, because I care for you more than anyone I have ever cared for.”
Hob moves so that he’s looking Dream in the eyes. “Say the words.” Dream looks stricken. “I won’t ask you to do anything about them, but please, let me hear you say them. Just once. Please.”
Three words. Three words, eight letters, and the weight of the universe upon them. Dream closes his eyes, breathes in, then whispers the words he’s wanted to say to Hob for over a hundred years.
“I love you.”
Hob chokes on his sob, and suddenly the immortal’s lips are on his, and they’re kissing, and Hob tastes of spice and sunlight, and he’s repeating the words against Dream’s mouth, and Dream once more gets the sensation of drowning.
But this time, he thinks as he continues to kiss this immortal that he is hopelessly, madly, and deeply in love with, he doesn’t want to be saved.