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IV never fit in with the others, he was always just a bit out of line, just a bit too human for their tastes. He had too much empathy and too short of an attention span. The only one that was even remotely close to being like him was III, and III was a troublemaker so they were hardly left around each other. So naturally, IV learned to be alone, to find comfort in the silence and the loneliness, trying to convince himself every day that what he was feeling was peace. He knew it wasn’t. He craved contact and connections, he wanted to hear them speak and address him like a member of their pseudo-family dynamic. He never got that far though.
He found his solace in books. There was a small shelf in the sunroom with about a dozen books that collected dust. He figured they had belonged to II, the most “put together” of the three, he’s the only one IV could imagine sitting down to read, but still, they looked thoroughly neglected. He’s read them all by now, cover to cover more than once. Most of them were the classics, No Longer Human, East Of Eden, those types. It never really crossed his mind where II had gotten all these books from. They were here now. They comforted him.
It took some time, but eventually, things started getting better, and IV started growing into himself more. He felt more comfortable, more at home. II and III started to acknowledge his presence, small at first, maybe a glance or an occasional comment, but then it escalated to full-on conversations. IV could hardly contain his excitement, his glee at being able to finally participate in the conversations he had watched go on for months. There was still someone who hadn’t extended their hand though.
IV is scared of Vessel. Maybe ‘scared’ is a bit of a stretch? He’s nervous around him, his heart beats twice as fast and he can never seem to muster up the courage it takes to actually look at him. He keeps his head low and his mouth shut for the most part, Vessel doesn’t bother asking him questions, strictly talking to the other two, refusing to even acknowledge the fourth man in the room. IV is fine with this, he’s fine being cast aside. It means he gets to avoid confrontation, he gets to avoid being yelled at or punished or whatever Vessel probably does to the other two when they displease him. He gets to ignore it all.
He throws himself into those books again, he spends months and months rereading every word of them all, taking it all to heart. Nobody objected when he started taking the books to his room. It was only one copy at first, The Alchemist. Then he took The Metamorphosis, then one day the whole shelf was in his room. It let him isolate more, but that made him happy. It meant there were fewer distractions around, fewer sounds, fewer things to overwhelm him. Nobody really noticed IV’s absence at first, he might have believed that the others would forget about him if he stayed absolutely quiet. Unfortunately for him though, III eventually stuck his head in the doorway, seemingly taking a mental note of his whereabouts before leaving without saying a single word. He’s fine with that.
Lately though, he's noticed how they stare at him when he leaves his room. Particularly Vessel. Not that he can see Vessel’s eyes, but he can feel them. He’s tried striking up conversations, exchanging small pleasantries to which nobody responded. At least II or III would give a hum of acknowledgment, Vessel just stared. It felt weird, more isolating than even being alone. What had he done differently? Why were they treating him so .. strangely now?
In the spirit of avoiding any and all possible confrontation, IV has decided to stay in his room for as much time as he possibly can. He leaves it to make food, but he doesn’t dare eat in the kitchen. At least he’s isolated on his own means now, that’s better than being singled out and excluded, even if it is just a small victory.
IV was never a big ‘nap’ person. He had an iffy sleep schedule at best, but there’s only so much to do when you’re dead set on never leaving your room. He’s taking more naps now, though they’re moreso just him staring at the ceiling for hours. He’ll sleep occasionally, maybe a flutter here or there, nothing too serious, he’s never slept for more than an hour. For a worshiper of the old god of sleep, one would think he’d get a better schedule going on. It seems Sleep doesn’t accept his escapism as an offering like he had hoped.
Eventually, someone did though. It was a simple inevitability.
Dreamscapes are a weird place to be when one is conscious of their own dreaming. There’s that sort of sleepy haze over everything that makes it seem so familiar but so distant. It’s why this white space of clouds seems so inviting to IV. He’s definitely never been here before, he’s sure of it, but he innately knows where he’s supposed to go. He knows who is here, at least he thinks. He’s never been confident in his decisions, always needing someone else to back them up.
The clouds under his feet were soft and plush, but stable. They would hold him up if he fell, but they were so inviting, like a fluffy and expensive duvet. Like the arms of someone he loves. He’s safe here, well-kept and protected, doesn’t he realize? This is as much his dream as it is the other person’s. If he wanted to, he could make this world anything. No one can really fault him for not knowing his potential yet. He hardly believes he has control of his own thoughts and emotions, why would having control over something as important as the world cross his mind?
IV rounded a corner, sighing as his eyes finally landed on the figure. Cloaked in white and cream, but the pitch-dark skin was still so recognizable. It looked a little off, something he’s not meant to see.
“Vessel?” He called, the clouds around him absorbed his voice, it sounded like a whisper rather than the long call it was. He stepped closed, seating himself some feet away from Vessel, but close enough so that they could talk.
“Vessel? What is this place? What are you doing here?” IV cocked his head to the side, trying to gauge what emotion, if any, Vessel was feeling.
“This place? You dream.” He answered simply.
IV looked at his hands in disbelief. How could his mind create something so vast, so important seeming?
“No, no, that can’t be true. This is Sleep’s doing. I- I can’t create something like this, something so intricate and-”
“Well, it is mine as well.”
IV let out a sigh of relief and understanding. So this wasn’t his creation. The thought did make him smile internally for the second he thought it was real. Maybe his pain could manifest into something so beautiful and full of love. Maybe he was able to provide comfort when he had known none. Well, now he knew it was mostly Vessel’s dream.
Not that it meant he was incapable of feats of love, he knew he was. He could feel it within him. Maybe he was brought up into this world to love and not to be loved. To always be a seeker. To be the artist, the poet, the composer, never the muse, never the melody. It pained him. Accepting something so simple. He would never be loved. Always taken from. Split open to be picked apart for all he’s worth.
“Daydreaming?” Vessel’s voice derailed his train of thought and he was brought back to the present. Staring the other in the face- well, the mask. It was cold and unfeeling, a bit scary if IV is being honest.
IV rubbed the back of his neck, looking away in embarrassment, “Sorry… I got distracted..”
The silence seemed to last forever. The two of them sat and stewed in it, thinking their own things. IV wondered why he was brought here anyway. Were they waiting for someone else? Was this some sort of test? Was this Sleep’s will?
“You must surely hate yourself for what you are.” Vessel said after some time, wringing his hands, noticeably absent of his many rings. IV looked up, not being able to hide the face he made on instinct. What kind of person says that to someone? What kind of person knows that about someone?
“What do you mean by that?” His voice was laced with defensiveness he couldn’t hide.
“You are incomplete. Tiny. Unimportant. Bland.”
IV scooted back, noticeably more aggressive now. “You don’t know anything about me!” He didn’t mean to shout, it just came out that way, raw with emotion, denial. Like metal scraping the roof of his mouth, making him bleed into every syllable, feeling it so deeply.
“I do,” Vessel nodded, as if he was stating a simple fact of life, “You long for something, don’t you? You yearn for something you’ve only read about. That low-hanging pain in your chest? That thrum through your veins. I know.”
IV’s gaze softened slightly, it faltered. He knew immediately what Vessel was referring to. The realization hit him like a ton of bricks. Vessel seemed confident in what he said, and he was right to be. He was reading IV like a book. So plainly. Was his grief so obvious? Was his longing secretly weaved through every word he spoke? Did it follow him?
He scooted closer again, relenting.
“I can give it to… love..”
Vessel himself seemed nervous to say it, like it was a sin of some sort. IV’s mouth hung open slightly. Vessel hadn’t exactly been beating around the bush, but to hear it straight from his mouth, so plainly, so simply. ‘Love’. There had to be some catch. No one offers their love freely, there is always something to be gained. There is always a debt to take on. Sometimes it made it not worth it. That’s what stop people. The fear of not being enough to outweigh their perceived debt. IV’s debt must be some heavy burden then.
“You’ll give me ‘love’?”
“Correct.”
“But?” IV raised his eyebrow expectantly. Vessel sighed, breaking eye contact.
“Only here.”
This was puzzling. Was this space not a one-off area? Would he only love IV for a night? Was this even real then?
“Why? Why here? Am I not good enough? Please-“ he sounded so pitiful, begging for any scraps of love as soon as it was offered. Vessel’s shoulders dropped, like he had taken down his front. He was tired, vulnerable.
“I can’t risk us being seen anywhere else. Here it is private. Here it is safe. It’s for your own benefit.”
IV mulled the words over in his head over and over. For his own safety? Wellbeing? What was so dangerous about the waking world that they couldn’t even love in peace.
Vessel placed a hand on IV’s shoulder, reigning his thoughts back in again. It felt warm, inviting. Like light had hatched in his stomach again. Like seeing the sun.
Admittedly, IV never really saw a future for himself. Day by day he simply trekked on, going to sleep and accepting the very real possibility that he would die there. He saw no problem with this system. Now though, as the light and warmth thrummed through his body, he couldn’t stop the ideas from forming. Futures. Lives he could live. Things he could learn and do. Years and years beyond this singularity in time. Blessed with Sleep’s will and warmth.
He had not known love like this before. This warm, this refreshing. It was like all the negative emotions were flushed from him immediately in place of all these new things. The thought of being alone again was nigh on unthinkable. Love like this couldn’t be stripped from his body. Not simply or cleanly. It was a part of him, mixing into his blood and his sweat and his tears turning them all to a sweetened nectar. Even his most mundane parts were now beautiful, entwined with this feeling.
IV leaned forward, slumping against Vessel’s chest. He heaved softly and cried, cried gentle warm tears. It was relief. Finally, finally, he would be loved the way he had always dreamed. The way he had sworn he never deserved. It was fresh, it was simple, it was heavenly.