Work Text:
its not out of the ordinary to meet girls when you close your eyes but it is weird when they talk to you. usually they just scream and bleed out.
you cant bring yourself to talk back. you dont like talking, it hurts your throat and people stare when you squeal. she says her name is “urotsuki” and it feels insulting. just as nonsense as the name you call yourself, just as unrealistic and stupid, and just as nasty when it rolls through your ears and fumbles off your tongue and gets stopped by your sealed lips.
she offers a hand to you, its a healthy color with an equal amount of skin and tendons and bones. “do you want to explore?” she asks. patient and willing. you cant remember the last time you touched skin. you dont like the feeling of your own so you dont know how to respond when the girl doesnt wait anymore and rips you out of your head and body without caring how you feel. this always happens.
she shows you things she can do. a cute penguin costume, a metal drum around her, she even turns into a die. her favorite is a shiny motorcycle. you try to smile but your lips hurt so you dont. she takes you places, so much more populated and structured than yours. endless snowy cities, gray plains that bloom into beautiful gardens, deep underground passages beneath towering office buildings, fashion boutiques where you try on outfits that make your heart flutter, and a beautiful view of the galaxy on the deck of an observatory.
you tell her about your places and youre surprised to hear she relates to the glowing trees and paths made of meat and uncomfortable smiles and terrifying faces that flood your brain with haze. you tell her about betrayal and the dark and the stairs and the tears and she doesnt turn away.
you have things you can do too. shes excited to hear. you show her how your head becomes a old rusty lantern and shes envious. she has trouble seeing in the dark. you show her your disgusting cat eyes and she thinks theyre cute. she loves animals. you show her the streetlight that makes you shiver and cry and she tells a story that distracts you.
and then you show her your favorite. a shiny knife. its your favorite because it always does something. its the only way forward. shes envious of this one too because she hasnt found a way to hurt yet. you wonder what its like to be so perfect when she holds the blade in her midsection and smiles instead of screaming and vanishing. shes warm as she trickles down your wrist and collapses on top of you. the stars disappear as the rest of the dream does too.
when you open your eyes again your bed is warm and your door is creaked open.