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“I had a dream about us last night.”
They’re in Anthony’s flat, curled up in bed in the early hours of the morning. Though it’s only been a few months, Anthony is amazed by how naturally they have come together, how quickly they have learned and understood each other. It’s why Anthony knows he’s safe to divulge this little quirk of his subconscious.
Asa tilts his head, his sleepy eyes newly alight with curiosity. “Did you?”
“I did. Been having them a lot, actually.”
“And what were we doing?”
“We were drinking wine in a bookshop.”
Asa smiles, his hand patting the soft fabric of Anthony's Henley. “How very far-fetched.”
Anthony ducks his head, grinning in return, but his eyebrows twitch in the way Asa knows means there is something else on his mind.
“What is it?”
“In these dreams…we’re us, definitely. But we’re also quite different.”
“How so?”
“Well”, Anthony smiles, his eyes casting over the crown of Asa’s head. “You’ve got white hair, for starters.”
“So we’re old? Maybe you’re seeing the future”, Asa beams, but then catches himself, trying to remind himself that it’s far too early to imagine them growing old together, no matter how appealing the prospect is, and if he wants any shot at that becoming a reality, he better not scare this man off. “I mean, potentially, of course, there are many possible futures, and we just could be, you know-”
“No, it’s not that you’re older”, Anthony cuts him off, unbothered. “It’s like you were just born with it.”
Asa exhales, his pent up anxiety lessening. “And what about you? Do you look different?”
“Not sure, really. I don’t see myself in the dreams, I just am myself. Though I do…move a bit differently.”
Asa props himself up on his elbow and quirks his head at that. “You move differently?”
“It’s like my limbs are all loose. I just sort of…swagger about.”
The corners of Asa’s mouth twitch, and his eyebrows raise with clear expectation. Anthony quickly realizes he’s backed himself into a corner, and he’s not going to be able to leave this bedroom without a demonstration. With a huff, Anthony rolls the covers off and takes a few paces away from the bed. Asa’s amusement only grows, his head perched in his hand as he awaits the show.
Anthony clears his throat, shakes out his shoulders, then takes a deep breath and begins to strut around the room, decidedly diverting Asa’s gaze lest he lose his nerve. He imagines his hips swaying, his knees bending a bit more than necessary as he walks. He’s torn between feeling like he’s just reconnected with a part of himself he lost somewhere along the way and feeling like he’s making a complete fool of himself in front of this lovely man.
Trying to keep his nerve, he pivots away from Asa and struts in the opposite direction. When he’s paced as far as he can, he turns quickly back around and bows with a flourish.
“Very nice”, Asa says, his voice pitched low as he attempts to subtly drag his eyes away from his partner’s hips. He’s not quick enough, and Anthony’s eyebrow arches in bemusement.
“Liked that, did you?”
“I might have, yes.” Asa is noticeably more pink than he was a moment ago.
Anthony hums in contentment, then comes to sit on the edge of the bed. Asa sits up properly to face him. He’s practically buzzing with curiosity now.
“What else do you remember?”
“You never call me Anthony, it’s always just Crowley.”
Asa’s brow furrows. “That’s odd.”
“It doesn’t feel odd in the dream, though.”
“But you call me Asa?”
Anthony squints and looks away, trying to conjure the name in his mind. After a long moment, he shakes his head.
“No, you have a different name. It’s similar, but it’s not Asa. Or not just Asa. There’s another piece to it.”
“So, I look different, and I have a different name. Are you quite sure it’s me you’re dreaming of?” Asa attempts to sound teasing, but he can hear his own insecurity seeping into his words at the thought of Anthony dreaming of another man.
“It’s you”, Anthony replies instantly. “I know it’s you.”
The conversation moves on shortly after, and though he tries to just accept them at face value, Asa replays those words in his mind long after he leaves Anthony’s flat.
I know it’s you.
------
A few weeks later, Anthony wakes up alone in Asa’s bed. Though there’s likely no reason to panic, this is out of character - Asa doesn’t like his sleep nearly as much as Anthony does, but he cherishes waking up and spending the first few moments of the day together.
Anthony shuffles out of bed and pads into the kitchen, where Asa is stirring a mug of cocoa and staring out the window of his flat, clearly lost in thought.
“Good morning”, Anthony finally says, and the spoon Asa is holding clinks loudly against the mug in surprise.
“Oh”, Asa breathes an awkward laugh and looks at Anthony over his shoulder. “Good morning, dear.”
“You alright?”
“Yes, yes, perfectly fine.” He passes a mug of coffee to Anthony, who leans against the kitchen counter and stares at him intently.
“What is it?”
Asa takes a breath, clearly nervous. “I…I had a dream about us the other night. I was just trying to remember the details”
“Did you? Were we in a bookshop?”, Anthony jokes.
“No…we were in the Globe Theatre.”
“Catching a play, were we?”
“No, not a play, a rehearsal. We were just chatting while watching a rehearsal.” Then Asa gasps and presses his hands to his mouth. Smothering a laugh, he adds, “And you had long hair and this…goatee.” He mimes the length of the beard along his chin, smiling as if recalling a far away memory.
Anthony humours him, placing his mug down and stepping closer. “Well there goes that plan, I was going to grow out my beard.”
“Oh I’m sure you’d look lovely with a proper beard”, Asa replies, cupping Anthony’s cheek. “Just not the one I saw.” Anthony snorts, then Asa’s brow furrows again. “But, it was like you said in your dreams - I only called you Crowley.”
Anthony purses his lips in thought. “Hmm. Was that social convention of the time, maybe, to just call someone by their last name?”
Of course, Asa could trust Anthony, a man of science, to come up with a rational explanation for something strange. “Suppose it could be. I don’t think you said my name at all. You certainly didn’t call me ‘Fell’.”
“Maybe I just didn’t want to talk too much during the rehearsal. Bit rude, that.”
“Oh, I don’t know”, Asa replies, stepping forward and smoothing his hands over Anthony’s chest. “I got the impression you quite liked stirring up trouble.”
“Oh did I?” Anthony responds, his tone darkly playful as he rests his hands on Asa’s hips. “Doesn’t sound like me at all.”
“No, certainly not”, Asa plays along, though the rasp of his voice gives him away. “You would never do anything…untoward.”
The two are quickly distracted from the topic, and the dream is forgotten for quite some time.
------
Anthony wakes the following month to Asa mumbling in his sleep. His eyebrows are drawn together, almost as if he’s afraid. Anthony props himself up and cups the side of Asa’s face, his thumb sweeping over his cheek in an attempt to wake him gently.
The lines in Asa’s forehead even out, his breathing slowing as his mouth twitches upward. It’s another minute before he stirs, his eyes blinking open slowly to meet Anthony’s.
“You alright? Looked like a bad dream”, Anthony asks.
Asa blinks hard and stretches his neck as if trying to clear his head. “No, not a bad dream”, he yawns. “Well, mostly not bad. You were there again.”
Anthony smiles, “And where were we this time? The Parthenon?”
Asa laughs a little and rubs his eyes. “France. I was in a dungeon. I think I was about to be executed actually.” He turns to Anthony and meets his eyes, his voice soft. “You rescued me.”
“How’d I do that?”
“Not sure, actually. You just…appeared there with me and then my shackles were gone. Dream logic, I suppose.”
“And how was my hair this time?”
Asa laughs, eyes closing as he conjures the image. “Oh, ridiculous.”
Anthony laughs with him. “Your dreams seem to be much more adventurous than mine. Last one I had, we drove to a park and fed the ducks.”
“That sounds like a perfect dream”, Asa cooed. “I must just be reading too much before bed. I’m inserting us into all these histories.”
“Were you reading about French executions before bed?”
“Well, no. But maybe I did at the shop this week. I have been reviewing a lot of new entries, they’re all blurring together a bit.”
“And giving you nightmares, apparently.”
“Oh, it wasn’t all that bad. We got out of there unscathed, and then we had the most delicious crêpes.”
“Ah, that sounds more like you.”
“They really were quite scrumptious”, Asa adds, his gaze flickering to and from Anthony’s with faux innocence.
“Is that a hint?”
“Could be”, Asa pretends to inspect his fingers, feigning nonchalance.
“Right, you. Get dressed. We’re going out for breakfast.”
And while the crêpes they share that day are delicious, Asa catches himself imagining sitting at a table, 300 years in the past, with a version of Anthony he can’t quite understand.
------
As time goes on, the nights where Asa and Anthony don’t fall asleep in each other’s arms become few and far between. While this shift comes so naturally to them that neither of them realizes it’s happened, they do both notice that the dreams are coming more frequently, as if exacerbated by each other’s company. It’s practically a part of their morning routine to laugh about whatever scenarios their dream selves got into the night before.
It’s a silly argument that abruptly breaks that routine.
“It’s not even that risky, you’re making a big deal out of nothing”, Anthony grumbles as gathers the plates from their breakfast. He places them on the counter more aggressively than he needs to, and the sound only riles Asa up more.
“Yes it is! Honestly, just because one of your “department friends”-
“Colleagues is usually the term”, Anthony interjects, annoyance simmering.
“-is bored in their own life and wants to go cliff diving doesn’t mean that you should! I didn’t peg you for being an adrenaline junkie.”
“Well, maybe you don’t really know me”, Anthony sniffs, knowing that the comment wouldn’t land. Asa knew him to an alarming extent.
“You don’t even like swimming!”
“I am a grown man, you know, I can make my own decisions about these things.”
“I’m not saying you can’t, I just wish you would see it my way! Sometimes I think you’re a bit self-destructive on purpose.”
“Well sometimes that’s easier than trying to appease everyone. Doesn’t that exhaust you?”
“Oh Crowley,” Asa huffs, “Can’t you see that I’m just looking out for your well-being?”.
It’s only once he finishes talking that either notice the name. The room is suddenly quiet.
Anthony stands quite still a few feet away. “You called me Crowley.”
“Ah, sorry.”
“You’ve never called me Crowley.”
“I’m sorry. I don’t know why I did that.” Asa places his palm against his forehead and feels the heat of it burning against his hand, the sweat collecting at his brow. He feels embarrassment, but also a gripping fear - in his mind’s eye, Anthony jumps off a cliff and he never reaches the water, he just falls endlessly, tumbling through the sky towards a terrible fate. Asa bites down a wave of nausea and shakes his head to try to erase the image. “I think all these dreams are getting to me.”
Anthony just stares in response, working his jaw as he thinks. “Yeah, me too. It’s all a bit too…”
“What?”
“Intense.”
“Ah”, Asa deflates. Despite his very best efforts, he has definitely come on too strong. He’s been demanding, not just of Anthony’s time, but of his private thoughts. He keeps insisting on talking about these silly dreams, and now they’re bleeding into his actual relationship and threatening to take the most precious thing he has.
When Anthony remains silent, Asa tries to steel himself. He speaks to the floor, twisting his fingers. “Maybe…maybe we should spend a little less time together.”
“Oh”, Anthony responds, very quietly. “Right.”
Asa’s eyes flash up to meet his. “I just thought…”, he stumbles, fighting against the lump in his throat. “Well, if the dreams are too much, then surely I must be…”
Though he doesn’t finish the sentence, the meaning is understood. Anthony finally takes a tentative step forward. “I didn’t say that. It’s not that you’re too much…it’s just that, this, whatever this is between us…well, it’s not normally like this, right?”
“No. Not in my experience.”
“Right. So.”
They both stare at each other, waiting for the other to find some sort of explanation for why these dreams keep coming, and why it’s so easy for them to bleed into their lives as if they were shared memories and not just their own imaginings. They wait for the other to say the quiet part aloud and admit that they’re terrified of how quickly this relationship has consumed them, and how willing they are to be consumed by it.
But neither speaks, so they take the only presented option.
“I’ll get my things”, Anthony says, and turns to the bedroom. Asa tries to not make a fool of himself by sobbing, but he can’t help the tears that fall once Anthony’s out of sight.
That night, alone in his bed, Anthony dreams of an alley full of rats and an ache in his chest.
Asa dreams of empty hallways of blinding white light and a feeling that he will never be whole again.
------
Anthony has never had a problem sleeping. He hits the pillow and he’s out like a light. That’s how he works. So why is he staring at the ceiling for the third night in a row, trying to make his brain shut up?
It’s been two weeks since he last saw Asa. They’ve exchanged messages, all quiet pleasantries and well wishes on their various work events, but they haven’t discussed their last conversation. There’s been no mention of seeing each other in person, and certainly no talk of dreams.
Anthony, for his part, wants nothing to do with the dreams he is having lately. The nights he’s been able to sleep, he closes his eyes to see Asa, standing on an opposite street corner, then turning his back and leaving with another man. He sees the bottom of a glass with no one there to drink with him. He sees himself without a home or a friend in the world.
As desperate as he is for sleep (as desperate as his colleagues must be, too, because he’s become basically non-functional at work), he can’t bear another dream like that.
When he hears a knock at his door at one in the morning, he assumes it must be the sleep deprivation getting to him. He humours it anyway and slips out of bed.
He opens the door to see Asa, but not as he’s ever seen him before. His hair is matted on one side, his jacket is misbuttoned, and his eyes are drooping with exhaustion.
“Anthony”, he breathes. “I’m so sorry. Did I wake you?”
“No”, Anthony rasps, then clears his throat. “No, I couldn’t sleep.”
“Me neither. May I…”, he gestures into the flat.
Anthony moves to the side and allows him in, closing the door behind him. As the light from the window catches Asa’s face, Anthony realizes that he is drenched from head to toe. His addled mind only then picks up on the sound of heavy rain outside.
“You must have walked here,” Anthony says, looking at Asa’s wet clothes, still unsure if he’s seeing things correctly or if this is all an apparition from his own exhaustion.
“Ah, yes.” Asa’s nerves radiate throughout the room. He shakes his head and takes a step backwards towards the door. “Which was likely ill-advised. I don’t know what I’m doing, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t-”
“You’re shivering”, is all Anthony can say in response. He wonders if his brain has enough function left to do something useful, or if he’ll just keep stating facts.
Asa swallows. His voice has gone quiet when he speaks again. “Yes, it’s quite cold out.”
The way Asa’s shoulders rise to his ears, either due to the cold or his own embarrassment, finally spurs Anthony into action. He darts into the bathroom and grabs a towel, returning to wrap it around Asa’s shoulders. He then guides him to a chair at the kitchen table and starts rummaging through his cupboards for cocoa.
“I’m afraid I’m getting everything all wet”, Asa says when the silence stretches. He sounds dazed, as if he can’t quite remember how he got wet in the first place.
Anthony turns back to him and takes in the depth of the darkness under his eyes. “When was the last time you slept?”
Asa looks at him, caught. “A few days ago. Honestly, I haven’t had a proper night’s sleep since…”
“Me neither.”
“Really?”
Anthony nods. Far too exhausted to try to hide his tears, Asa lets out a weak sob. In an instant, Anthony crosses the table and crouches next to him. He grabs one of his hands, then feeling how cold they are, grabs the other as well and starts kneading at the skin.
“I just don’t understand it”, Asa says when he’s caught his breath. “Even when you’re not there, I dream about missing you. And I don’t want to scare you away because I think you are quite possibly the best thing that’s ever happened to me, and I think losing you might…but I shouldn’t be putting that on you, that’s not fair. I must seem mad, this mad man who chased after you when you just wanted to buy a book-”
“Asa-”
“-and who now has these wild dreams about you and can’t even distinguish those dreams from reality! And! Who now has shown up in your house in the middle of the night and is dripping all over your furniture and probably ruining the carpet-”
“Asa, please-”
“-I’m so sorry, I don’t know what I was thinking, I’ve just been so tired-”
“Asa”, Anthony finally cuts through, his voice firm as he cups the man’s face in his hands. Asa’s eyes remain wild and panicked for a moment, then he settles and sinks against Anthony’s hands slightly.
“I’ve dreamt about missing you too.”
Asa’s lips tremble, but he seems to have spent all his words. He looks imploringly at Anthony, who sighs and drops his hands, heaving himself into a chair beside Asa so they can talk properly.
“I’ve felt like I’ve been losing my mind since I met you”, Anthony starts. “I don’t understand any of this either. I’ve spent my life trying to make sense of this universe, and I for the life of me cannot make sense of this. And that’s terrifying.”
“I didn’t mean to scare-”
“No, not that you’re terrifying, you are…well, you are quite possibly the best thing that’s ever happened to me, too.” His voice trembles, and he pauses. For all this vulnerability, Anthony still hates crying in front of other people, and he’d like to keep some composure here. “And as strange and terrifying as it is, I would much rather figure this whole thing out together than spend any more time apart.”
Asa’s cold hands grip Anthony’s tightly. “Me too.” Anthony smiles gently, and Asa leans forward to embrace him before remembering his wet clothes and stopping himself. “Oh, I should really change before-”
Anthony shakes his head fondly, then pulls him in and holds him tightly. “So we’ll both change. That’s alright with me.”
-----
“You know what’s odd?”, Asa says, his head resting on Anthony’s chest, many well-rested nights later.
“What’s that?”, he responds as he strokes his fingers down Asa’s forearm.
“In all my dreams, I never see your eyes. You’ve always got sunglasses on.”
Anthony’s hand stills. When it doesn’t resume, Asa tilts his head to see his face. Anthony speaks to the ceiling.
“I wear sunglasses in my dreams, too. Usually not in the bookshop, but any time we’re around other people, day or night.”
“What a strange detail. Why do you think…?” Asa trails off, not even able to form the question. They’ve discussed many dreams by now and laughed off the shared details whenever they came up before, assuming that they had just influenced each other’s dreams through their conversations. This, though, is new territory - it’s a shared detail they’ve never discussed.
Anthony finally looks down and meets Asa’s gaze. “I think I’ve realized why I can’t quite remember your name in my dreams.”
“Oh?”
“It’s because I don’t call you by your name, at least not often. I always call you Angel.”
Asa’s breath catches, and though he can’t quite figure out why, his eyes begin to water. “I’ve heard that before”, he whispers.
Anthony shifts them so they can look at each other properly, the duo turning on their sides towards each other. They keep their faces close as if sharing a secret.
“Have you?” asks Anthony, his voice filled with a wonder he usually reserves for his study.
“You’ve called me that in my dreams, too. And, I know it’s not my name, but somehow, it just feels…right.” His teary eyes finally give way, a drop sliding down his face. “It’s like I’m at home when you call me that.”
Anthony’s eyes start to burn in return, and he clenches his jaw to keep his composure. “Well, maybe I’ll have to start calling you Angel, then.”
Hearing it said aloud, Asa melts against the pillow. He nods quickly, “Yes, I think I would like that very much.”
-----
Over time, their dreams start to repeat and blend together. Where Asa once imagined the two of them meeting as medieval knights, he now dreams of them talking to neighbouring business owners. Where Anthony dreamt of listening to Asa read something aloud in his bookshop, he now dreams of watching over a garden with him at the start of creation. For every fantastical, impossible thing they imagine, there is a mundane task or a quiet night spent in each other’s company.
They try to rationalize the change. At first, they reason that Asa had told Anthony, for example, about being in the cemetery in Edinburgh, so his subconscious was actually just recalling a story he had heard. Any time they do this, though, there are details that they’re both sure were never mentioned in the initial telling, but which occurred in both their minds.
Asa spends his free moments in the shop pouring over books about dreams and telepathy and any theory he can get his hands on, but there’s nothing substantial enough for him to actually believe. Anthony, never content to not find an answer to his question, speaks to colleagues at his university, carefully trying to get their insight without revealing it’s him who is experiencing these shared visions. He also comes up empty.
So he’s understandably surprised when, as they’re toasting their one-year anniversary after a lovely dinner, Asa says, “I think I have the answer.”
Anthony perks up. “And what’s that, Angel?”
“I know you want a proper explanation for all of this, something that resolves all our questions and all these impossibilities, but I really think we’ve exhausted our options.”
“Agreed.”
“But I also think that impossible things are often just limited to their time. Look back at the whole of history: air travel, wireless communications, so many things that were once unimaginable were realized to be possible eventually.”
“So you’re saying at some point down the line, they’ll figure out our shared dreams like they’re a…technological innovation?”
“I’m saying”, Asa sighs good-naturedly, placing his glass down, “that we’ll never have all the answers. There will always be things we know, and things that we choose to believe. And I have chosen to believe that you and I have found each other in a thousand lifetimes before this, and we’re just lucky enough to have some of the memories still floating around.”
Anthony gazes at the man across from him, his vision blurring. When he finds himself unable to respond, Asa just smiles, his hardfought confidence shining through, and lifts his glass again.
“And for what it’s worth, Crowley, I plan to find you in every lifetime after this”, he finishes, clinking his glass to Anthony’s and taking a sip, his smile pressed against the rim.
If Anthony didn’t know how hopelessly in love he was before, he surely does now. Smitten, something in the back of his head whispers.
“You’re quite the romantic”, Anthony finally replies.
“Well, of course,” says Asa. “How could I not be when I’ve found you?”
-----
Anthony’s a man of science, true. But more than that, he’s a man of wonder. He looks up at the sky and marvels about what humanity has come to understand, but also at how much they do not and cannot understand. How there is so much potential in this ever unknowable universe, so many possibilities, and they’ve only just scratched the surface.
And while he might have found some comfort in having a rational answer for what it is exactly that he and Asa share, he’s never been one to shy away from the ineffable.
So on a quiet, ordinary day, Anthony takes Asa’s hand and leads him to a garden.
The setting sun pours through the leaves just as it did in Eden, in St. James Park, at the Tree of Life. It warms his skin and catches a knowing glint in his partner’s eyes which tells him he’s remembering the same places. Anthony wonders if there is any sight in the universe which wouldn’t make him think of his Angel.
When they’ve reached the center of the garden, Anthony stops walking and holds both of Asa’s hands in his. Asa stares back at him with an open affection that still, after all this time, staggers him.
“I may never properly understand how we’re…as connected as we are”, Anthony begins. “I may also never know how I got so damn lucky. But the thing I do know, with all my heart, is that I would like to spend this entire lifetime with you.” He reaches into his breast pocket and pulls out a simple ring.
Asa laughs lightly, tears already rolling down his face. “You’ve become quite the romantic yourself.”
“Well, you’re a good influence on me.”
Asa steps closer and holds out his hand. Anthony slides the ring onto his finger, then kisses him soundly. When they separate, they keep their foreheads pressed together, the day’s final beams of sunlight flickering across their closed eyelids.
“What do you think we did?” Asa says softly, still in their embrace. “To deserve this, time and time again?”
Anthony smiles and pulls away to look at Asa properly. “I think we loved each other, Angel. Simple as that.”