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theblueintheday2015-04-27 10:55 pm
bluedreaming) wrote in theblueintheday2015-04-27 10:55 pm
Entry tags:
[team sonic] clouds behind me
Starting word from here.
The title is from Tomorrow will be kinder by The Secret Sisters.
This is part five of Une aube suffit.
Guesses are for people who don't know. Kavinsky likes knowing. Ever since the first dream, when he wished for a nightmare and it came true, he's always controlled the outcome of everything, at least to a certain extent. Here there be dragons.
Except R—. His brain instantly shuts down that train of thought.
No.
But now all he does is wake and wake and wake and lie in a hospital bed surrounded by the white walls of mind canvases he can't paint and wait for someone to come by.
Someone with flowers, if he's lucky.
Someone who has ears that are a little too big and a face that squashes alarmingly when it smiles and whose name is Chanyeol. Somewhere, deep in the dark recesses of his subconscious where Kavinsky would never dare to explore without a full regiment of dragons, there's the dangerous thought that, even if he'd never met Chanyeol, he probably would have dreamed him.
Maybe I did dream him? he thinks instead. Maybe I dreamed him before the end.
But does it really matter?
Chanyeol walks in on never-exactly-graceful feet, fragile blossoms tucked into his arms, a clipboard wedged under one elbow, and projects happiness at him. He even calls him Joseph, and Kavinsky doesn't feel the need to correct him.
This is revolutionary, so he doesn't think about it.
He thinks instead about flowers, and rolls over to look at the drying arrangement on the table next to him. The nurse comes and adjusts his drip, but he's not counting drops anymore, and when his ribs twinge he breathes through it, falling asleep again, not to dream, but to wake up.
The title is from Tomorrow will be kinder by The Secret Sisters.
This is part five of Une aube suffit.
Guesses are for people who don't know. Kavinsky likes knowing. Ever since the first dream, when he wished for a nightmare and it came true, he's always controlled the outcome of everything, at least to a certain extent. Here there be dragons.
Except R—. His brain instantly shuts down that train of thought.
No.
But now all he does is wake and wake and wake and lie in a hospital bed surrounded by the white walls of mind canvases he can't paint and wait for someone to come by.
Someone with flowers, if he's lucky.
Someone who has ears that are a little too big and a face that squashes alarmingly when it smiles and whose name is Chanyeol. Somewhere, deep in the dark recesses of his subconscious where Kavinsky would never dare to explore without a full regiment of dragons, there's the dangerous thought that, even if he'd never met Chanyeol, he probably would have dreamed him.
Maybe I did dream him? he thinks instead. Maybe I dreamed him before the end.
But does it really matter?
Chanyeol walks in on never-exactly-graceful feet, fragile blossoms tucked into his arms, a clipboard wedged under one elbow, and projects happiness at him. He even calls him Joseph, and Kavinsky doesn't feel the need to correct him.
This is revolutionary, so he doesn't think about it.
He thinks instead about flowers, and rolls over to look at the drying arrangement on the table next to him. The nurse comes and adjusts his drip, but he's not counting drops anymore, and when his ribs twinge he breathes through it, falling asleep again, not to dream, but to wake up.