body, a, a:hover { cursor:url('http://www.dolliehost.com/dolliecrave/cursors/cursors-all/arrow17.gif'), auto } Your name is JAKE ENGLISH and you are 21 YEARS OLD. You have a love of HIKING and ADVENTURING, along with an OBSESSION with TRAVELLING. When your grandmother passed away a few years ago, you decided to TRAVEL THE WORLD. You currently live out of your BACKPACK.
When you were just a lad, your GRANDMOTHER told you that your dreams were SPECIAL. Unfortunately, she DIED before she could fully explain this to you. You find yourself currently living in a SCRAPPY apartment in the MIDDLE OF NOWHERE. Your DREAMS are becoming quite interesting...
(Your name is JAKE ENGLISH, and you have learned that you are a DREAM WALKER.)
Jake is rubbing circles and designs into your hands with his thumbs, and it’s making it hard to concentrate on his words. You have to fight against the urge to just fall forward, and rest your head on top of his. God, you’re so tired. And it’s fucking weird because that’s rarely something you admit. You don’t sleep. It’s a fact more than anything. Thinking about being tired is just…a waste of energy. Because you’ll never not be tired.
You're glad when he exhales because it means your voice can cut through his panic. An absolutely monstrous swell of affection crashes through your chest and you try your best to swallow it down.
Now is really not the time for all these dastardly mood swings.
You watch the light reflect off his glasses as he leans his head back, and you have to say you are a tad surprised when he asks you about your next move. Your thumbs stutter in their pattern across the tops of his hands, continuing after a brief pause.
You are used to taking the lead, so this shouldn't catch you off guard. But it does. You never thought Dirk would... come asking for you like this.
"... We should start with baby steps." You murmur after a moment of silent thought. Your eyes are back down on your hands, watching the patterns you trace on his pale skin. "Take everything one day at a time. We're in a right bloody mess, I get that. but.." You release one of his hands to rub at your forehead, trying to come up with a solid idea. You've spent most of your adult life taking baby steps, but it's the only way you know how to deal with things.
"First off, I think we need to figure out the... bond. Thing." You say, your thumbs moving into figure eights. "Because somehow I knew you had hurt yourself, and I knew how to help. Then we can figure out everything else, yeah?" You question, looking up at him.
God this is so awkward. How the fuck do you even begin? Your stomach is still churning with the emotional turmoil you’re still feeling, and the dull pounding headache that’s throbbing within your skull is making it difficult to find the right words.
You’re not sure how you expect him to react. Maybe to looked shocked, worried, confused. To splutter a bit as he answers. To have a flash of pain ghost across his face thanks to you bringing up memories of deceased family members. To say ‘no’.
Your thumbs begin to trace tiny patterns on his hands, trying to be soothing. The look in his eyes unsettles you.
It becomes clear that your instincts were right when you feel the pain leave your hands. Something in your body loosens, as if you had been tense for days. Then again, that could be a by product of the bond that the two of you are still working out. Golly, you really haven't set any time aside for that have you?
You shake yourself mentally. Keep on track. Dirk is possibly having an anxiety attack and you don't blame him, but you would find it top if you could calm him down just a titch.
He's talking about the phones. Your drifting fingers glance over what feels like a blister.
"If she did talk to him, it means they must have been quite close." You say, then shake your head slightly. "Blimey, I'm just a little worried that someone's been in my head as well. I can see why gran never wanted me near any other 'walkers."
You hear him take a breath that sounds more like a gasp for air. You look up at him from where your gaze had slid to your hands, worried.
"Dirk," you start, giving his hands a light squeeze. It doesn't seem to hurt you so you don't think it hurt him. "Need you to calm down a bit, mate. It's alright. We're going to figure this out, I promise."
"...I'm sorry if this is bothering you but I- I knew you were in pain. And somehow I knew that being close to you would make it better. I'm running on instinct and it damn well seems to be working." You wheeze out a chuckle, trying to lighten the darkness that seems to have seeped into the room around the two of you.
God this is so awkward. How the fuck do you even begin? Your stomach is still churning with the emotional turmoil you’re still feeling, and the dull pounding headache that’s throbbing within your skull is making it difficult to find the right words.
You can't say you were expecting this when you received his message earlier.
He's falling apart in front of you. You don't think you've ever seen him quite this worked up. His entire body is trembling and you can see the muscle in his jaw working as he clenches it and you feel like you used to when you found an injured creature on your island. The hardwood underneath your sock feet groans as you take a step forward, finding that his words make your stomach feel heavy.
You.. didn't know other walkers could erase memories, but that's what it sounds like Dirk's brother has done. The idea frightens you- memories are all you really have, and you consider yours to be very important.
The name Jade Harley leaves his mouth in a whirlwind and you freeze entirely.
He continues on and you catch pieces of pictures and forgotten phone calls but your mind has gone absolutely still because you really don't understand how his brother knew your grandmother.
Some part of you is recognizing that the calmness that has set over you is abnormal for the amount of information you've just been given, but you're partially remembering the day you found an injured wildcat and gran had to help you get it to the mainland so you could help it. You remember the snarling and the blood on its paws and you remember how quickly it healed.
You don't like seeing Dirk like this. It pops the image of him centered in your head- calm, cool Dirk Strider with a mask of ice and wit sharp like his sword. He reminds you of the wildcat.
Gran always did tell you to focus on the wound first.
His head smacks the wall behind him with an impressive thud, and that plus the impressive shock of white pain that flares up your arms snaps you into motion. You don't answer him right away, instead pulling his hands out of his pockets with gentle fingers. It takes you a moment to pull the gloves off as well, but when the two of you flinch at the exact same time your suspicions are confirmed.
"...Knew it." You mutter, taking his hands into yours. They feel like ice.
"Yes, she was." You answer after a moment, you eyes on his hands. There's an echo of pain that runs through your fingers before it starts to fade, and you wonder vaguely if the two of you can somehow heal each other. To grab at his hands at all was entirely an impulse. His hands still appear to be chapped and red- maybe you can only take away the pain.
"Jade Ethel Harley. Didn't use the telephone often, built robots, and spent most of her time on the internet in private forums, talking to other dream walkers." You say. A funny ache settles in your chest. She was warning Dirk's brother. At that time she must have believed the island was impenetrable. ...You still don't really remember her using the phone. Ever, actually.
"They knew each other, obviously. How in the dickens they did I'm afraid I don't know. Gran- she was so wary of phones. Worried they could find her. I don't actually.. clearly remember her using them. I know we had one." You muse, looking up at him.
Your phone vibrates a few minutes later, and you can’t tell if you hate or love Jake for replying so quickly. With some effort, you haul yourself back up into a sitting position, freeing one arm from Lil Cal in order to reach towards your phone.
Jake opens the door looking about as good as you feel, and a sharp shooting bolt of guilt lances through you as you wonder if some of your naseau and general crappy feelings leaked over onto him.
You catch a glimpse of orange and a concerned look as you move to close the door. It terrifies you, and you feign trouble with the lock on the door before turning back to him.
You didn't think the smell was that strong. Bollocks. Hopefully he'll think you were just cleaning or something. People still clean with rubbing alcohol sometimes!
(oh who are you kidding he totally knows. However he hasn't said anything, so maybe you've gotten away with it.)
You move into the apartment, watching as he leans against the wall to your right. He moves in a way which suggests he has something on his mind- your eyes catch hunched shoulders, the curve in his spine; body language that yells leave me alone, I am uncomfortable.
You don't expect him to mention your grandmother. Or his brother, for that matter. You find yourself perplexed.
You are silent for a moment, trying to think through your surprise.
"Did you find something?" You ask first, trying to put the pieces together in your head. Gran never talked to anyone off the island, as far as you can remember. "Did he try to get in contact with you or the like? I.." You rub your forehead. "My grandmother didn't really talk to anyone. I reckon she had acquaintances on the internet, but I assume that was as far as any of her relationships went."
When you stop your blathering you realize that Dirk hasn't said anything. He's stock still against your wall. You fear you've said something wrong, though you're not sure what it was.
"Did something happen?" You ask, a little worried.
Your phone vibrates a few minutes later, and you can’t tell if you hate or love Jake for replying so quickly. With some effort, you haul yourself back up into a sitting position, freeing one arm from Lil Cal in order to reach towards your phone.
Why is the bloody screen so foggy? You didn't think it was that dirt-
Oh, right. Glasses.
You reach across the table to grab at them, hooking the frames behind your ears as another message pings at you. Pings, not sirens. You had changed that right after sending your first message.
Oh.
Wait, right now?
You glance around the kitchen and then bite out a curse, sending a quick alright then! and then forcing yourself up and about. It would have been better if you had gone to him because gosh your apartment is a mess. You were cleaning before... at some point. You grab the broom from behind the front door and begin to sweep frantically, picking up dirt and dust and bits of broken glass.
The anxiety sets into your chest as you work, sweeping away the remnants of the other night. You don't like when you drink. You don't like how it makes you feel and you don't appreciate the bloody hangovers you get the next day. But you've been coping with your life for so long and.. sometimes you don't want to cope anymore. It's the only way you can forget. It's horrible and the alcohol burns your throat and after a while you don't care if your glass breaks. But it lets you forget.
You remember your grandmother teaching you about addiction and teaching you how to pronounce alcoholism (hard c, hol like hall) but no one ever told you it could happen to you. Addictions and pains and problems were all written in dusty textbooks happening to other people in other countries so far, far away from you.
You scrape the remnants of your dustbin into the garbage and try to ignore the looming guilt you feel.
You've just shoved the rest of your job search papers into the garbage when he knocks on the door. You stare at the garbage bin in your hand, realizing there's no way to hide it. It ends up thrown behind the counter where you hope Dirk won't notice it. It's better if he doesn't know. It's better if no one ever knows.
A vain attempt is made at smoothing out hair and clothes before you answer the door. It doesn't do much- you still look like you haven't slept in days. That, you think, was probably the drinking. You force that thought out of your head as you pull the door open, meeting pointy black shades.
The relief at seeing him in front of you is palpable. You feel something in your chest crack, feel your shoulders release the tension you didn't know you were holding. It is really quite good to see him. You also know he's gone and buggered up his hands but you don't know how and you can't explain how you know. You just do. It's rather frustrating.
"Afternoon, mate." You say, sidestepping to allow him in. You don't miss the gloves he's wearing.
You are not going to call him. Nope. You are going to lay right here on your floor and wait for your stomach to unknot itself. You refuse to get your knickers in a bundle just because you had a measly little flashback! Gadzooks, you thought you were better then this!!
You jump about two feet off the ground when your laptop pings.
It takes you a second to remember that you are still logged into pesterchum and another solid minute to calm your racing heart. (Sirens. Your notification ringer reminds you of the sirens. Why hadn't you noticed that before? You should change that. Soon.) With a grunt you manage to haul your bottom off your kitchen floor, head swimming, and get yourself into a chair. Your fingers tingle uncomfortably. The walk over to the coffeeshop seems like years ago. You close your eyes for a brief moment, remembering a sudden flash of orange in your memories. That definitely wasn't there before. Was that the bond? Are you and Dirk just going to start molding together like a damned action figure? What in blazes were you doing again?
The laptop pings. You flinch.
Oh right, pesterchum.
You reach over and grab the edge of your laptop, dragging it towards you. Papers from earlier crunch and fold underneath it, but you are past caring about them. There's only one person who would be messaging you right now, and you know who it is before you open the window.
Time to chat? You glance at the crumpled papers across your table.
I've all the time in the world. You send, flexing your fingers. Before you really think about it you send another message.
d;you want me to come ovre/
*over?
You frown and flex your fingers again, beginning to think the pain in your hands isn't yours. You weren't clutching your knees THAT hard.
It's hard to chat over pesterchum about these sorts of matters, you tell yourself as you wait for his reply, lightly tapping your fingers on the table. You are being a gentlemen by offering to meet up. It is not because you are worried or in pain or just being a daft buffoon and wanting to see him. Not at all.
It is precisely two o'clock in the afternoon when you hand in a resume to the coffee shop, completed with your false identity. The girl you hand it to has purple hair and way too many facial piercings. You don't think she was working when you and Dirk were here.
You grin nervously as she glances down at the sheet, teeth playing at the gold ring in her lip.
"Jacob Borbaur, huh?" She mumbles, then shrugs a shoulder. She's turned around and left you before you can blink, yelling to tell you to expect a phone call in the next two weeks or so. That's normal. This is normal, you tell yourself, running a hand along the back of your neck as you exit the store. It's still rather cool outside- you shove your hands in your pockets and hunch your shoulders against the wind.
Getting a job. Working. This is what normal people do. They find someplace that suits their fancy, settle down and find employment. Normal.
So why do you feel so uneasy?
The walk to the apartment is short, thank goodness gracious- you take the stairs two by two, hurrying to get in the door because space heaters are an absolutely fantastic invention and you currently have two running. You sigh as the door unlocks, flexing your cold fingers.
It's been a handful of days since you've last seen Dirk, but this time you don't mind the wait. You think the talk the two of you had helped to ease your nerves a little- discovering the bond was terrifying enough, but when you really understood what it meant...
You are used to being alone. You are used to fighting for your own daft survival, playing adventureman, travelling around the world, switching names and faking ID's. Being alone is easy because the only one who gets injured is you. Now, it's you and Dirk. It's a strange change but you think you're adapting quite quickly.
Your boots thump about as you kick them off, moving further into the warmth of your apartment. The kitchen table is absolutely cluttered with the remnants of your job search activities- which you gave up on because let's be serious, you are already so awfully clumsy that being a waiter or a camp leader would probably end in termination (and a couple missing teeth). Construction jobs were also off your list- you were still worried that someone would recognize you from the last one.
You sit down, glancing over papers at random.
...What the bloody hell do normal people do now?
You are so bored, good golly gosh!
After a while of thumb twiddling, balancing awkwardly on your chair legs and clicking aimlessly through job listings on your laptop, you decide to clean. A night or so ago you had a nightmare and... it shows. You really need to stop drinking, you know that, but you're not sure if you can. The tequila bottle is almost empty. You stare at the label for a moment, rolling the cool glass in your hands before putting it back into the cupboard.
The headache hits you without warning.
The pain wedges itself between your eyes as if someone hit you- you blink and stumble, sitting down hard. Your chair gives off a feeble squeak as you groan, resting your elbows on your knees. You pull your glasses off, throwing them onto the table where they land with a clatter.
"Sweet mother of.." you spit between gritted teeth, massaging your temples. You don't know what brought this on. The weather? You know your body is more attuned to tropical climates but this is just absurd-
Your stomach rolls. A whirlwind of different emotions flow through your head, violent and painful. You recognize most of them for a fleeting moment. Confusion, loneliness... pain. And when it finally seems to slow down, you feel small. Small and terrified and-
It's late as all hell when you hear the shore sirens go off. You jerk awake, peeling a comic book from your cheek. Red light is flashing through your window, creating creepy shadows from all your assorted skeletons!
It looks cool but you better go find Gran and get her to turn the sirens off. If the water gets really high you might have to-
There are boats on the shore. You are confused, and then very, very afraid.
You grab your gun and run, your heart pounding. Thunder hits and you slip down the hardwood stairs, hitting the wall. Calling for Gran, she's not in her office, she's always in her office!-
Get outside, there's people on the island- fear and confusion and you're so, so scared-
gunshots and yelling and thunder and you're screaming for her but you don't see her-
a flash of orange? what-
pain, pain pain pain there's someone behind you oh my god there's a needle in your arm--
You jerk back with a shuddering gasp. It takes you a minute to remember where you are. At some point you fell off the chair and curled around your knees on the floor. Your stomach is in knots and your eyes are leaking and you're scared, you're so scared there's still a scar on your wrist-
You take another shuddering breath. In. Out. Breathe, English. You feel like you've just run a marathon. It feels wrong. You don't run marathons, you build houses and climb trees. Your heart is pounding and you struggle to calm yourself down.
That was a flashback, then. You thought those days were over, but you have been proven quite wrong. You make a valiant attempt to get up but end up on your back instead, watching the ceiling spin.
Fucking hell. You know that didn't come out of nowhere. That was from Dirk, you just know it. But you can't go storming into his apartment every time something goes wrong. You don't- you're not dependent on him. You can't expect him to fix all your problems for you.
Your hands ache. You think you were clenching them through that memory.
You decide to stay on your floor instead of finishing the tequila because you know it's the right thing to do.
Checking on Dirk seems like the right thing to do as well.
After a moment Dirk begins to pull away from you. You think this is rather unfortunate (goodness, he was warm) before he speaks and your thoughts on his (warm, solid) body are momentarily pushed to the side.
Jake is leaning back on his hands, glancing around your room. He seems a little…perplexed, and curious. You guess the shift in the room’s decor took him by surprise a little, which makes sense because spontaneous environment changes tend to be more than a little unsettling.
You grin a little at his response. It's obvious that in this moment, the connection between the two of you has changed- you won't know if it will carry into your waking interactions, but... you kind of hope it does.
"Well then, I'd best be off." You say, lingering for a moment. If you are completely honest with yourself, you don't want to leave. There's a level of peace inside his dreamworld that you don't think exists in the real world. But alas, your time is growing short.
"See you in a bit, ol' chap!" You say, smiling as you close your eyes.
It only takes you a moment of visualizing your apartment and then you're awake, blinking blearily and the sound of evening traffic ringing in your ears.
..Jesus criminy, were you really out for that long?
You blink again, rubbing sleep out of your eyes. A particularly loud honk makes you wince, and you stumble over to the window; pushing it closed. Your blanket falls to the floor in a heap, knocking your glasses off the table as it falls. You stumble over in sock feet, groping blindly until you find them and carefully slide your glasses back on your face.
...well, this is a first. Usually you time these things, make sure you're only in a dream for an hour or so. You sit down, the springs on the couch squealing in protest. Details from earlier are a little fuzzy...
Oh, wait. The coffee shop. Dirk running out. Now you remember. You took a nap.
...Ooooh. You took a nap. You took a nap and the bond pulled you to Dirk. That.. sort of makes sense?
You sigh, running a hand through your hair. The peace you felt before is just an echo in your passing thoughts, and you feel its loss like a missing tooth. It's been barely three minutes since you woke up and you already miss him. You definitely think that's the bond at work- it's easier to recognize that magnetic like pull when you're awake.
The change in the room seems to have spooked Jake a little, because suddenly he’s drawing his gun and raising his head, looking about in a bit of a panic. You should be more alarmed about him pulling a weapon in your Dream room, but…
You falter as he looks around the room, realizing that you look like a tool with your gun out. You push it back into its holster on your leg quickly, reminded of harder times when the fabric closes around the top with a click.
Jake grins at you a little, and while this may just be your personal space issues acting up again, he seems /a lot/ closer to your face than he was a few seconds ago.
After a moment Dirk begins to pull away from you. You think this is rather unfortunate (goodness, he was warm) before he speaks and your thoughts on his (warm, solid) body are momentarily pushed to the side.
You pull back as well, wondering if you were making things awkward. It's been years since you've had your first interaction with a person besides gran but sometimes you miss social cues like that.
(missing said cues usually leaves you a horrible, flushing wreck, but alas.)
You lean back on your hands as the two of you separate, taking a moment to glance around the room. In a sense, you're still in the same place- you believe the room is the same size and the window still opens to some large body of water- but so much of it has changed that it could very well be another room entirely. You again wonder what's happened to your ruins.
"Get out of here?" You ask, raising your eyebrows. It's hard to fight the laughter in your throat down- you grin instead. "This is your party, as they say. You only need to wake up. Or maybe I should leave first." You tack on sheepishly, scratching the back of your head. It's getting harder to remember certain dream things like that (You think you have to leave the dream first, but.. was that just you being paranoid?) which leads you to believe that you've been here for quite a while.
"Would you.. want to meet up later? Maybe to.. sort all this out, I mean." No, you don't know what you mean. You just really want to see him outside this dream- You want to know if you'll feel this.. relief when you see him awake as well.
andulkaphoto
dailybridgerton
theartofmadeline
stormborns
pixelskylines
germansingergirl
