❇
Send me a ❇ and I will write a dream nightmare my character has about yours.
He’s trapped. Trapped in a circle of broken glass and reflections of pale green. Every punch leaves him just a little more cracked, every kick distorting him like the deepest and darkest corners of the boy craves. His throat burns and his eyes sting and even when the green surrounding him begins tinging red, he still collides fists in an explosion of glass shards.
When there’s a flash of yellow, he stops. She reminds him of sunlight, and he wants nothing more than to soak in her warmth and breathe her in. He approaches slowly, relaxing his trembling fist so he can smear his handprint on the glass she’s stuck behind.
She smiles at him and he clings onto it like a child would to a teddy bear. He swears with everything he has that her smile can power a city, that if he wrapped her in his arms she would feel like the sun.
But then it’s gone. Replaced with bloodied mats of golden hair, purple and blue smears that stand out on candlewax skin like black paint. She tears lines through the side of her head with her nails and agapes her mouth in a scream he can’t hear.
A panic pulses through him, squeezing his neck until it leaves marks. He curls his fingers into a fist and brings it forward in a rush intent on shattering, one that stops inches before it makes contact. He remembers earlier, when his figure broke under the force of his fist. He can’t do it. He can’t break her.
But her lips form words that beg him to do it. Destroy her, destroy her please. Please, please, please Beast Boy! He doesn’t. Tears burn trails down his face and he watches. Watches her knees give in, watches her collapse on the ground, still screaming in silence. He tries putting a voice to the scream, and once he does he can’t make it stop. He can feel her throat go raw, hear nothing but pain. And it’s his fault.
He presses his palms to his ears and sinks to the ground.
