Inception {Dreamnotfound}

23 | Haunted Relapse | 23

Karl told me I hadn't. That it didn't matter, as long as I learnt from it.

I want to believe that I have.

It's made easier by the fact I've managed to drown out the malicious side since that day, realise my mistakes and hate everything about what I almost made happen. So I have to have learnt something, even if it doesn't fix it.

But I feel like I could.

Maybe I'm like Karl, in that way. In the way we both have a piece missing, and are trying to work it out before starting another puzzle. And maybe that'll work for Karl, but I know it couldn't for me.

Not when the piece I'm missing is him.

I felt whole the day he told me he loved me. When I realised that the system was right, and this boy was what I was missing. The one who lays beside me now, blissfully unaware of the storm in my head. Through that mess I still watch over him though, using the sense of purpose to fill that hole created by the mess I made.

And maybe that's ridiculous. Fuelled only by my fear of losing him, returning to that emptiness I've feared since I felt something different to it.

I want that again.

I want to hold that boy in my arms, feel like the hell I put myself through and was put through by others, in the end was worth it. I want to have someone to really call my soulmate, my boyfriend, and learn what I've missed out on all those years.

I've always wanted to love them. My soulmate, him, the boy who is finally within reach. Know what it's like to kiss him, have him feel safe with me, prove to him that he's loved and that this can be the new normal for us both, something we can happily get used to together.

But only if he's ready, and that's what I want the most.

Quickly, I drag myself back out of my dreamworld, faintly hearing the sound of movement close by. I'm soon made aware that it's Karl, whose curled into himself further in what now looks like discomfort. The once peaceful expression has since been drained from his features, and his eyes screw up tighter against whatever is happening inside his head.

Gingerly, I rest my hand in his hair, cringing when the action at first makes him shiver. But slowly, he relaxes into the touch, and I let my hand sink into the fluffy curls, tangling fingers into strands before combing through them gently.

His bleary eyes flutter briefly, and he reaches out a desperate hand, scrambling around for something to hold onto. I present my own in hopes it'll suffice, and he clutches it tightly, digging pale crescent moons into my palms. Though the sudden sting of pain doesn't bother me in the moment, too intently focused on him, helping him as much as I can.

I think it's working for a second, when he turns so suddenly quiet I wonder if he's fallen peacefully asleep again. Yet I'm proven wrong when he begins to shake, and I quickly but gently pull the trembling boy into my arms. I settle him comfortably in my lap, wrapping the blankets around him haphazardly and my arms over the top.

Quiet sobs begin to echo in the dark room, muffled against the layers of fabric Karl seems to have resorted to burying himself in. Streaks of tears slide down his cheeks, glinting in the tiny spots of light.

"Hey, it's alright," I tell him, tracing slow, circular movements against his hoodie as I try to find the right words to say. "You're safe here, you're safe."

I repeat those words over and over, hoping they reach through his bleary haze. Nothing seems to work until I notice a familiar anxious habit of his, and his hands start scraping at his own neck.

"Hey, this isn't then," I tell the panicked boy, trying to keep my voice as even as possible despite the alarm in my head. "You're okay, this isn't that time. You're okay."

The words slowly begin to seep in, clawed panic slowing to nothing more than feeble scratches. I cringe at the mark in his neck, the pale skin now scraped raw and littered with tiny little marks. Gently, I lace my hand over his, caressing the back of his palms and willing his fingers to slacken. He shakes again in his sleep, wanting so badly to try again.

"Let go, Karl. Let go."

Thankfully, I begin to feel his grip loosen under mine. I take the opportunity to guide his hands away, threading our fingers together to stop any further damage being accidentally done.

His eyes flutter sleepily, a tired, pale hazel shade beneath. At last he begins to stir properly, gaze darting around the dimly lit room in search of an explanation. He settles on gazing at me, the confused and pained look in his eyes evident he knows enough. They glisten with the ghosts of tears, and erupt again before he can stop them.

Just like last time we were this close, he buries his head into my shoulder wordlessly. I don't press him for an explanation, deciding to let him get used to the comfort. So I spend those long moment providing it, doing whatever I can to make him feel better.

"It's alright," I whisper to him again, keeping my voice low to make sure I don't startle him. Tears soak into my shirt, and I'm now having to hold back my own. It's awful to see him like this, so broken by this world. "You're okay, Karl," I hum quietly, and he nods silently into my shoulder.

"You're safe here, safe with me."