Coincidental Lovers // Calum hood a.u. [hold]

Prologue

Insanity.

It's a funny thing, insanity. It's just a word used for the people with different minds. Minds that travel farther and deeper than the mind of a not-so-complex person. I don't believe in insanity. Mostly because people say I'm Insane, which is bullshit. Not asylum insane, but crazy enough for my mom to take me to therapy.

I don't believe in coincidences either. Because everything happens for a reason. but unfortunately not everyone likes to have different perspectives. My family is narrow minded, which would explain why I'm sat in a a chair in the lobby of a small, blandly colored room, waiting for my therapist to see me.

Normally, I would be home already, but apparently there's another client, with a similar issue as mine or whatever.

The reason I'm here, is because of dreams. Only, they don't feel like dreams.

Monday, Wednesday, and Sunday, same exact dream every night for the last three months. They aren't nightmares, but actual dreams. Since I believe there's no such thing as coincidences, I can't help but think I'm getting these dreams for a reason. I kept insisting to my mom that I wasn't crazy, but I felt like the dream meant something.

She didn't believe me, as usual. Which is why I'm seeing a therapist three days a week.

I'm also having to take pills, because supposedly I have insomnia. Tuesday, Thursday, and Saturday, I never sleep. I can't. Even if Im Tired as hell, I can never sleep. And when I can't sleep, I think of the dreams. Fridays are normal, there's not much of a way to describe Friday. . .friday is just, Friday. I get good rest on Friday, I can't sleep on Saturday, then the dream occurs on Sunday, then again on Monday, I can't sleep Tuesday, the dream comes Wednesday, still can't sleep thrusday, then I sleep Friday. Then it repeats itself, like it has for the past three months. It's like a cycle. It's odd, really. There's no denying that it most certainly isn't normal. But there's also no denying that stuff like this doesn't just happen, either.

And as much as I resent the idea of having to go to therapy sessions regularly, I oblige because my mother would burst a blood vessel otherwise.

I sigh, my hands clenching and unclenching the the arms of the chair I was currently sat in, my knuckles going white each time I did so. Though I had become used to attending therapy, my nerves still twisted and churned every time I had to sit in the cold, bland lobby. Just waiting to explain something to someone who thinks I'm crazy just as my mother does.

Maybe there is something wrong, and that explains why I'm having dreams. But it's what the dream is about that gets my interest.

It's always the same. Nothing ever changes. Ever.

I'm not anywhere specific, I'm just somewhere. It's just me and this one other person, standing parallel to me. Dark hair, slightly tousled over the boys forehead, because the other person was indeed a male. He was tall, tan skin, dark eyes that I Almost drown in. He smiles at me, for only a second.

And then I wake up.

It's all strange, the feeling I get when I wake up, sitting bolt straight under the covers. Everything about it is so abnormal and so. . .odd. But there's always a few butterflies swirling on the inside of my stomach. It's weird. I want to figure it out more than anyone else, but it's just one of those things that look like they're not meant to be figured out.

I've never seen the boy in my dreams in real life, but everything about him seems so familiar.

And when I explain that exact part to others, that's when they're convinced my brain's gone nutty.

Exiting my thoughts, I stand, my hands releasing the arm rests and my knuckles becoming flush with color once more. I make my way down the silent hallway down to a water fountain that happened to be conveniently placed right by the room my therapist was currently seeing another patient in.

Sighing, the pads of my fingers press lightly on the fountain, a stream of water pouring out quickly as I catch the refreshing bit of water on my tongue. I swallow, straighten, and start to make my way back to where I had previously been sitting. But as I pass my therapists door once again, someone from the other side pulls the door open quickly, catching me off guard.

Out of sheer Instincts, my head bursts in that direction, and I am greeted by another face in place of where to door had previously been. I hadn't been prepared for what my gaze landed on, and I felt my eyes widening slowly, my lips parted slightly. The person mirrored my reaction, and had stopped in their tracks, gaping at me.

Dark hair. Deep eyes. Tan skin.

Him.

-

This is the worst prologue I have ever written I'm sorry

I can already feel that I'm going to screw up my own idea wow