Multi-fandom Imagines(ONHOLD)

Walking upon a dream ~ Adrian, Vampire Academy

Shout-out to Achelseabee on DeviantArt who drew the picture above. 

This is a gender neutral story. You can be whatever you sexually identify as.

Sleep is like a beast, awakened when your brain calls for a rest. Sometimes it comes when you ask it to. Sometimes it defies and waits, watching while you attempt to close your eyes. Other times, it'll come when you least want it to.

I know this exact feeling. That's because at the moment, the books lay in front of me. Studying is the worst! I had concluded hours ago. Now, I can barely keep my eyes open. The beast was reaching for my eyes, dragging the lids down over them.

Slouching, I stand up. I walk to the bed and fall down face first. The sheets were warm, soft. Easy to relax in.

To fall unconscious in.

Just like I did.

                       ~~

Something starts to materialize in the black sleep that surrounds me. Eventually, the scene becomes clear and I see a lovely flower paddock. The sky was blue over head. It was beautiful... Absolutely wonderful.

This area seemed to stretch on forever. An endless amount of roses, daffodils and dandelions.

But I'm not alone.

No. There's a boy, standing 30 to 40 metres away. His sable brown hair rippling in the slight breeze. The boy started to walk forward, a slight hop in his step. He was maybe, 6'1, 6'2 tall.  From my estimation.

As he got closer to me, I notice his dark emerald green eyes and his pale skin.

"W-who are you?" Everything was silent as he stopped in front of me. "The question is, who are you? I saw you this morning, the coffee shop. Down the street. I was sitting by the counter." I rack my brain. Trying to remember.

Yes. He was there. I hadn't taken much notice to him because I was immersed in a book. "Yeah, I remember. My names Y/N. But... Why are you in my dream?" It feels like such a weird question but he is so... visual.

"Magic" was all he said.

"Magic? What, are you from Harry Potter or something?" The boy laughed -maybe not a boy. Man. He looked about 20- and flashed his teeth. He was perfect. A perfect specimen.

"No. But I decided that I'd come see you. There is no harm in that right?"
"I guess not..."
"Good then. I'm Adrian." He holds out a hand, the smile still on his pretty face. There's no harm in talking to him... Right?

I smile back, taking his hand. We shake for a few seconds before Adrian let's go, and sits in the long grass. He takes some lemon grass and puts it in between his teeth.

It looked comfortable down there, among the violets and petunia's. I slowly sit down. The ground is comfortable! Its so weird that it feels this good.
"Adrian?"
"Yes, Y/N?"
"Magic. You said it was magic that got you here in my mind. Is that true?"
"No." Adrian's face is sad his lips turned down, no longer the happy smile he had before. "This is all in your head. This is your dream. You chose to think of me."
"Oh." Disappointment sits in the pit of my stomach.

Laying down, I stare at the sky. No sun, no clouds. Just blue. A pure, blue sky. Adrian stares at me for a moment before joining me. "Why'd you choose this place?" He spoke, curiosity and sadness in his voice.

"I chose this place because... because its so pretty. This is what I imagined the world was like before people came. Creating cities, destroying the earth. This is an alive spot, not like the hundreds of dead spots that this Earth now holds."

I turn my eyes to Adrian. He is frowning, I guess taking this in. "Your right... This earth is horrible, and we should conserve area's like this one. Your a smart cookie Y/N."

I blush. I can't help it.

"Thank you." I look back to the cloudless sky, Adrian's eyes still glued to me. I could feel them boring into the light tint on my cheeks. Then something fell into my hand.

It was his hand.

We lay like this for awhile. My eyes closed, facing the sky. Adrian's hand in mine. Then he shifted, putting his lips to my ear and whispering "goodbye Y/N."

Then everything went black.

                       ~~

Where is his hand? My fingers search the area around where he should have been. I sit upright, searching. But I'm in my bed. The bed I fell in last night. Disappointment fills my stomach again.

I stand up, and walk with cold feet to the desk. The book I was reading on a page about...

The earth's dead spots.

Maybe it really was a dream. Maybe he's not real.

But he felt real. It felt like he was still there, holding my hand.

I change clothes, put on a jacket and shoes, then race to the door. I grab the brush I always keep by the shoe rack and hurriedly brush my hair. Looking in mirror: It's fine.

But in the reflection, the clock reads 9:23. Shit! I swing the door open, nearly pulling the door handle off. Sprinting, I run for my bike. I barely use it, but it was an emergency.

Down the hill, a left turn, over the train tracks, right. The café was on the corner of this street.

I jump off the bike, still being at least ten metres from the bike rack and going at what feels like a hundred miles per hour. It hurts my legs but I soldier on. He could be there.

The bike gets shoved into the rack. I push the door open and collapse in the nearest chair.

Is he here? Is Adrian here?

No. No, he's not.

Embarrassment flares in my cheeks and I slump down in my chair. A waitress comes who's got fluffy hair, and asks for what I want. "F/d." Was all I muttered.

For twenty minutes I sit there in my sorrow. I'm an idiot for thinking he was real.

The bell on the cafe door rung and a man wearing a black jacket came in. His hoodie was up, and he had something very large under his arm.

This man talked to the guy at the counter, Manager Dave, and held out a hand. Dave shook it, and gestured to an empty place on the wall, beside the black counter.

Dark coat put the object he held on the wall. There was a velvet curtain over the top of it.

The dark-clothed man left.

A crowd started to form around the large, flat square. Curiosity burns at my insides, so I stand and weave in between the tables and squeeze past people, muttering apologies.

Eventually, I reach the front and stare at the painting. No curtain anymore. No. That lay on the ground.

It was an angel.

An Angel that looked just like me. It's eyes were closed, her/his mouth in a smile, hair seemingly waving in the wind.

It was laying in a meadow. The one I laid with Adrian in.

Then down below it, on the frame, the label read: In a purer world, Adrian Ivanshkov.

For a girl/boy who showed me the real world.

First Imagine! I hope that wasn't too long... But I loved writing it any way.

Hope you enjoyed reading it!