His Dreams of Memories

4

Most bars would be closed at two am, it was quite an ungodly hour and people need and want their sleep. Luckily for Julian, he happens to be best friends with a bard owner who stays up at ungodly hours for people that needed a drink.

"I'm going mad, Damien!" Julian moaned, dropping his head onto the bar counter. He poked at the whiskey glass in front of him, it was his third so far. "Put me in a psych ward before this becomes worse!"

The bartender rolled his eyes. "You're overreacting, Jules." He stopped when the brunette raised an eyebrow. "Okay, probably the wrong thing to say to a drama queen, my apologies."

Julian took the glass into his hands and tipped his head back to finish the rest. "I-I mean, you don't see people from your dreams in real life, and vise versa." His azure eyes widened. "Do you?"

"You're drunk, Jaskier." The bard rolled his eyes and shakily stood from his stool, ignoring him entirely. "I can't imagine the headache you're going to have tomorrow."

"Jules? Julian? Julian Alfred Pankratz!" That got the brunette's attention. "You zoned out, you should probably stop drinking. I can't imagine the headache you're going to have tomorrow." Damien set a glass of water and four ibuprofen in front of his friend. "Need a ride home?"

Julian blinked, then shook his head., quickly taking the pills before sliding out of his stool. "Called an Uber, I'll be fine." His usual happy, dramatic, sarcastic voice had dropped to a whisper. "Goodnight, Damien."

"Leave me alone, Lambert," Jaskier growled. He wasn't quite drunk like the Witcher had said, but he wasn't completely sober either.

Lambert sighed. "Can't. Need to talk to you." Sarcasm was one of the things the Witcher loved to use most, but it wasn't in his tone. "Serious shit, Jaskier, so I need you... more sober than this." He gestured with his hands to the bard's entire body.

The innkeeper watched the two anxiously from behind the counter. He was lucky that they were heading away, it looked like the two were about to fight, but he didn't know that Jaskier wasn't big on throwing punches.

"What about?" Jaskier fumbled with the key before kicking his door open, placing his lute against a chair and the key on top of a table. "If it's about-"

"Geralt." Lambert finished with a nod. "It's about him. Him and you to be exact." The Witcher took a seat at the table, first putting his swords against the wall. This was going to be a long talk.

"Hey, kid, we're here." The Uber tapped Julian's leg. "That'll be $6.50 please." He held his hand out impatiently, not wanting to deal with a drunk any longer, or someone who was asleep the entire ride.

Julian mumbled a 'sorry' then gave him a five and two ones. "Keep the change, sir. I don't need it." A yawn left his lips as he stepped out of the car, stretching his arms to the sky while watching the Mustang drive away.

If he was completely honest, he didn't want to go to bed. The dreams or whatever the hell they are have started doing something to his brain, that's his theory so far. Lambert, the silver-haired man, the bard Jaskier- none of them exist. They're all just dreams.