Running. Cold. Trapped. Fear. Panic. Death.
Can't escape. Can't hide. Can't leave.
Stuck. Like an animal in a cage. Stuck and trapped and there isn't anywhere I can run where I am safe from him. There's no where I can go.
All I can do is run.
Run until my legs give way. Until my lungs stop working. Run until I can't run anymore.
Cold.
So cold it burns. The feeling of cold metal clamping down on my entire body. I can see my breath in the air. I can't feel myself anymore.
Can't breathe.
"Alexander!"
My head shot up, and I stopped in my tracks, trying to pin down the source of the noise, a disruption in the deathly silence of the night.
"Alexander, are you okay?! Come on! Come on, it's gonna be okay!" yelled the voice, seeming to be coming from all sides around me.
"Thomas?" I called back, recognizing the voice.
"ALEXANDER!"
~•~
"Alexander! It's okay, it's okay, I promise it's gonna be okay!"
My eyes shot open. It was dark, but I could feel my soft bed underneath me, and I knew that I was okay. Or at least, not dead.
There was a figure looming over me. For a moment, I thought it was the creature that was always hunting me in my dreams, and my breathing became irregular with panic. But as I squinted to try and make out facial features, I felt relief worm through my body.
"Thomas?" I whimpered as I tried to catch my breath.
"Yes! Yes, it's me!" he called back, relief heavily lacing his tone. I shot up and wrapped my arms around him, grateful for the warmth seeping back into my body. I felt him hug me back after a moment of hesitation, as if this had caught him off guard at first.
"Thomas," I repeated, clinging onto him as if he would dissolve in my arms if I didn't. My eyes were shut tight and my fingers were digging into the soft cotton of his shirt.
"What happened?"
"I— I don't know. A nightmare, I guess," I murmured as I let go of him. "Did I wake you up? Shit. I'm so sorry, I didn't mean—"
"It's okay, Alex," he said, his voice warm and gentle. He smiled at me, and all the cold in my body suddenly disappeared when he slid his hand against my arm.
I nodded in response.
"Wanna talk about it?"
I shook my head, crossed my arms in an attempt to seem collected, and avoided his gaze. My eyes slowly got used to the darkness, and I was able to make out the worried expression on his face.
"Nightmares are nothing to be ashamed of, Alexander. I have them all the time. Everyone does. It's okay."
I couldn't bring myself to meet his gaze. Warmth rushed into my cheeks, but this one was not welcome.
I couldn't think of anything to say, so silence hung heavy in the room for a good long time. Finally, Thomas carefully said, "My father died a good many years ago by the hands of someone else I really cared about. I sometimes still blame myself for what happened. I wonder if I could have saved him had I been there. And sometimes I have dreams where he comes to me and tells me that it's all my fault, that I let him die."
I glanced up at him. "Oh. I'm sorry. I didn't know."
He shrugged. "It's alright. It wasn't your fault, and it wasn't mine. I just tell myself that they're just dreams. That they can't hurt me."
"Does it work?"
Thomas grinned. "No. I usually go outside to catch my breath or talk to a friend to try and calm down."
I smiled in amusement. "Alright, well, in my dream, I was running away from something. Something dangerous. I felt like I was a panicked deer being chased by a hunter. I was afraid and hurt and breathless, but I kept running. Because it felt like if I stopped for even a second, it would get me. But I'm not sure what it is. It was like instinct powered my every move. I just had to run. I just had to escape whatever it was that was trying to get to me. And it was so cold. Unnaturally cold. Cold to the point where I was afraid I would drop dead and then whatever it was would take what it wanted."
The humor had drained from Thomas' eyes as I recounted the dream to him.
"Thomas?"
Suddenly, he snapped out of his state and an easy, reassuring smile appeared on his face. "It wasn't real. You're safe and you're okay."
I didn't know how to respond, so I just focused on the blanket.
"You know, one of my best friends always tells me that dreams are nothing more than twisted memories that your brain distorts and convolutes when you go to sleep."
"Your friend sounds like a smartass."
Thomas laughed, and I felt more at ease when he did. "That's a very accurate description of him, I think. Anyway, he told me that if you try to think of good, happy memories before you go to sleep, you're going to dream about them."
"Won't your brain just distort those memor—"
"Shut up."
"Sorry," I said, a smile tugging at my mouth.
"So I've tried it before. Sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn't. But I usually think of the games my family and I would play as a child."
"If I had to choose a happy memory..." I paused for a second and grinned. "God, it's kinda like I'm trying to fight back a dementor or something."
Thomas gave me a blank stare.
"You know, a dementor. From Harry Potter." I paused. "You've never read Harry Potter?"
"I don't even know what that is."
"You don't know what Harry Potter is?! What is wrong with you?!"
"I'm... sorry?" he said carefully.
"I have the books somewhere," I said as I flung the blanket off of me, turned on the lights, and went to retrieve the first one. "Here." I found it and handed it to him. "I won't tell you anything about it at all. But it's about this kid who finds out he has magical powers and it turns out he's a wizard celebrity and he goes to this school called Hogwarts so he can learn to control magic and his parents were killed by the evil wizard Voldemort and he was supposed to also be killed but the spell rebounded and Voldemort died but he didn't die and then he comes back to try and kill Harry and— wait. Uh, forget what I said, okay?"
Thomas was smiling at me as he accepted the book and set it to the side. "I'm assuming this is one of your happy memories?"
"Hmm? Oh! Yeah, I guess. My mom used to read me all sorts of stories before I went to bed. Harry Potter was one of my favorites, of course." I slipped back under the blanket and was quiet for a second. "Thanks for helping me calm down."
"Anytime. Is this a reoccurring dream?"
"Yep."
"Do you want... do you want me to tell you a story?"
I glanced up at him, my eyes widening in surprise.
"I'm telling you a story," Thomas decided for me. "And then you can get some sleep and I'll read the book." He edged slightly away from me and began his story. "Once upon a time—"
"Why do all stories start with 'once upon a time'?" I asked, cutting in.
Thomas glared at me. "Well, you're feeling better. Anyway, once upon a time, there was a giant kingdom, big enough for the kingdom to be split up into five separate divisions. Each division was ruled by a Lord or a Lady, who was apart of the council of the kingdom itself."
"Very complex."
"Yeah, well, it wasn't my idea. Anyway, one of the divisions adhered to the sky. They worshipped it, they depended on it, they lived in it. They treated it with respect. The sky was their home, their friend. They soon mastered the art of flying, and they soon mastered the art of reading the stars. They were able to talk to birds and bats and other creatures that spend their days flying. The people of this division needed the sky as much as they needed water and food to survive."
Thomas paused for a second. His hands began to pull on the cotton rim of his shirt absentmindedly. In a steady breath, he continued with, "Out of all of these divisions, these people were perhaps the most unique. They preferred the freedom of a vast open sky to that of a clustered village. They were different, but they were okay with that. The sky meant everything to them, and they would die to protect it. It was their way of life, and they knew nothing else. One day, the king of the entire kingdom, and the overseer of the council, died, and his grandson came into power. The new king was not quite as beloved as the old one. He tried to take control of the entire kingdom and each of the divisions. He wanted to hurt those who did not belong to the kingdom, and he wanted to take away the freedom of everything the sky had to offer. The division that belonged to the sky became afraid. Afraid for themselves and their families. The king started to imprison innocent people and restrict the right to manipulate and read the stars, which had become an important and valuable art in the society. The division began to fight back, and the oldest son of the lord began to directly take action against the kingdom, joining a group of rebels who openly fought against the king."
I blinked in surprise when silence trailed after the last sentence. "That's it?"
"For now. Maybe I'll tell you some more some other time. But for now, you should probably get some sleep." He must have seen the expression of concern of my face because he quickly followed with, "don't worry! I'll be right here. I protect you from anything stupid enough to try and hurt you." The last sentence came out as playful teasing, and he slid his hand onto his chest in mock arrogance.
"You couldn't protect me from a fly," I teased.
"I wouldn't say that to the person who's going to stay up all night to make sure you don't have another nightmare."
"You don't have to stay up all night, you know."
"Yeah. But I don't need to sleep so I'm gonna, and there's nothing you can do about it."
I smiled and reached out to grab his hand. I didn't think much of it at the time, but I suddenly felt a surge of safety run through my body.
My eyes closed a few seconds later and I was greeted by the pleasure of sleep.
I dreamt of the kingdom of the sky and, strangely enough, Thomas with wings fighting against an unseen adversary.
~•~
A single beam of light danced across the ground from the window when I opened my eyes. Thomas was sitting at the edge of the bed, a book in his hands. I waited for a moment, watching the light hit his face.
"Good morning," he said without looking up at me. "Sleep well?"
"Yeah, much better. Thank you, Thomas. I don't know what you did, but you did something."
Thomas looked up at me and smiled. "Glad I could help."
I sat up. "Did you already finish Sorcerer's Stone?"
"Hmm? Oh, yeah. I'm on the second one. I like the bird."
I frowned. "The bird? You mean the phoenix?"
"Yeah! I like Fawkes. Fawkes is pretty chill."
"A bird made of fire is pretty chill," I teased, flinging off the blankets and moving closer to him.
"You know what I mean."
"You're already in the middle? So you finished Sorcerer and somehow got to the middle of Chamber?"
"Yeah. I read fast."
"You stayed up the whole night."
Thomas nodded, and a sudden devilish grin appeared. "I had to protect you, didn't I?" he asked, poking me in the side.
"Go fuck a horse."
"Y'know, Hercules would gladly take you up on that offer," he said absentmindedly.
I stopped and stared at him. "What kind of Greek myths are you reading?"
Thomas opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. Instead, he ducked his head and returned to the book. "Never mind. I'm hungry. We should go get breakfast."
"I know a coffee shop not too far from here."
"Sounds great." He paused. "I hate coffee."