: : Sleepwalkin' : : {Otto Oneshot}

[Deleted]

Last night, I had a dream last night.

Tulips and Roses without the blood of fingers, a candy blue sky without the ash clouds, a bed fit for a queen and a shambled body laying in the middle of it all. The sun smiled down on her, and the clouds formed pictures of her innocence and beauty with each step I took. Her blonde hair lay in shambles, and her body was rigid, worn out, skin sagging on the bones that carry it.

Each step I took the world became brighter, and the wind that had accompanied the dreamy refuge died down, silence took over, the only sound hearable being the sound of her breathing and the sound of mine. I was walking on air and yet my lungs felt like they weren't getting any, I was walking forward and yet my legs felt glues to the ground. I was staring ahead and yet watching from above, looking straight yet looking down. And yet, there had been an unmistakeable peacefulness, only disrupted by the pile of illness laying in the center of it.

Last night, I had a dream last night.

I picked up the weightless pile of skin and bones that was Lucia Caverly, holding her against my body and resting her head on my shoulder. I dreamt I walked forward, going towards an unknown goal, an unknown place and yet my legs moved anyways. Her body stirred, and her arms wrapped around my neck, digits locking together and resting on skin.

With each step the world changed, and the blue hued sky morphed into a star filled darkness. The flowers withered and died, and their petals swirled around us in a tornado of beauty and delicateness. The grass gave way to sand, and with each step that I took I found resistance in the action.

But with each step she became heavier, and with each step the labor that was required of her to breathe became less, and with each step her face became fuller, color returning to her cheeks.

With each step came more resistance, but with each step she got better.

And eventually, with all the grace that i'd once seen in my own sister she slipped from my grasp and landed on the ground, without pain or shakiness, with confidence and beauty and with a smile on her face. Our eyes met, a connection of ocean blue irises and for the first time in such a long time I could smile genuinely, not one of fake support and encouragement but of real, true happiness. She locked fingers with fingers, her tiny digits interlaced with mine and with a golden smile she lead me through sand piles and dunes, over hills and across valleys.

Last night, I had a dream last night.

We crossed realities and dimensions, forged paths through forests and plains and mountains and whatever obstacles nature managed to toss in our way. The two of us, together, linked through fingers and smiles and kisses on the cheek, through love.

Apparently, in my efforts to take care of my disease-ridden sister I had forgotten what love was. True love, the one that spawns butterflies in your stomach and builds up in your gut and forces smiles onto your face and eyes to falter and fingers to twitch ever so slightly. That is what I felt, when her fingers interlocked with mine and when the sound of her footsteps reached my ears and when the wind picked and played with her hair. That is what I felt when she looked at me, face full and soft smile on her face, and when she laughed when I stumbled and every time she'd squeeze my fingers just a little bit tighter just to make sure I was still behind her, still with her. And I was, of course. Because in whatever state I had been in where Lucia was finally well again I had made an unspoken promise to her and myself that i'd never let go of her hand no matter how long she clung to it, no matter how many steps we took and no matter how hard the course. I'd never let go, i'd be there until the end, until fate forced us apart.

There is a weird thing that happens inside dreams, because one moment you could be standing in water up to your ankles, curling your toes into the sand beneath you and tasting the salt in the air. And then, with one breath, one blink or one single movement you fall into a whole other reality. But it all seems normal to you, as if jumping from reality to reality, dimension to dimension is something that has been engraved into your soul, your spirit and your mind since the day you were born. And somewhere deep down, you know none of it is right, there is a nagging in your gut that tells you that something is off and yet, you still force yourself to believe it.

I guess that's what happened somewhere inside of that dream, because somewhere along that never ending path we took through forests and rivers, deserts and jungles I forced myself to believe that everything in this dream had become reality, that the sickness that toyed with her life had died itself and that we were actually visiting all these magical and mystical places. My love for her became a veil, and as it draped itself over my eyes it relinquished any sense of reality I had left. And I fed into it, because everything I needed had presented itself, everything I needed was her. Not our father, not money or a bed and blankets, but her, Lucia Marie Caverly.

The world twisted and molded around us, and with each blink I took or breath I stole I watched reality change around me. And, at one point or another we came upon a cliff, pebbles tumbling off the edge as we stood. The ocean pounded against the rock below with fists of foam and salt, and instinctively my grip tightened, eyes staring down the sea below.

Words had become useless, for we communicated with no more than encouraging smiles and tightened grips. And as we stood on the edge of reality she simply looked at me, as if expecting me to do something, as if expecting me to jump. My breath caught in my throat, and all I could manage was a mere falter of the eyes as I looked down at the roaring waves below.

Just don't let go.

Her voice became a paradox, because although I was standing in the middle of a twister of sound (the ocean crashing, the wind blowing, the pebbles falling to their doom), the only thing I could hear were the words she spoke. Perhaps it was because it'd been so long since i'd heard her voice without coughs and illness accompanying it. Or, perhaps it was just because my ears had been opened through out whatever journey we'd just taken.

And so we tighten our grips.

And we leap off the edge of reality.

Together.

But somewhere along the way, before body met water the wind formed a knife, and with a single swipe it cut through the fingers that we'd tried so hard to mold together, because all the love and happiness that had built up inside of my gut was replaced with a fear unlike anything i'd felt when i'd listened to her cough and groan, cry and give up only to be picked up by me again.

In the few fleeting moments before I was drowning drowning drowning in the murky waters, engulfed and swallowed like Lucia's life was I reached for nothing, grasping air as if it was going to save me from whatever I was falling into.

But I found nothing.

And I woke up engulfed in sweat, not water.

Chills, grasping the end of the torn up bedsheets and laying in my own sweat, white undershirt turned to a light grey and blonde hair glued to my skin with sweat. My hearing had numbed itself, and as it slowly came into focus I was met with nothing but silence, ear shattering silence.

And then a cough, and another, and another.

It had become a routine, waking up like that. But that night, that night it was as if it had renewed itself again, the sands of time had reversed and we'd been moved back to before all of this started, and with each step across the creaky hallway the dread of seeing her in that state, of having to glue a smile to my face (a fake on at that), of having to run a hand through her hair and tell her it would be alright, all of it came to a boil, and I found my fingers rising to my eyes to wipe tears away from the irises, putting on a fake face full of courage in order to help her through whatever was causing her so much pain.

I took a seat next to her and ran my hand through her hair.

"It hurts really bad Otto."

"I know it does, Luch."

Last night, I had a dream last night.

Today, today I wished it'd been real.

ooc: credit to Rave for this glorious table :3
habe to straing.