dreams we weave;

[cashewlater]

[ cyno has done everything in his power to keep away from tighnari - to keep him safe, to keep him secure, to keep the terrible contents of his dreams from becoming reality.

but gods, they have been pulled together from the first moment they met, the attraction between them powerful, magnetic, irresistible. for all he had tried to keep himself away, in the end, there had been no preventing it. there is something between them that is simply.. undeniable, irreconcilable any other way. cyno loves him, he needs him, deep down in his soul, in a way he has never needed anyone before, and the accident that tighnari got himself into had only cemented it - keeping away from him would not keep him out of danger.

cyno had been inconsolable, that day. irrational. the panic at tighnari's injury had sent him reeling, images and emotions linked to his nightmares all surging forward, and he had sagged against tighnari's hospital bed, clutching at his perfect soft hands, trying to breathe through the anxiety clawing at his insides.

since then, they have been all but inseparable. nearly every night is spent at tighnari's apartment, or cyno's, curled up together in love or passion, in comfort and care. what cyno feels for him is intense, intense enough to shake him to the core, but cyno is an intense man to begin with - what he feels, he feels deeply and fully and with his entire heart. yet despite their closeness, the night terrors have not abated. he still sees it in his dreams - tighnari's lifeless eyes, staring and empty, his body limp and cold, blood trickling from his mouth. in each and every dream cyno grips to him, holding tightly, weeping openly, arrestingly, as if his very heart were being torn from his breast, bleeding and aching. the grief overwhelms, irrational and misplaced, but wholly his somehow. he does not know why he dreams of tighnari, why he had dreamed of him before they met, why he dreams of him still. he does not know why he fears losing him so desperately, so painfully. but it is cyno's reality.

the dream comes again.

it's late, dark and quiet, and cyno and tighnari lie together, tangled in sheets and in each other, when cyno's body begins to shift, and twitch, his breath coming more and more quickly, soft, plaintive noises riding on each and every exhale. he tenses, his hands on tighnari grasping, squeezing, his tattooed arms tight and taut as he murmurs in his sleep. ]

'Nari..

Comments

[nemophilous]

( he remembers it as if it just happened: the sound of something clear as a bell that was nowhere to be found, the feeling of warm sun that was impossible on a rainy day, the scent of a species of flower he's never encountered. these intersecting with a young man at the crosshair of it all: hair unexpectedly white, and eyes a red so familiar they made tighnari's chest ache. reaching out was both involuntary and unavoidable, only to stop himself midway, his hand in an awkward curl half extended towards him. tighnari had the alarming feeling of tears pressing to betray him and quickly excused himself, but even that had felt wrong. don't leave, not again.

again?

they ran into each other many times after that and with each additional encounter, tighnari began to feel he wasn't the only one fighting something. even later, when he finally decided to try to pursue what was going on, whatever it was, he found that cyno — a name he swore he'd heard before and knew he hadn't all at once — still avoided him. perhaps whatever he felt was even more troubling, and after recognizing that, tighnari had done his best to keep his own distance too, their repeated run-ins kept short and civil but sterile.

but everywhere tighnari went, a flash of white, a flicker of red, a smell like something honeyed and warm, spiced, would catch his attention. several times he chased a stranger through the crowd to find it wasn't cyno. several times he followed a scent or a feeling. certain he had been there, but too little too late. he found it oddest that he could not hear cyno, sensitive as his ears are, but it was like this person had learned how to disguise himself from him.

the accident felt unreal: a kid walking her dog, the dog getting loose. the nature of this bustling loud city is traffic, both people and transport. tighnari had acted without thinking, leaping forward and bounding back with the dog in his arms. in a way, he was very lucky. if the truck had hit him head on, he would have died for certain. and in hindsight he feels stupid for not getting more out of the way, too distracted in passing the dog to the little girl to notice the truck's cargo sticking off the edge of the back. the doctor says he was lucky anyway — thrown no small distance, head injury, but coherent and no apparent lasting damage. his body was a bruised, swollen mess for the better part of a month and change, and there's a curious bracket of scars along his back where the skin was torn open.

when he woke up to cyno at his bedside, tighnari had called his name like he'd done so a thousand times: "cyno...it's alright."

—

he hears cyno before he feels his hold tighten, ears flicking forward, alert and worried. his sight in the dark is uncannily good but sleep crusts them so he uses one hand, wriggled free, to roughly wipe his eyes clean before then using the same hand to slot against cyno's jaw, thumbing the skin there. he doesn't even use words at first, just leans more into him, their legs already tangled and so much warmth it's a little uncomfortable for tighnari but that's not important right now. cyno doesn't have to say what's happened for him to know by now, slipping his other hand free to push through the soft thickness of cyno's hair. only a few hours earlier tighnari had gently worked it dry and combed it through with the expert patience of someone who'd done it quite a bit before — kids in his hometown, a much greener place than this, who liked flowers woven in their hair and braids cutely folded up like the shapes of butterflies.

leaning his face closer, it lets their noses brush and he knows better than to force someone out of the dregs of a nightmare. combined with cyno's anxiety that would be the worst thing he could do, so he doesn't kiss him or anything too demanding. he keeps his jaw carefully held: i am here. he runs his fingers through his hair over and over: i am still here. he brushes their noses together then rests his head lower to breathe steady and alive near where cyno's pulse beats too fast, softly exhales: i am not leaving you.

he has yet to learn the detailed content of cyno's dream. only that it has something to do with tighnari himself, but prying has so far never seemed to him to serve a purpose, and so he hasn't.

rather than words, tighnari has taken on nights like this, to softly humming a wordless song. he doesn't remember where it's from, and sometimes it makes him incredibly sad, debilitatingly sad, and he almost does not feel like himself. other times it is a comfort, an inward beacon of love. he hopes at times such as this one, it can be the latter for this person he cares for, who he would protect from everything waking and asleep if he could. )

[cashewlater]

[ the scent of blood is something that cyno is intimately familiar with, and it infuses the fabric of his dreams.

again and again it is there, the blood, the shout, the uncomfortable, terrifying silence that came after. the grief, great and terrible and all-encompassing swallows him up in its black maw, and cyno feels heavy, so heavy, so tired that he's sure he will never move again, that he never wants to move again. the light and color are gone from the world, all happiness and warmth drained away, leaving only a cold and lonely heart.

why bother to wake up? what waits for him besides an empty, pitiless void?

but that song.. that song reaches his ears, distant at first, then louder, until it is whispered directly into his ear. there is love in the melody, and a sweet, blisteringly painful warmth that cyno was somehow sure that he would never find again, for his love is gone, taken from him, and in its place there is only grief and duty. but this voice, this song urges him to stand again, to lift his aching body from the ground, to fight the quicksand that sucks at him mercilessly, hungry, ravenous. he must move forward. he has promises to fulfill. duties. responsibilities. he reaches for that pinprick of light..

with a groan, cyno shifts, and his eyes snap open, wild and frenzied, pupils blown wide and black, his breathing rapid, his heartbeat spiked. there are tears on his face, rolling from his eyes down into his hair, and in his heart a grief and loss so powerful he can barely endure it. a misplaced grief that feels like his own and yet not, something that doesn't belong to him, yet sticks to his soul like a brand.

his wild eyes flicker over tighnari's face, and for a moment he sees.. something else, a flash of blue sky, of broad ajilenakh palms. he feels warm sand beneath his back, and sees a curving smile. he smells flowers, a scent unlike anything he has ever experienced, mixed with fresh water and hot oasis air. ]

It's you..

[ he murmurs, reaching, and then, in a flash, it is gone. the oasis. the scent. the person smiling above him. tighnari's face manifests through the darkness, and cyno blinks his tear-filled eyes, confused, uncertain, deeply, horribly wounded. that feeling sticks like tar to his heart, this loss he does not understand, yet that consumes him nonetheless. ]

.. 'Nari?

[nemophilous]

( the effort it takes cyno to come out of his nightmare worries tighnari every time. they have tried natural assistances: different teas, essential oils, and more. nothing seems to help, though tighnari has the sense that it is at least best if cyno isn't alone. sometimes he wonders if it would be better if someone else were here, irregardless of their personal relationship, if tighnari himself is almost too close to him to be effective in what almost seems to beg a medical expertise. but then cyno opens his eyes and a fierce tangible sense of protectiveness tightens tighnari's chest, his throat, the burn behind his eyes that threatens his own tears. because it hurts to see the person he loves like this and know, more or less, he's of no use to soothe it.

still, that's no excuse to not do his best.

with the care he would handle the rarest most delicate of flora, the smallest animal, the most fragile glass, tighnari moves his other hand so both frame cyno's face. look nowhere but me, he seems to say without saying, again bumping their foreheads briefly, then leaning back just enough that they can maintain eye contact. )

It's me.

( he doesn't say his name, which might make it more confusing despite his looks further confirming it. not knowing the contents of cyno's dreams, tighnari can only make guesses, and the initial look cyno gave him felt like it was both not at all for him and only for him. it's something he can't explain either, how it hurts and how he knows it to also be correct. like he was seeing someone else, yet to ask him about it so soon after waking feels cruel. the placement of his hands lets tighnari wipe gently at the tears under cyno's eyes, and because he can tell he is more awake now, he dares to kiss above his brow once, twice, thrice. then his hands slip behind cyno's head, threaded in his hair, holding cyno's face closer to his throat so he can nose his temple and near the crown of his head. )

I want to help.

( he whispers it into cyno's hair, noses there too, breathes him in, and unconsciously makes soft reassuring sounds that aren't words at all. )

[cashewlater]

[ cyno's head is spinning, his thoughts tangled and disoriented. he has not told tighnari, but these dreams.. they feel like someone else's, they feel distant, unattached, like walking through an out of body experience, like looking through someone else's eyes. and yet the pain is so real, so genuine, so very much his own, somehow, even though it is not.

it's confusing, but it's always been confusing. cyno has had these dreams all his life. since meeting tighnari, they have only intensified.

but that won't keep him from his love. he would suffer these nightmares each and every night if it meant keeping tighnari close, despite the fact that cyno resisted his nearness for so long. now that he has him, cyno can never let him go, can never release his grasp. he loves tighnari so much it aches, that it makes his chest tight with emotion and need and abject, irresistible devotion.

and he loves him now, so very much, when tighnari pulls him near, cradling him close, whispering into his hair. cyno's skin is dewy with sweat, his breath still coming rapidly as he leans his weight into his lover, closing his eyes and inhaling his scent, like sweet lotuses and warm earth. tighnari always smells so good.. so painfully familiar. ]

You are helping.

[ he insists, his voice soft and low against tighnari's throat as cyno burrows against him, both arms slipping around his waist, pulling him close. his heart pounds against his ribs, frantic and wild, and cyno can do little more than breathe through it, his eyes still stinging with tears, his chest still clutched with searing heartache that will not relent. the only balm that can soothe his soul is tighnari's nearness, his warmth and his scent, the solidity of his body. cyno hums, his hands trembling, grasping at tighnari's shirt as he works to settle his breathing. ]

I love you.

[nemophilous]

( tighnari threads his fingers in his hair, gently running them through it over and over, methodical and unhurried in his pace which takes some time given the length of it all. the other slips from his cheek to curl at his nape, as if to say: stay. because he knows he tries to shoulder a great deal on his own, and he knows he does not want tighnari to worry and might at any moment, pull back just to reassure him. )

Do you want to talk?

( about anything. he very specifically does not ask if he wants to tell him the specifics of the dreams. that feels like something that can be offered at his discretion when not in the heartmouth of its fear, when only barely over that threshold of wakefulness and sleep. and so, without knowing anything except that the one he loves is in the midst of fear so visceral it brings physical pain, tighnari does his best to simply be present.

this isn't like the random accidents that kept happening to tighnari before he and cyno, rather, khalid, were together. or the bigger ones like the car accident. no hospital can help what plagues him, and tighnari wishes he could be sure that talking about it would help, but because he isn't, he doesn't feel comfortable pressuring him into doing so. instead, he settles for holding him and occasionally murmuring his real name like a soft mantra of return, waiting for his answer and not minding if he does not give one.

sometimes tighnari thinks of the indescribable draw he had to him from first meeting, how it felt like what some movies and dramas want people to believe while watching them; an escape from reality. except this is reality, and the longer they are together, the more impossible it is for tighnari to imagine being separated from him. in the depths of his subconscious, there is a part of him that recognizes it is inevitable, that their fate is tied into a strange loop of parting and meeting unlike that of other people. but this tighnari, in his present consciousness, has no access to what the first version of himself knew.

so he treads carefully, not out of memory but out of love despite the lack of it. )

[cashewlater]

[ the pull of tighnari's fingers through his thick hair is soothing in a way that little else can ever be, and slowly, slowly, slowly cyno feels his rapid pulse beginning to slow, his heart dropping from his throat back into his chest again. his quick breathing eases, and soon he is boneless in tighnari's arms, cold sweat sticking his hair to his forehead and nape. though the panic is passing, the imagery still remains, hanting and terrible, the image of tighnari's face, bloodied and slack, his beautiful eyes dark and empty -

it makes cyno's stomach churn, nausea rising. he inhales deeply. ]

I.. I just..

[ would talking even help? cyno knows full well that tighnari would never force anything out of him, that he is simply opening a door, not pushing cyno through it, and in truth, he trusts tighnari enough to tell him the truth of them. well, the partial truth. khalid, tighnari calls him, in a voice so soft it is heartbreaking, and he finds he loves the sound of it, of his true name, intimate and powerful between them. ]

I wish it would stop. I want it to end. But it never will.

[ because these dreams are borne of a hard and terrible truth, one that khalid will never escape from. tighnari will be ripped from his arms again and again, lifetime after lifetime, and sometimes they will live full lives together, but more often, it will be too early, too young. the last time, cyno did not even have a full year by his side, did not even have the chance to kiss him.

hot tears prick his eyes, khalid's throat constricting, and he presses his face into tighnari's neck, as if he could hide himself away from the pain and loss, the terrible grief that plagues him. his grasp tightens, holding to his lover like a lifeline, as if he holds long enough, he can keep tighnari by his side always. ]