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OPEN POST | OTA
CALL | TEXT | EMAIL | DREAM | AWAKE
( dream = action in a dream. awake = regular action. default present tense brackets but mixing styles is fine w/ me. )
CALL | TEXT | EMAIL | DREAM | AWAKE
( dream = action in a dream. awake = regular action. default present tense brackets but mixing styles is fine w/ me. )
no subject
His head cants to the side just a little, peering down at the obsidian.]
I wonder how far that was...
[He's not questioning Ciro's ability so much as curious as to what part of his future is literally a bunch of ambiguity and perhaps more so than others might presume theirs to be based on the word 'future' alone. Over head the sky is vast and it looks like the same sky as the world Dream has long forgotten but comes from regardless. But the similarities end fairly fast; looks are about it; functions and form up close? Not comparable. Even remembering wouldn't be of any use though, unless it could return Dream to that place before he fades out of existence; and the truth is as far as anyone in this world knows - both from the School he came from and other under-the-radar establishments as such, there's no technology to facilitate such a journey.
People ascribe certain sentimental meanings to the word 'home' in any given place. This, Dream understands and talks about often on his radio block. But in all his dialogues with strangers he's never really thought of it like this: home isn't just a lifelong desire for some. For some, it's a necessity. People say 'food, shelter' not 'food, home' but for Dream that would be more accurate. On this earth hearts stop alone like islands. Likewise, they live independently.
Where Dream comes from, hearts connect to something bigger. There isn't a substitute for it. And the incongruity of trying to exist where you haven't been written down is, the way most of those stories go: folly.
If Ciro tries again, maybe the cloudiness will be almost the look of light through the roof of the ocean when you stare up from beneath; quite pretty though it doesn't seem to hold anything for very long. Or perhaps he'll see Dream himself, asleep in the afternoon sun that shines right through him, the sofa and its gentle blue tone a strange cast behind his wheat colored sweater and faded jeans, the dust motes floating around him like tiny stars.
Perhaps none of this, perhaps darkness, quiet, calm, a dream, if you will, that doesn't require waking but feels even in looks...a bit lonely. ]
no subject
A day, a month...this last one, a year.
[Ciro does the equivalent of rolling up his sleeves and preparing himself with stretches as he casts out his senses to check for any kind of interference before a faint glow radiates from his skin, and more concentrated light from his eyes before he shuts them to focus. Rather than taking a glance into an arbitrary point, he speeds through what is the most likely future for Dream. It's probably dizzying for his friend to observe days pass as quickly as seconds, and there's the ethical matter of whether or not it's right to show this to anyone. It's nothing out of the ordinary, though. Day in, day out, same jobs, same home, more of the same. It rushes by faster when Ciro realizes just how much of a routine Dream has with his life, and that's when he sees it.
First a blip, hardly noticeable. The image cuts out for the briefest moment like subliminal messaging if the message was nothingness. It happens again for a while longer, and Ciro takes a step back to try visualizing a timeline of Dream's life and sees that it stutters in and out like this before finally fading from existence. It's not death, but something different. He's even more confused as he was before, and he wants to pull his hands away to warm himself from the chill that passes through him at not understanding.
He looks over at his friend, only keeping his hold because he thinks Dream deserves some sort of answer. Slowed down, the blank moments of his existence are those where light just passes right through him, he speaks and no one hears, he exists but no one remembers him. Is that really existence? Ciro gets goosebumps because he knows the answer.
He takes a breath and draws one hand away, the other turning over Dream's arm to look at the mark on his wrist. His intuition is screaming at him with everything it's got not to go forward, but to look backward. In his past. Ciro shakes his head at himself, letting go fully to fold his arms over his chest instead. At some point the candles had burnt out despite no considerable amount of time actually passing.]
I don't...understand..
no subject
Why does he feel that?
Is it possible to not feel it?
Shouldn't he be worried?
This takes inevitability to another degree, even for the most whimsical of people, and even with his ability, Dream hasn't necessarily considered himself whimsical so much as open-minded. As Ciro pulls his hand away, Dream glances down at the mark on his wrist thoughtfully and doesn't look up again even when he speaks.]
It's a bit like a movie.
[Perhaps it's stupid to say it but he finds words difficult right now. Dream's voice is always gentle, the timbre always warm, and the undertone of Lullaby almost inextricable from it when he's very much trying to be comforting. It's not enough without actual song to put someone to sleep, but with some it will act like a palpable sense of soothing. Sometimes it doesn't work, mostly with others who have their own ability or magic, the rare times Dream has come across them, but he cannot quite help his inclination to reassure even if he knows so little about what they've seen, the very notion of him doing so is only as good as laughable. What Dream thinks of what he's seen is many-fold, but he can't find it in him to think about it too hard, to trade out his comfortable anonymity in this world's index for the confession of perhaps not belonging.
To belong, perhaps, is Dream's fondest wish.
Watching himself do quite the opposite, however long from now is...
Well it's no one's fault.
This might be the first time, however, Ciro will see the quiet of Dream take on something less like a half-sun and more like a waning moon.]
no subject
Most notably the desire to live a long full life.]
Don't do that. Don't smile.
[If the universe is owed anger and outrage over Dream slowly fading from existence (as he would classify it), and Dream isn't responding accordingly, Ciro is quick to do so on his behalf. Although the anger lasts all of a few seconds before he's just sad and still very much confused.]
It's not a movie, it's your life. [A deeb breath.]
Is that something you can do? Allow things to pass through you? Invisibility? [It's the only thing he can think of that might make things better. Maybe this future wasn't one of his friend fading from life, but instead choosing to use whatever abilities he has to live under the radar for some reason? Hell, it's something he would do in a pinch, too. He's scraping for reasons not to believe that there's really just about a year left with Dream before he's gone from his life and forgotten--no.
Ciro won't forget. He refuses.]
We have to try to stop it.
no subject
I can't.
[Invisible? Phasing? He's not ever even done that in dreams. It feels a little like he is in one now though, head tilted at the obsidian and then returned in focus to Ciro. He almost reaches his hands out to him again before realizing that might be overstepping and keeps his own to himself in the end, letting them rest instead peaceably at his sides.
Surprised? He guesses he is. Upset? He guesses he is. And none of this guesswork is born of apathy but Dream drifts in the truest sense of the word. Still, he dislikes that he may have burdened Ciro, both with his future and his own lack of handling of its implications. It's not that he doesn't care or even that he thinks nothing can be done at all. Dream wonders if he would be more scared of the future if he wasn't so scared of his past, not knowing the two are tangled impossibly close.]
I don't know what we saw. I'm not sure...I don't want to trouble you.
[If it's useless, he would hate to waste his time. But he thinks it would be nice, if he could keep living a little longer. A year, to some, is a good chunk of time; Dream isn't special, he should be grateful is immediately what he tells himself. He's had this long.
But maybe the human part of Dream is there after all: hungry, if quiet.
What is more human, anyway, than wanting more time?
Head bowed, he removes his glasses and cleans them with the edge of his untucked shirt, not hurrying to put them back on, rather letting them dangle from one crook of his fingers while the other hand presses faintly to his temple. It hurts a little. Strange.]
no subject
Ciro isn't one to hide his emotions, or hide from them. He's concerned and afraid for Dream, not wanting to lose him when they've only barely grazed the surface of their friendship. Or, he's bitter at fate for allowing such a wonderful person into his life only to have him flicker out of existence like a star in the sky trillions of miles away that isn't really there anymore, and no one got the memo because light can only travel so fast.]
You don't trouble me. That's the problem. [He frowns, unsure of how to explain his feelings without either sounding crazy or seeming like he's upset with Dream.]
I'm not ready to lose you yet. [And he never will be.] I'll figure something out for you, but in the meanwhile, remember the future isn't set in stone. It can be changed. [Ciro slides his fingers into Dream's hair, holding it the strands out of his face for a second to look at him while he isn't wearing his glasses. He's cute with them on, but without them Ciro is almost disarmed by how pleasant he is to look at. All the more reason to defy fate and force Dream's future into submission with his magic--if it comes to that.]
Are you okay?
no subject
It hurts, a bit. But I'm sure it'll go on its own.
[There would be no point in lying. Dream would rather not with someone like Ciro, besides, who deserves his honesty given how much he's trusted Dream. He considers telling him something about himself, but realizes he has no idea where to start and that even if he did, what he 'knows' is less about his own self and more the education he was put through. His eyes lower again. ]
You know, Ciro...I appreciate that you want to help me. But...you don't have to.
[What he really means to say is closer to a fear of Ciro taking on this as a kind of responsibility, the worry that if Dream does follow the path of that future they glimpsed, Ciro will hold himself some if not all accountable for not finding a way. Dream would hate that very much; but he's also not the sort of person inclined to tell anyone what to do, more to his nature to let people find their various ways.
Because Ciro is touching him, perhaps he'll feel the threadbare tremble that has made itself a moment inside of Dream. It is not something Dream himself has noticed yet. He's never had a reading done and doesn't know if this is a common side effect: the barely-there pain that's made a quick quiet home behind his temples and just makes Dream confused more than anything else. He's not prone to illness; but this isn't an illness. It's just the reality of himself.
That which does not belong cannot stay.
If he closes his eyes, most of what he really feels is Ciro's fingers and the nearness of him and the almost-not-there nighttime breeze. The pain is forced into a backseat, and it dulls even though it doesn't entirely go away. ]
no subject
And I appreciate that appreciation, but I want to.
[Of course Dream wouldn't want him to be disappointed if things don't work out in their favor, but it's his choice to make, and nothing Dream says will change his mind. Ciro can be stubborn when it comes to protecting those he cares about, and clearly he's come to care a great deal for him.
He rubs soft circles into the sides of Dream's forehead, thinking about where to go from here. His intuition tells him that he's going to need to learn more about Dream before he can start demanding he change his life in ways that he thinks could help. Maybe he'll ask his flatmate for advice. Rune is well-studied, and perhaps he'll have read something about a situation similar to this one?
Ciro loses track of their conversation when he gets lost in his thoughts, but what's important now, for the time being until this gets sorted, is that he fully appreciates the time they have together even more.]
That place, the recording studio? Do you sing? Or do some sort of podcast? I didn't know that..
no subject
What's that saying: when it rains, it pours.
As someone who has spent the bulk of his time focusing on present rather than past or future, Dream has perhaps handicapped himself inadvertently. Or perhaps it's part of his biology not quite of this world, tethered somewhere else understanding that to know 'more' is to become less. In a way, Dream is somewhat protected by his memory loss and the School's re-education. The bad nights that begin quickly and end slowly with certain airless fears are, for better or worse, just a part of him now and Dream can't give himself passage the way he does others. Dreamwalks while in his own nightmares are self-forbidden now that he better knows what he's doing and toes that thin line of overstepping.
What the future holds, if it is in fact, to disappear, to be forgotten, is...scary. If he lets it be. Or rather, if he thinks too much about it. He's not one who's familiar outside of his own bad dreams with that concept, for which he knows he's lucky. His predisposition towards calm and unobtrusiveness being what it is, he still feels a great deal if not anger or fright. But now he has a taste under his tongue, between the delicate meet of his teeth that only ever bare in a partial smile, in the sharp weight somewhere inside his throat lodged and impossible to digest. Ah.
He's grateful for Ciro, for his intentions and his words, for the compassionate strength in his fingertips and the conversation he can actually take part in. And Dream wonders, not for the first time, if Ciro is his first real friend, a person he can be close to; a thing he's circled politely around for years with others who might have been possible until they realized Dream was barely there. When he opens his eyes, they're relaxed, almost sleepy, and the smile isn't the same as the one before, no longer reassuring. Dream himself doesn't know it, but the expression is perhaps a little closer to...sad.]
A small radio block. It was originally just supposed to be a poetry thing but it's sort of become that and....I guess you might say a call-in session?
[It's actually hard to explain now that he's trying, the faint purse of his mouth thoughtful. Not quite advice, though he offers it if asked, and not quite just venting; the people awake at such hours have - it seems - unconsciously married themselves to their quieter counterparts even in anger or desolation, or the more everyday hope and fear hybrid. Sometimes they simply ask Dream to talk about a specific subject, and it's no little known fact for anyone tho keys into his show, that most of the people listening do so for that very reason: even when he's not using his ability, Dream has this unconscious tendency to soothe. Voice, words, the right places of silence. And he likes it, because he wants to be connected to people but not endanger them or cause too much confusion. For a while now, the radio show has been his own personal grace.
That he might have an actual in-person flesh and blood friend to 'connect' with should have occurred to him sooner than now on this rooftop, Ciro intent on keeping him around in a way Dream isn't sure he deserves. He feels guilty that he hadn't considered it until now, but it's possible years of telling himself not to have created a bad habit.
What he says next probably feels a little displaced, but he says it calm and warm and honest; says what he means as his smile crinkles until his eyes shut briefly before softening again,]
Thank you.
[And then, realizing that's sort of random, he adds, equally quiet,]
I really don't...want to cause you trouble. But I also want to continue being here.
[So he'll accept the help he's given until a point comes when he either can't or deems it too risky -- should such a time come at all; he's not sure that it will, and is thankful all over again his ability isn't something more violent or tool-worthy.]
no subject
Ciro isn't sure when it happened, exactly. Friendship. Hm. He doesn't really think too much about these things. His general policy is to assume friendship on first (or sometimes second) interaction unless otherwise specified. Dream was kind to him at every opportunity, sometimes too kind. It's hard to consider him anything but a friend.
So here he is, concerned for his well-being and pretending to be okay just to avoid upsetting him. Ciro is sure that's what friendship is about. Caring more about what they feel than you do, right? He's a Cancer, he's not really great at not sacrificing his own sanity to make the people he cares about happy.
That said, he's interested in this other job that Dream has that he's only just finding out about. He lowers his hands and folds them over his chest to keep them to himself.]
Call in? What do people call in about? Anything at all, or is there a theme? [His questioning is mild and soft to make up for being a bit invasive to his space just a bit ago.]
Dream..don't.
[Ciro shakes his head, frowning again. This world is home to more than just ordinary humans. He's seen some things, some people..creatures, too. There's space enough for everyone even if some have to live in hiding. More than enough space for a person like Dream who does so well in not getting in anyone's way. Even if Ciro can't figure out how he does what he does, or what kind of being he is, it doesn't change that he cares for him and wants to keep him close--and safe.]
You're never any trouble, and I want you here. Even if you don't sing me to sleep ever again, I'd still want you to stay.
[His arms reach out before he can stop himself and he's resting his hands on top of Dream's shoulders. So much for respecting personal space.]
no subject
Ciro's hands on his shoulders are a comfort Dream is a little afraid to accept.
But he wants to.]
I always talk about the weather, but other than that there's no theme. People tell me about their day. Sometimes they ask about mine. I'm honestly surprised at how many people do call.
[Another pause, another flicker of something in his expression that errs toward saying one thing then doesn't - a would-be trick of the light if it wasn't night.]
And I'll sing for you whenever you like, as long as I can.
[Dream hesitates and stays silent after that. Part of him thinks it would be nice to step closer, to be the one who rests his face to Ciro's shoulder if that would be permissible, to be held in a way that has nothing to do with needing to catch up on sleep. Then he feels selfish, foolish, guilty. And then gone. A breath, no longer.
He lets the brief yearning go and it's as light as the accidental release of a kite.
Real and out of his fingertips as fast.
It's okay.
To the last, whenever that might be, this is what he wants to tell people - in the small hours of the morning, in this regular hour of night, stranger or friend.
It's okay.
It really is.
(It has to be.)]
no subject
He may just be in his feelings again.
Ciro tries to separate himself from his emotions, placing a bit of a barrier between them while he listens closely to Dream when he speaks.]
Maybe I'll listen in or call some time. You have the voice for that sort of thing, so I understand why you have a good fanbase.
[It sounds like something that would be nice to hear while he unwinds at night. That's likely the consensus because Dream's voice, even when speaking, is objectively soothing. His singing is on another level, though. Like a blanket and pacifier to a baby, Dream could sing anyone to the edge of sleep.
Ciro's fists close tight to keep his hands to himself at Dream's words. As long as I can. How long will that be exactly?]
It's getting cold, we should head inside. [He gets up to put everything away, doing his quick version of what cleaning up looks like. It's mostly tossing things back where he picked them from just so he could come back around to Dream. Ciro gives up on restraint when he sees that Dream appears to be deep in thought about something, and puts his arms around him, resting his face right up against Dream's cheek.
It's not okay. Not yet.
Pretending it is just makes him feel worse, so the only thing he can do is find a way to fix it. He'll do so if it kills him.]
Stay the night. You don't have to sing if you're tired.
no subject
Close as they are, it's possible Ciro will feel the abrupt uptic of Dream's heart that's wholly at contrast with the stillness of his body, save for when he lets his eyes fall shut. The ache in his head makes him dizzy but the pressure behind his eyes amplifies it tenfold. What is it? The dampness that thieves its way out at the corners of his eyes is his answer and if he wasn't so stunned into the most benign of paralysis, he might wipe at them quickly. But a lot is happening in one night, not even, just a handful of moments - more than Dream has experienced firsthand in all his time 'free'.
He doesn't know if it is good or if it is bad; he doesn't know if he himself is good or bad though he has tried very very hard to be the former.
It's okay, he says inside and means it.
But Ciro holds him like it isn't, and that seems true too.
Dream should apologize, he should pull away or at least slip his arms about him in return, he should do anything but what he's doing and finds he can't.
At least when he demands it, his words come after all, curiously steady and normal in the face of everything else.]
If you want me to sing, I'm happy to.
[It doesn't matter if he's tired or not, not to Dream. He probably doesn't have to say it: I'm happy to be useful. Like his time is all borrowed, an unconscious nagging feeling he'd long chalked up to that vague awareness one has of one's own insecurities. But perhaps after seeing that 'future', one might argue believably he's been right all along. Dream doesn't want to be too selfish, and definitely does not want Ciro at risk for helping him; between the two of them, Dream would not hesitate to place the value of his friend's life first.
But for now he can only stand in the careful kindness of Ciro's arms and hope he's not being too much a burden already.]
no subject
This is selfish of him, he knows. Dream would never ask for this kind of thing, but Ciro wants it. The close contact is nice in that it reminds him that there's nothing to be sorrowful for now. Right now Dream is fine--he's right here. They still have some time, and spending it mourning prematurely will do no one any good. So, he'll be a bit selfish, just for a moment longer before he overstays his welcome in someone else's personal space.]
No, it's okay. You don't have to do that. Maybe I'll sing for you.
[It's a very bad joke, but Dream might not know. He laughs anyway. Ciro's singing voice isn't the least bit pleasant. He can probably hold a tune, but years of smoking on top of his almost-deep voice results in something raspy and gritty. Definitely not lullaby material by his own assessment.
Before he changes his mind, he releases Dream and nudges him toward the door so they can go inside, down the steps, and Ciro gestures to his bedroom before stepping in behind his guest. It's deliberate the way he avoids eye-contact now. Having to see Dream with tears in his eyes would finish him emotionally, and he knows they're there because he can feel them. Confirmation of it will end up in more close contact, and he's not looking to scare Dream away.]
You can borrow some clothes if you want to change out of that. I don't have much, but help yourself to anything you find.
[Ciro takes a few steps forward to lower himself to the edge of the bed, eyes cast down at his feet as he slides them out of his slippers, pretending to be fully focused on the task so he won't look directly at Dream just yet.]
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He doesn't mean to be selfish and hopes Ciro isn't to off-put by his own unusual show of emotion, not thinking for a second that the reason Ciro can't look directly at him is simply because he cares.
Dream has never gotten close enough to someone to tell the difference.
As Ciro removes his slippers, Dream watches, his weight shifting lightly as he doesn't approach the bed right away. When he does come closer, he pauses rather than sitting. He doesn't feel the need for borrowing of clothing but wonders if that would be the more polite thing to do - to accept - and when he tilts his head he does take one moment to wipe the back of his hand to both eyes. It comes away damp but is easily ignored as he sits beside Ciro, close enough their shoulders brush ever so slightly. ]
Part of me still feels I should go, but...
[ Trailing off, the empty space might speak for itself: but I don't want to, but I do not welcome that loneliness I've made false peace with. Not tonight. Dream leans forward, elbows on his knees, hands clasped lightly, head bowed. Inside of Dream there isn't just a slow, inevitable failsafe running its course; there is also just the heart and memory of a boy first let into the world less than a decade ago. Though wet eyelashes are dark, no more tears struggle out, and Dream chuffs the softest, barest-there of laughs, almost not one at all.]
Are ... are you sure that it's alright?
[ His head cants to the side just a touch, not enough to look directly, and he lets his gaze slide forward again, away. Alright if he stays, alright if he doesn't know what he is or what is happening...'alright'. ...'alright' to want to do so. And again it blooms almost foreign in Dream's chest to the point that he raises one hand to his heart. It's a little too fast. Ah. He bows his head again, soft smile not wholly gone so far. ]
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Is he just being dramatic? Or is it warranted? Should he show more emotion to make up for how much Dream isn't? Ciro doesn't really know what to do with regard to it, so he tries to keep moving through the process of being a good host, making sure his guest is comfortable.
Only when Dream says he feels like maybe he should go that Ciro finally looks up, then back down on his hands again, shaking his head.]
Don't go. [With Dream right beside him, he doesn't have to reach very far to rest a hand on his thigh.] It's no trouble at all, I want you to stay with me.
[Ciro shifts to the side, resting his weight on the opposite arm as he regards Dream quietly. If he were like other people he knows how he could get him to want to stay, but using those tactics on someone like this would just be wrong. Especially since he does have a soft spot for Dream and no incentive to seduce him and never call again. He does lean in to place a brief kiss on his lips though, pulling back straight away so he won't be tempted to linger.]
I'm sure.
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Like some kind of child, Dream's eyes remain wide open. Granted, it's only a second or two; it's harder ostensibly to close them that fast, but the way he stares might be taken wrong. Dream smiles wider but there's something almost more fragile about this look than the smaller one even if Dream himself couldn't explain why. His heart continues to beat too fast but he pays it little mind in favor of watching Ciro close closer closest; watching to see if it was a mistake though it doesn't feel to him as though Ciro is the type to make such things. Not like this.
It was deliberate for all that it was momentary.
Dream is being given room to accept it and move on with ease.
He doesn't know what to do with that kindness at first.]
Can I...
[To call it tentative would be an understatement, the way Dream is the one this time to lean forward and rest his face to Ciro's shoulder, to slip his faintly shivering arms around him and confirm that his friend is real and that he himself is still there. He's never let himself do this, and he hopes he won't regret it, won't cause Ciro any irreparable trouble or discontent. Ciro wants him to stay and if Dream had ever stuck around long enough, perhaps he wouldn't be the first to say so; but Dream has always drifted. Here, now, is the first and maybe only time he lets someone happen to him and not the other way around.
I'm sorry, he thinks and doesn't know why he feels this way.
His mouth is curious even as his mind is too tangled, and Dream doesn't know why Ciro kissed him but he thinks of all the first kisses to have, it was incredibly sweet and he couldn't have asked for more. With his face leant against Ciro's shoulder, angled more to press his cheek there, he says, quietly,]
Whatever happens...I won't forget you.
[He has no way to promise this actually, but he feels he needs to say it: proclaim one of his own desires for the first time...in ever. If anything, he'd rather Ciro forget him, as the future showed others doing; he'd rather be forgotten than forget. Dream wonders how long that part of his future is, before he fades away completely, and indeed then wonders if that's actually what will happen; and that's the trouble at the core of it isn't it? They can't know until it happens, he supposes.
Which Ciro says it won't...
Unconsciously, Dream's arms tighten briefly before softening completely, more gently lain against Ciro than holding tight, reverting always always always to that 'here but only for now' sort of presence. A wind from somewhere very far away incarnate.]
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Since his knowledge of Dream is limited, he's glad he doesn't let himself get caught up in the heat of the moment and take things too far. He doesn't know if Dream has family, or hell, if he's seeing anyone. It's not good to assume things, but from that reaction Ciro can only lean toward doubting Dream has anyone in his life currently that he kisses--or touches with any intimacy at all. Even their hug felt, not unwanted, but maybe cautiously optimistic on Dream's part. Ciro is usually able to feel how interested in him people are, so when there's little to none of that being picked up he finds he enjoys being the one to slowly warm someone up to the idea of him rather than the other way around.
There's far less emotions to wade through, and it makes him feel normal. Like he doesn't have a big advantage because of his empathic abilities.]
Can you wh--oh.
[Ciro finds that he's still smiling when Dream actually makes a move of his own. The arms around him and face against his shoulder is welcome, and Ciro shows it in how he leans in. Dream feels comfortable and his scent is soft and delicate--almost undetectable under the scent of where he works. The brief contact between Dream's mouth and the skin of his cheek is harder to miss though. Goosebumps spread over his skin as those next words register, his heartbeat quickening unexpectedly.]
There's no way I would let you.
[The arms around him squeeze tighter, but rather than resist, Ciro uses his weight to push Dream down against the mattress playfully, keeping an arm curled around him loosely.]
I don't want to think about that, or I'll really never sleep.
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His arm staying around Dream is comforting.]
Does it...help if I tell you I'm not overly worried?
[Not about himself, at any rate.
If someone told him this, he thinks he wouldn't necessarily feel better, because the situation is still less than ideal. But he does have a part of himself that would recognize it for their truth, and he would try to balance that inside of himself like a scale only ever made for the emotions of other people. Dream isn't an empath but sometimes it is like his vast spaces inside like that of dreamscapes make so much room for feeling that he understands very very well how they work when they get into his hands. Or he has.
Not one of those people ever were someone like Ciro, Ciro who Dream is, as much as he ever is, finds himself thrown off guard by. It's a compliment really even as it makes Dream warm in his cheeks and the tips of his ears, the back of his neck, little tells that are very human even if he knows he's probably something else. This whole house has the mix of smells of magic and tea and other things. Ciro has his own scent too. And Dream who hasn't let go of him either is less alarmed than someone else might be to find it would make him sad to do so.
Sadness. Happiness.
Affection.
What would it be like to feel them fully?
He's heard many people call them a hassle, even curse them, wish emotions away like some kind of dramatic scourge. Though he's also noted that no matter how sad a person might be when they call into his radio block, they don't say they wish they didn't feel it at all. They long for something past or something missed; they ache. They fear. But somehow, not one of the dozens and dozens of callers, has ever, he realizes, had that singular bitter note of regret.
Somehow, to Dream, that's a sign of hope, and he wonders if he might harness it for himself.
In the future, though not too far of one, when Dream experiences fear the way other people do, he'll sleep for days without waking once; he'll almost lose his job at the diner; he'll miss all his calls and seem, as if in preparation, to disappear. Then he'll wake up and things will go back to normal.
At least for a while.
But that's a bit later.]
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[Not enough to ease his concern entirely, but at least it would seem that Dream won't be as stressed as he is about it. It may be a good thing to keep it that way. Spending the time he has left, however long that may be, fretting over it wouldn't be a good usage of that time.
But..
He can argue that doing this isn't helping anything either. Getting closer to someone quite literally fading away. It's asking for trouble, but Ciro is the kind of reckless where he does what he feels is right regardless of the emotional damage it may do to himself. Life is too short to not indulge in the things that really make one happy.
His hands aren't overly enthusiastic about letting go of Dream, and so he doesn't. As if keeping him trapped right there against him would prevent his fluttering out of existence. Ciro rubs his hand up and down slowly along Dream's side as he closes his eyes for a bit. He finds that he doesn't want to sleep, anymore, but might keep trying in silence. If he can manage to keep quiet.
A few fingers disappear beneath Dream's shirt, brushing accidentally against his skin and Ciro finds he enjoys how it feels enough that his whole hand follows suit, just resting against Dream's waist.]
Are you still interested in letting me sing you to sleep?
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At present, Dream simply takes in Ciro's answer and turns it over on the surface of his thoughts the way moonlight fluctuates on the water. 'A little.' Better than not at all, he muses and without meaning to aligns his thoughts with his as well, if only a bit: that this is selfish of him, that he should, by all rights, slip out of Ciro's arms and apologize softly and leave. He's already been given a great deal by him; and even if this is comforting, perhaps Dream would be okay without it as he has done before; perhaps that's the better, kinder thing to do.
He doesn't.
Dream sighs the quietest most understated utterance of contentment without meaning to.... but maybe that's okay. Ciro's hand is warm. Ciro is warm. Or is this just Dream's perception of Ciro and how he is to him? Does that make it less true or more true? Neither? While Ciro's eyes are closed, Dream does like his poetry and counts his eyelashes and thinks of them as wishes.]
Well...if you want to? [The way Dream touches their foreheads together is gentle gentle gentle; he's never been so close to someone for such an unhurried moment, long enough for the other person to be able to tell even the 'weight' of his touch like that is unnaturally light - not like how it will be, but enough to cause dissonance, to make one want to check to see if they're awake or dreaming.] I want...you to do...whatever you like.
[Even if Ciro's eyes remain closed, he can probably hear the soft smile in Dream's tone as if he's saying without saying: but that's what I want for you in any situation.]
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As far as song choice goes, he's blanking out on anything recent so he starts to hum an old lullaby his mother used to sing him centuries ago. The words come to him easily, but whether or not Dream understands Japanese he sings on, still idly rubbing his hands over warm skin. His voice can carry a tune, but it's not as universally enjoyable as Dream's.
Whatever you like.
Ciro finds himself hoping that Dream is around long enough to regret those words. He sings the lullaby two times over, his tone is emotional and inconsistent throughout each song, like stone over a metal grater, but it doesn't sound bad as much as it sounds sad. It gives away a lot of how he's feeling deep down, not that he's done much to hide it.
Once he finishes the song, he looks directly at Dream, wondering what his assessment is. He wouldn't ask, but he's unsure his friend is the type to give unsolicited feedback, and so he does pose a question to prompt him to say something.]
Do you regret allowing me to sing yet?
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Rather than shake his head, Dream hopes his smile says enough as well as his actual words that are somehow both quite clear and very soft at their edges - the view before things become in focus personified.]
Nope. Maybe I'll ask for you to sing to me again.
[If Dream was a different person he probably wouldn't be here, or if he was here maybe they would tangle together with more emotion on Dream's part that is easily read, or perhaps not. Impossible to know but one can guess. Still, Dream is Dream and Ciro is Ciro. He doesn't: kiss his nose or even kiss him back on the mouth or most whimsical of all kiss him against the corner of his jaw where it would be very very easy to do so. He does: rest his face to the crook of Ciro's neck and shoulder, let the blink of his eyes brush the lines of his lashes to his skin there, let himself start to drift off first, for once.
It's the first time with anyone.
Dream hopes he remembers it as long as it's possible for him to remember anything at all.]