must be dreaming

~

"I must be dreaming, or,

We're onto something..."

~

Nathaniel felt calm, and listless, totally at peace.

He was lying on his back, soft grass between his fingertips. Above him stood a tree, branches stretching out wide. The branches were full to bursting with leaves, casting down shade. Sunlight dappled through the leaves, gold and red dancing behind his eyelids whenever they fluttered closed.

The place felt indistinct. Maybe he was lost, deep inside a grand forest. Maybe he was just lying down at a park. He wasn't sure.

What he was sure was that the green of the tree above him was gorgeous, a vibrant shade that sparkled and danced in the gentle wind and sunlight.

He wasn't alone, either. His head was in someone's lap, and they were stroking their fingers through his hair. Soft and soothing and steady. He felt content, and safe. Loved, even.

He closed his eyes, for a long moment, and then opened them once more. The tree's leaves were just as green as before. But so were the pair of eyes peering back at him.

Nathaniel knew those eyes, emeralds surrounded by a legion of dark, barren branches. Soft eyes, kind eyes, familiar eyes.

Nathaniel blinked, and then Marc's face came into focus. Marc's face was bent over Nathaniel's, eyes crinkled, shiny pink lips pulled into a sweet smile. Dark strands of hair framed his face like a messy hallo.

Marc looked like he fit into the scenery perfectly. He was a wood nymph, ethereally beautiful. Nearly intangible to grasp.

Except the fingers were still threading through Nathaniel's hair, and Marc was above him, and his head was pillowed in a warm lap. All real.

It felt strange, but familiar. He's never put his head on Marc's lap—at least, from what he can remember. He's also never had Marc pet his hair like this. But the motions feel natural.

Nathaniel blinks again, at Marc's blinding smile, teeth white and gleaming. He feels fuzzy all over. But something in his chest lurches. He thinks its his heart missing a beat.

Marc's fingers are in his hair. Marc's smile is sweet on his kissable-pink lips. Marc's eyes are as green as the tree leaves above them. "Nathaniel..." Marc breathes out, voice soft. Again, his heart misses a beat once more.

Nathaniel tries to work his jaw, even though he feels lethargic and boneless and completely incapable of moving a muscle. "Marc?" he mumbles back, just barely above a whisper.

"Nathaniel..." Marc says once more, voice a sweet coo. The sunlight gets brighter behind his head, streaking his dark hair silver.

"Mmm?" Nathaniel asks. "Yeah?"

"Wake up, Nathaniel," Marc states, but his voice sounds strange. Distant. Lighter and higher.

"Marc...?"

"Wake up."

The sunlight burns brighter, illuminating all of Marc's form. He looks angelic. Ethereal.

The fingers stop combing through Nathaniel's hair, disentangling completely from his locks. He whines, feeling the loss instantly.

"C'mon, Nath. Wake up already," Marc insists in that suddenly-high voice, as the colors blur. The green of the trees is replaced by bright, white light. Marc's form becomes fuzzy and indistinct, like looking through fogged glass.