That Stranger || BL || BrightGulf

8. is it a Dream?

Bright ruffled in the sheets, his body restless, unable to shake off the lingering migraine that throbbed like a persistent drumbeat in his temples. Despite the sleep medication coursing through his veins, his mind remained a maze of conflicting thoughts.

The unsettling encounter with his ex at the party replayed in his mind like a broken record, the stranger's haunting memory weaving in and out of his consciousness like a ghostly apparition. As he tossed and turned, the sheets tangled around his legs like a snare, holding him captive.

His thoughts swirled, refusing to let him succumb to sleep. Frustration and anxiety wrestled for dominance, each thought tangling with the next like a knot.

Just as he was about to throw off the covers and rise, a hand grasped his torso from behind, pulling him into a tight, almost desperate embrace. The touch sent shivers down his spine, but instead of alarm, a sense of calm washed over him.

The hands roamed his chest, tracing absent patterns as warm tears spilled onto his back. Quiet sobs shook the stranger's body, the vibrations resonating deep within Bright's own chest, stirring a deep well of empathy.

Rather than surprise or alarm, Bright felt an unexpected sense of calm wash over him, as if he'd found a long-lost piece of himself. He turned in the sheets, his eyes locking onto the stranger's, illuminated by the moon's silvery glow.

Time seemed to freeze as their gazes met. Bright's eyes swelled with tears as he pulled the stranger closer, cradling his head in a protective gesture. The stranger's eyes, once dull and lifeless, now shone with a hint of warmth, a spark of hope.

Bright's fingers traced the bruises on the stranger's face, feeling a rage and anger towards the person behind this stranger's misery. His heart swelled with a sense of protectiveness, a fierce determination to keep this fragile soul safe.

As he gazed into the stranger's eyes, Bright saw a glimmer of recognition, a sense of connection that transcended words. In that moment, the world outside receded, leaving only the two of them, suspended in a sea of moonlight.

The stranger's face, once a mask of pain, now showed a hint of peace, his features relaxing into the safety of Bright's embrace. Bright's heart swelled, his emotions raw and exposed, as he realized that this stranger had become a lifeline, a connection to his own humanity. He pulled the stranger closer, cradling his head in a protective gesture.

"Don't worry, you're safe now," Bright whispered, his voice barely audible.

"I know..." the stranger replied, his voice barely above a whisper.

As they cuddled together, their bodies entwined, the world outside receded. The room filled with the soft symphony of their breathing, a soothing melody that lulled them into a peaceful slumber.

The moon cast its gentle light upon them, bathing their faces in an ethereal glow. For the first time in years, Bright slept without the weight of his demons.

When he finally awoke, it felt like an eternity had passed. "Good morning..." Bright smiled, turning to his left, expecting to see the stranger's face.

But the bed was empty, the sheets cold to the touch. Bright's smile faltered, his heart sinking like a stone. He sat up, his mind reeling with the sudden disappearance.

The room seemed to spin, and his head began to throb once more. Bright's thoughts swirled, questions tumbling forth like a landslide.

Was it all just a dream? Had the stranger ever been there at all? Bright's gaze scanned the empty room, searching for answers that seemed to vanish into thin air.

Bright stepped into the cold shower, letting the icy water cascade down his skin like a balm to his frazzled nerves. The wall-to-wall window of his hotel room framed a breathtaking view of the city below, but his gaze remained inward, lost in the turmoil of his thoughts.

As the cold water hit his skin, Bright felt his headache dissipate, washed away by the invigorating torrent. He emerged from the shower refreshed, wrapping a towel around his hips and drying his hair with another. But the tranquility was short-lived.

Settling onto the bed, Bright clicked on the TV and navigated to the business news channel. The anchor's voice droned in the background as Bright watched his company's stock prices soar, a satisfying surge in the market. Yet, the success felt hollow, tainted by the lingering unease.

Mild entered the room, his expression etched with concern. "How are you feeling now?" he asked, his eyes scanning Bright's features for any sign of discomfort.

Bright's gaze faltered, avoiding Mild's probing eyes. "Yeah, I'm good..." he replied, his voice laced with a hint of detachment, a thin veil over the turmoil brewing inside.

Mild's gaze lingered, searching for reassurance, but Bright's expression remained impassive, masking the storm within. After a moment, Mild stood up, checking his phone while Bright continued watching the news.

Suddenly, the anchor's voice took on an urgent tone. "We're getting breaking news... It's been reported that the Nakhon police chief is reopening the case of famous actor Gulf Smith's disappearance."

A photograph of Gulf Smith filled the screen, and Bright's heart skipped a beat. The actor's bright smile and radiant eyes seemed to leap off the screen, a stark contrast to the gaunt, bruised stranger Bright had encountered.

Bright's breath caught in his throat as memories came flooding back - the desperation in the stranger's eyes, the fragile grasp of his hand. A shiver ran down his spine.

Though the face was familiar, the transformation was jarring - from a vibrant, handsome star to a frail, battered individual. Yet, there was no doubt in Bright's mind; they were one and the same.

Mild's gaze shifted from the TV to Bright, their eyes locking in a silent understanding. The air seemed to thicken with unspoken questions.

Bright's eyes welled up, his emotions raw and exposed.

"I don't want to stay here anymore," Bright said, his voice cracking, emotionless no more. "Let's head home."

Mild nodded in agreement, his expression sympathetic. He knew that Nakhon, Bright's hometown, held painful memories - tragedies that had scarred Bright's family and left emotional wounds.

Yesterday's encounter had only deepened Bright's resolve to escape this place. Mild quickly arranged for their private jet to depart for Islington, eager to extricate Bright from the darkness that seemed to be closing in around him.

As they prepared to leave, Bright's thoughts swirled with the implications of Gulf Smith's disappearance and the stranger's true identity. The past and present seemed to collide, threatening to upend Bright's carefully constructed world.

His heart heavy with regret, Bright rose from the bed, his eyes never leaving the TV screen, where Gulf Smith's smile seemed to haunt him still.
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ִֶָ𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ🐚🪐་༘࿐