Let's Play Pretend - by seasandsalt

Chapter 7: Day Seven

Original Author's Beginning Notes:

// implied usage of the f slur (i can reclaim)

~

The smell of chlorine fills his nose like a bad perfume. It clings to his hair, his skin, the pillow beneath his head. He can smell it on his hand as he brings it up to brush the hair from his face, he can smell it on the t-shirt he's wearing.

Nick can smell the chlorine on Dream's skin, stuck to his body like honey, like molasses, like glue. He buries his nose in it, hiding his face in Dream's bare chest.

He's laying on his side facing Dream, his head supported by the fluffy pillow and his legs tangled with Dream's. Arms are around him, holding him close and secure and tight. Dream holds Nick to his chest as if he's scared he'll vanish if he lets go. His own arm is thrown over Dream's waist, hand hanging loosely and fingers barely touching the small of Dream's back. When he stretches his hand he can feel the waistband of Dream's sweatpants.

The room is bright, morning sun pooling in through their windows, easily slipping past the curtains they had forgotten to close the night before. Vibrations from the ship moving through the water create a gentle hum that mixes with their own soft breaths. Nick breathes deep, in through his nose and out through his mouth, parting his lips to blow his breath out against Dream's skin. Dream's snores are quiet, soft, gentle like him. Nick can feel his exhales ruffling the hair on the top of his head.

Something Nick has quickly come to notice is that Dream is warm; everything he does, every inch of his body and every ounce of his soul exudes warmth. Dream screams comfort and safety and heat and Nick's skin feels like it's burning.

Dream's hands are on him, one slipped under his shirt and pressed against the bare skin of his back and the other holding his thigh. Everywhere his hands touch, have touched, feels like coals and embers and fire, sparks and flames. Dream himself is forest fires and chemical burns and acid. Nick melts, crumbles, burns and bleeds and sins under his touch, under his gaze. He feels like he's burning up.

Nick shifts, tries to pull away from Dream, tries to give himself a bit more room to breathe and space to cool off. But Dream's arms tighten around him unconsciously, keep him close. Nick is squeezed by a still-sleeping Dream and hears the low, dissatisfied whine that comes from the back of Dream's throat. He mumbles something, a poor attempt at words and resumes snoring. Nick snorts out a laugh.

Dream's always been clingy.

It's not a tough decision for him to decide to close his eyes again and let himself be comfortable in Dream's arms. It's not a tough decision to move his leg, hook his ankle around Dream's. It's not a tough decision for him to bury his face in Dream's collarbone, inhale the sickly chlorine scent. It's not a tough decision for him to remember the night before.

Nick had drowned in him, let Dream consume him. Dream had wormed his way into his brain, bled into his skin, hid in his mind. Overrun and overruled every thought he had until all he could think was Dream, Dream, Dream. The night before was a symphony, the crescendo of music and whistles and bells, chimes and cheers. It was the applause, the standing ovation, the flutes and horns and strings.

This moment, right now, this morning is the calm, the aftermath, the decrescendo. It is the silence that falls over the theatre, the auditorium, the stage. It is the shuffling footsteps of patrons heading towards the exits, the half-drunk water bottles, the squeaking of chairs. This morning, this moment, is whispered words and hushed tones, shared secrets and stolen promises.

Dream is his stolen promise. Dream is rushed sentences and wheezing laughter and shaking hands and warm and Nick feels like he's melting.

Handprints burn into his skin where Dream touches him and he can't quite decide if he likes it or not. Can't quite decide if he likes the tattooed fingerprints and the palm-shaped bruises that Dream leaves with every gentle touch, caress. Everything Dream does is so... so Dream, so like him. It's infuriating and intoxicating and Nick breathes deeper, inhales more of the chlorine stuck to his skin from the swimming pool and allows himself to sink deeper into the mattress and deeper into his thoughts.