Storm (G/T)

Bittersweet Dreams

Nightmares aren't a common concern in my life. I pretty much never have them, and even when I do, they're forgettable. At the same time, things don't usually happen to me that are significant enough to trigger nightmares. Unfortunately for me, many significant things have happened recently.

Right as my head lays to rest, massive hands swoop in to grab me from no where, and I pass out from fear. Upon waking up again, I'm being blown over inside the house while the storm is happening, being crushed under debris. My final nightmare consists of me almost leaving once again.

My backpack has been fixed of the tears for an unexplained reason. As I begin to go out the door, Austin walks in and immediately sees me. I imagine that he'll be calm and collected again, but this is the time where he truly snaps. He makes no hesitation to furrow his eyebrows and swoop down to grab me in a tight fist, lifting me to his deep brown eyes.

He screams nonsense at me that I can't pick apart, his grip tightening at random points. It's becoming hard to breathe. Tears stream down my face as he keeps going, no sign of stopping his torrent of anger, with what I can only imagine are threats and plans to kill me or hurt me or anything else. What's he saying to me? What's happening to me? I really cannot breathe anymore. My ribs are being crushed by his hand. I'm being crushed. I can't breathe. I'm being crushed. I can't breathe...

I'm being crushed. I can't breathe. And I can't sit up. I'm fully awake now. Why can't I breathe?

As I try to move, I soon discover the problem. I'm actually being crushed by his hand and being unable to breathe. He said he doesn't move, but clearly that was a lie. With one big heave, I do my best to push it up and away from me, to no avail.

I can barely get air into my system. I don't want to go out like this. How can I get his attention? I really don't want to make him move. I've read enough fiction to know better than to wake a sleeping giant. Even if he's friendly.

So I lay there. Covered, blocked off, unable to move. I'm paralyzed from the torso and arms, only being able to move my legs due to the natural curve in his palm. My legs! I can kick up at his hand, and maybe he'll move it without waking up. I try it, and nothing happens. I try again, a few kicks at a time. One more, a really intense kick.

The opposite happens of what I expected. I wanted him to move without waking up, but he woke up without moving. "Go back to sleep, Robin..." he groggily slurs, eyes still closed, before going immediately back to sleep. I sit, too scared to move for a second before I know I'm in the clear.

Is he ticklish? He might retract if I tickle his hand enough. I softly use my legs to rub at him, expecting it to move away and closer to him. I keep going, with nothing happening. Eventually, his hand starts to shift. My arms are freed, so I take the liberty of pulling them out from underneath and using my hands too. Finally, he retracts, but doesn't wake. All is well.

I want to celebrate the best way I can imagine by falling back asleep, but I can't help but feel wrong. I'm locked here, god knows how far away from home. Moonlight shines through the window onto my captor's passed out face. He sleeps on his side, facing me. The soft blue hue illuminates the tanned freckles that scatter across his pale nose and cheeks, the same way the stars are speckled in the night sky. Unsatisfied with the idea of sleeping, I sit up and simply watch as his chest rises and falls in legato repetition.

What a massive person. I know that's to be expected for him since he's literally classified as a giant, but it's still amazing to see one in person. His eyes alone must be larger than my head. It's scary to know he exists, but also fascinating. There's an entire race of these creatures that can hold most other animals in the palms of their hands, and we still don't even know about each other. I get to observe one right in front of me. I wonder if he'd be easier to talk to given he were the size of a human. We'd might even be friends. Guess it's just the wrong place at the wrong time.

My stomach's been in constant motion since arriving here, but for once I feel calm. It feels strange, using my limited energy to just stare at the being causing all this chaos in my life. The more I examine his face, the more human he becomes. He smiles very softly amidst his sleep, and I can't help but smile too. I hope he's not awake, though. I quite enjoy the serenity of the moment, and I'm not prepared to have it ruined by the excitement of him being up and moving.

Standing up slowly, I take soft steps over to his face, and bend down promptly over his closed eyes. Well, only his left eye. If you blow on a person's eyes while they're sleeping and their eyelids flutter, they're faking it. I blow softly. Nothing. Harder. Still nothing. I blow almost aggressively onto him. Fast asleep.

I return to my spot and sit down to return to the moment, soaking in the moon's glow and the calm that comes with doing what I want while no one's watching. Now that I've mellowed out, my sleepiness catches up with me, and I pull the cover back over myself and let my head clear out while the night is ripe.

My mind decides to take a breather and refrain from dreaming for the rest of the night. It's for the best; vilifying Austin won't get me anywhere, especially not out of this house. Perhaps I'm better off waiting out the storm and returning to home (or what's left of it) once I know the cold won't bite me away. Austin was right, this is the better of two evils. Acceptance gifts me rest, peacefulness - even if it's temporary.

As expected, the peace doesn't last as long as hoped, as I'm woken up by the bed creaking. Someone's up. My eyes crack open as I watch his arm reach over me to retrieve his glasses, placing them aptly on his nose. He's now long taken off the bandaids, leaving a small mark where the wound from yesterday occurred. It's going to leave a scar.

"I surely hope you're excited for today, we get to sew!" he exclaims, the noise waking me right up. I liked it better when he was asleep. "Did you sleep well?"

"Yeah, sure," I lie.

He ruffles up his hair to keep it out of his face and smiles triumphantly. "I told you I wouldn't be a bother."