The Art of Living (Or To Die Trying) (boyxboy)

Chapter 18, Truth, trust, thrust

Would you please do me the huge favor of voting? *puppy-eyes* It would mean a lot to me!

So I pulled another all-nighter and my fingers just typed this stuff up all on their own. O_o Might edit this one later as well, just like the previous one. Again, it turned out really long xD Sorry about that guys.

I feel like I should probably warn you all that this is a pervy chapter, lol. Don't like, don't read.

Dedicating this one to GiovannieStorm, since his A Little Insane series has inspired me to start working on a new project, though I felt like I should make some progress with this one first - hence why I actually pulled together and wrote this chapter xD

Also, I was asked to make a banner for Vivian, so here's one that I whipped together at random. :]

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I wake up to an empty bed, feeling as if I've been knocked out cold for days. I might as well have been in a coma for a week, that's how bemused and disoriented I feel when my eyes flutter open. It's the first time in a while that I've woken up without remembering having dreamed anything. Key-word being “remembering” here, because I am sure that I must have dreamed, since I usually do, but I feel unusually well-rested—hence the feeling of having slept for days.

       Why of course, my conscience smiles, people usually sleep a lot better in their own bed, don't they? Hm, I suppose you might have a point there, yes. It's just sort of unexpected, I suppose. I thought that I'd have a restless night, waking up from dreams ever thirty minutes or so, and then having trouble falling asleep again, but apparently not.

       To tell the truth, yesterday was so overwhelming that I figured that I wouldn't be able to relax at all. Don't get me wrong, it feels great to be here, in my own home, and it feels even better to actually remember the house, even though I have no actual memories of it. It's just that the feelings that started welling up within after having come here – the sadness and the excruciating feeling of loss – are a lot more than I thought that I would have to handle. But then again, I honestly don't know what I thought would happen upon coming here at all.

       I recall the memory from last night, after my outburst against Daz when he insulted my unborn child. To my surprise the memory that resurfaced had nothing at all to do with neither the child nor Delilah, which is what anyone would have expected, and I just can't make any sense of it. What bugs me about it is that I never saw the face of the woman from the memory, yet I just knew that her name is Estellieze—and the very second the name came to me I also realized that it was the name which I had been searching for, the one to go with the blues eyes from my dreams.

       I feel like she was important to me, ridiculously much so, and judging by our jargon in the memory it's obvious that we were close. Therefore it sort of pains me to not know anything more about her. Though the absolute worst thing about it is definitely Daz's unwillingness to tell me anything about her. That in itself says a great deal of things.

       Whatever happened between her and I, I won't like it when I remember. I just get the ominous feeling that she's no longer alive. In other words, yet another person with ties to me who's dead, just like Delilah. I did say that “they're both dead” or “gone” or something similar yesterday, and I honestly don't quite know where that came from, but I was referring to Delilah and “Lieze”.

       ...and Daz didn't argue against it.

       I slowly sit up straight, blinking slowly as I draw a soft sigh. I suppose I understand the feeling of loss now. It has to be about her, Lieze, and judging by how I feel already – without even remembering who she was or what she meant to me, or even what actually happened to her – I finally understand why my brother doesn't want to remind me of it. In a way I suppose I also understand why I'd want to suppress the memories of it to begin with as well. I may not remember much about her, other than her name and her happy blue eyes, but somehow I just know that she was my best friend. At least that was the feeling I got from the memory yesterday—nothing actually romantic, but undying platonic love and friendship.