Tower of Babel (Jonathan Ariga X Reader)

[5] Hands

A/N: I think his is a relatively well written update and in decent time. This chapter is mostly establishing the nightmares, but next chapter will probably have more Jonny related content. Enjoy~

~(Your/Name)/ First Person POV~

When I opened my eyes, I was met with a violently pink light ahead of me and an ominous echoing of footsteps around me- about several sheep, all around my height and wearing pyjamas in some form, were walking toward the mysterious beacon. Unconsciously, my feet had began to slide across the dark floor, following the herd in hopes of figuring out what was going on.
Reaching the source of the light, it was a slightly ajar door. I looked around confusedly- where were the other sheep? "What a weird fuckin' dream" I mumbled to myself, grabbing onto the door handle and pushing it open, being optimistic that it might be helpful- but I was quickly met with crashing disappointment when I saw a tower of blocks afront me.

Was this the same nightmare I had yesterday?

I groaned, turning around to go back through the door (I'd rather sit in the dark until I woke up rather than climb another tower) but jumped back when I nearly fell into a dark pit below; "wheres the door!?" My voice screeched, panic coming down thick and fast as I shuffled further away from the edge. Even if this was a dream, I didnt want to fall- who knows what would happen.
"Hey! Hurry on up!"
I recognised that voice, swinging my head up I shouted back, "are you who helped me last night!?"
"We can talk at the landing! For now, just climb!"

Heeding the mysterious words, I hastily began to upscale the tower, using basically the same pattern and techniques as the night before- it hurt my joints when I attempted to stretch both arms out to get a decent grip on the blocks, but I was more willing to do that then surrender to whatever horror lay beneath me and the crumbling tower. As I climbed, I wondered what was happening: it wasnt common for me to have reoccurring nightmares, especially two nights in a row and these ones seemed so real I half expected to wake up with scars on my hands and bruises from climbing all the rough stone edges. Eventually, after what felt  like an hour of climbing, a bell began to ring above me- its noise managed to raise the migraine that had settled when I first fell asleep and I groaned from more than just tire when I reached the slightly familiar door at the top.

When I opened it, i was met with a weird landing of sorts- it was made of the same stone as the blocks, but it was a flat area, with pew like seats lined up toward a confessional booth and crimson carpet. Not to mention, several sheep like the ones I'd seen when I first appeared here. "You made it!" A voice exasperatedly spoke, the sheep it came from bounded toward me and I stepped back before holding out my hand to stop the approacher; "y-youre the one who helped me the last two nights right?" I tried to figure out the situation in my head but was just confused by the onslaught of information. "Yeah, you were the last one to appear" she explained- the sheep wore a beige blazer and had brunette wavy hair. Some part of my brain claimed I knew her, but How would I recognise a sheep? "What is this place?" I managed to ask, my throat dry and voice shaking slightly under the stress of the situation, the sheep in the blazer sighed, "nobody knows- but when we go into the confessional, they say this is all a test" she rose a hand to her woolly chest in sympathy.

Going around, none of the sheep knew what the place was but we all knew one thing- climbing was our only option.

At first, I sat on a pew, hoping that maybe if I stayed there long enough- maybe I'd just wake up in the real world. But after about half an hour, and some internal arguments, I realised the sheep were right and the only way out was to climb. The confessional looked intimidating, with golden, rust encroached upon cherub statues that welcomed all the sheep in; it was almost like the statues of winged babies mocked us, mocked us through their bright eyes staring down and their tiny hands outstretched to guide us. Inside, the box was stuffy but had an ethereal glow that was almost comforting despite the heat- a voice spoke, echoing but clear, and asked me some hypothetical question I barely gave thought too.

When I was transported to the next stage, I was warned by some other voice that I would be chased- it was blunt and at first I was confused. Yet my words were quickly forgotten when a deep rumble came from below: two large, pale hands shot up from the darkness, one covered in oil or something you would expect from a mechanic, and the other held a massive cigarette (about the height of me) in between two fingers. The smell practically choked me instantly, spurring me on to hurry and scale the tower. The hands swept over the stage as I climbed, stubbing out the end of the cigarette on blocks beside me (clearly attempting to hit me) or spreading motor oil on specific blocks so I may slip and fall down the tower- at one point, the monstrous cigarette was so close to me, I could feel the heat radiating from the half lit end. I gagged and proceeded to drag myself up the blocks. On several occasions, deep monotone groans travelled from the darkness, increasing in aggravation every time the hands missed attacking me or if I managed to avoid some trap on the tower.

Eventually, after what felt like hours of climbing, when my hands were red raw and throbbed after how many times they'd lifted me- the bell chime became clearer, and a glowing block appeared just a few metres above me. It was the exit. THANK GOD, I mentally screamed, using whatever left over strength to haphazardly drag myself onto the podium; yet when the hands caught up to my position at the top of the tower, they encroached upon me in one fell swoop. In a panic, I leaped back, feeling my shoulders hit the door behind me before quickly continuing to fall back- I'd opened the door by falling into it. A blinding stream of light shot out over my head and basically disintegrated the enemy within seconds. All was silent for a moment, before I gave out a nervous laugh, which quickly turned into hysterical cackles that made me begin to cry; all the panic had built inside me that it now seeped out in an untorrented flood of emotion as I found myself crying from the fear, while laughing in victory.

My pillow vibrating was what woke me up. It was my alarm, I knew what it was, and yet it made me Yelp when I opened my eyes. My whole body ached enormously, my head was better but still had a dull pain right at the back and my ears were ringing. What was even wrong with me?
I turned the alarm off and scrolled through my phone notifications: emails from work, random spam... a text from Jonny.

JONNY (06:23):
Hey, hope you're feeling better today. The guys and me are going to be at SS tonight if you want to join

I groaned, feeling my chest tighten and heart flutter gently- just the fact he cared enough to say that, to check I was okay, meant the whole world to me.