SOL (ON HOLD)

CHAPTER 24

We went our separate ways, him heading to the castle and me to the Isle of Semele tower. I rubbed my hands over the goosebumps embellishing my arms. It was not a particularly cold night but it seemed the chill of the sessions earlier that day was just now sinking into my skin.

Ciel was already there and he looked up immediately he heard me approach, a worried smile plastered on his face.

"What happened in there? Are you okay? I was worried sick." I winced as he said the words, which only made him more concerned.

He wrapped me in a hug, his warmth welcome, as we moved to sit on our stone bench. He straddled the bench, facing me, the concern visible in his sharp features.

I explained as best as my heart would allow, describing Ceres and the woods and refusing to cry as I described what happened to him and the others.

He placed a hand over mine, and looked deep into my eyes, "Remember what we talked about. What's real and what's not. It was just Aleph, okay?"

I nodded because what could I say? That the plague was real for me? Real for Ceres?

Gazing into his deep brown eye I realized with a start how selfish I was being.

"I didn't even ask what happened to you," I said hurriedly, my cheeks flushing.

He smiled half-heartedly, raking a hand through his hair.

"I was trapped underwater," he began slowly, "drowning over and over again. I remember my vision blacked around the edges as the water pushed it's way into me. I fought to keep swimming to stay concious. I fought, until the water overwhelmed me. Until the water rushed into my nose and mouth and flooded into my ears and eyes. And still I fought. To breathe. To stay alive. But I drowned. And then I opened my eyes to find myself on land. I took in a deep breath of air but it was water, only water, all around me, inside me. I opened my mouth to scream but all that came out was water, and more water, until I was drowning all over again."

He spoke with an intensity I had never seen from him, his eyes burning holes into the cobblestone floor. He exhaled, tilting his head to the sky, as I saw those eyes fill with water.

"And, uh," he said, breathing deeply, "the worst part is it wasn't really me. It was January, my sister. I was watching her drown but I could see it, I could feel it."

"Oh, Ciel," I said, my eyes filling with tears, as I hugged him. I placed my hands at either side of his face, our eyes locked. "Like you said, it wasn't real, right?"

"It felt real," he said simply, trying and failing to smile.

"I know," I laughed, ruefully, "I know".

Because I did. I watched my friends die of the plague I was infected with, I ran a sword through my sister, I talked to my dad. And none of it was real. But that didn't make it better.

Because it was like the nightmares that kept me up at night. The events were fiction but the terror and desperation I felt, the helplessness and longing, that was real.

The tears that burned my eyes and clogged my throat, they were real.

The darkness that curled like a flame, deep in my chest, that was real too.

So at the end of the day, weren't the nightmares real too?