A Thousand More

Out of My Head

A/N: Going to be Frank from here on out, unless otherwise shown. As usual, italics are both thoughts and dreams. Picture is how I've been editing chiz. Ignore my chicken scratch :P As you'll notice, there will still be changes between that edit and the final product
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Sighing, I opened the door to my apartment, promptly plopping on the couch once inside, the loneliness weighing down on me near immediately. My thoughts slowly drifted back towards the man from the cafe, something about him drawing me in, despite it being hours later. It seemed like I couldn't get him out of my head, not that I minded too badly, but it didn't make sense to me. I mean sure, he was attractive, but other than that, nothing about him appeared out of the ordinary...but then why was I so fascinated? Back to square one, it seemed, but it was a good distraction from the dull ache in my neck and exhaustion clouding my mind.
Shaking my head in a less than half-hearted attempt to clear my head of him, I got up and went to go take a shower, hoping that it would wake me up and help me focus even though previous experiences told me it was futile. Glancing at the mirror as I went in, I saw that the bags under my eyes appeared to be sunken in so far that they were near reaching the floor. Twisting the knob, steam slowly filled the room and I hopped in, sighing in content as the warm water massaged my back. I ran my hands through my hair, pushing the strands out of my face and just let my mind drift, but before too long, my mind snapped away from the fascinatingly ordinary man for the first time since the cafe as crimson eyes flashed before my own, causing me to stumble and have to slam myself against the wall to keep me standing upright. The eyes hadn't literally been there, mind you, I'm not insane yet, but more so like one of those vivid memories where it feels almost like you're reliving it. The only problem with that is I don't think I've ever seen eyes like that before in my life, not even in the movies. Besides, the image had been up close and personal, not on some screen.
Realizing the scare had caused my breathing to elevate, I placed a steadying hand against my chest and took a deep breath. After calming down, I quickly turned off the water in case that happened again and got out, wrapping a towel around myself and going to my room to get dressed in warm pajamas, not planning to go to sleep, just to get comfortable.
Padding down the hallway, my hair still dripping every now and then, I curled up in the corner of the couch and turned the TV on. Strange enough, as soon as the TV was on, a commercial about God knows what with a man saying, clearly trying not to laugh, "You can touch it." I snorted and settled in, waiting for the actual movie to come on. When it finally came on, I was hooked and I would have loved to watch it, see where it went, but something in me just couldn't handle it. Quickly turning off the tv with shaky hands, I grabbed the fluffy olive green blanket from the back of my couch and threw it around myself, cocooning inside it to calm myself. But thing was, I didn't understand what I needed calming from! The movie wasn't even that bad yet, just showing a man killing somebody and zooming into his eyes, clearly afraid transitioning to his eyes full of regret, zooming out to show him at a desk somewhere, and that's where I had stopped. It wasn't even that graphic, so what was wrong with me?!
I would have run my hand through my hair, but as I didn't want to mess up my warm cocoon just yet, I just settled for a sigh and snuggled further into the blanket and shifted so I can lay back comfortably without having to adjust the blanket too much.
Predatory wine red eyes stared at me from the inky black of the night, keeping distance. I know I should have been afraid, someone was in my house and I couldn't even see them beyond their eyes, not to mention the hungry look and the color of their eyes, but I was eerily calm. In fact, I felt drawn in, compelled to reach my hand out to touch...so I did, just holding my hand out in offering, palm up. For a moment, those eyes flashed with fear, before striking like a cobra. Quicker than a blink, those eyes were no more than three centimeters from my face all of a sudden, searching my own, as if for confirmation. Alarming as it should have been, all I could find myself capable of doing was resting the offered hand against the cheek of the other, caressing their (his, my mind whispered) cheek as I would a loved one, my gaze never straying from his. The eyes fluttered closed and nuzzled my hand, turning into it, laying a gentle kiss to the palm, and laying their own hand over mine. Slowly trailing the kisses down my arm until the area right after my wrist, I felt something sharp graze the area. His eyes opened, looking at me once more, for permission this time, lips still resting there. Afraid to break the silence, I merely nodded and with that, the sharp object returned, barely touching the skin there, but any more pressure and it'd break the surface. Gazes locked and what I now recognized as fangs gleaming, he gently bit down and-
I opened my eyes. Looking around, I frowned, almost disappointed not to find those eyes hiding in the whispy shadows, but stopped myself. It was a dream, nothing more, nothing less.