Like We Do
Joking around, he would have called it the Jesus pose. Legs straight, arms spread perpendicular to body. But right now he was floating, not flying but floating through the air.
No, he was falling.
He landed on the bed with a thump, eyes wide open and sweating through his nightclothes. One hand twitched again, you only sat bolt upright in the movies, seriously, but he had definitely twitched awake. His hand still stung where he'd banged it against the wall. And his other hand twitched, that arm feeling the lack of a body's weight on it.
Intellectually, when he could calm down, he knew where Aaron was. This was his skinny dorm bed, and he was still in school getting that certification and so on that he'd wanted, and Aaron was some hours' drive away in law school, probably either sleeping or cramming for a test. His mind wasn't up to figuring out what day it was or whether or not Aaron had a test tomorrow. Today. Whatever day it was. He knew that. He was in his bed, in his school, Aaron was in his own bed, this wasn't the apartment, they were all where they should be.
But his heart was still pounding away in his chest, and he could still feel that weightlessness of falling. And that sick, twisted part of his mind that harped on such things was jumping up and down on the nightmare nerve, wondering with a sadistic and clinical tone if it felt like being weightless when you were jumping to your supposed death or if you just counted down the seconds till it was over. You could always ask, that voice whispered inside his head.
Shut up. Shut the fuck up.
He wasn't going to get back to sleep anytime soon. He didn't even know what had brought that on, either. Something was going screwy in his head, stress from upcoming tests, maybe, who knew. Stress from something. It was better than the idea that it was something in the air, a rash of suicides, everyone grieving over dead lovers, dead friends. He should stop reading the news.
Dale sat up on his bed, dug his palms into his eyes for a second and tried to catch his breath. Fingers pushed his hair back, long as it was. He should really get it cut short, it didn't exactly give a professional caretaker of young minds kind of impression. Except now he was thinking of Aaron's fingers curled in his hair, Aaron's hand sliding through his hair as they stretched out on the bed, and he really didn't want to. Maybe later. When he had to interview for jobs and there was no getting out of it.
God, he missed his boyfriend. And with all that was going on in the news, yeah, he was a little scared for him, too. Aaron had grown up so different. Not being sure of himself, being told over and over again that what he felt was bad and sick and wrong. Constantly being on guard. And maybe it was the middle of the night talking, but now all Dale could think of was Aaron's parents getting ahold of him when he wasn't there and telling him how he could make best use of his time now that he didn't have to live with that unnatural perverted boy anymore.
"Now that's really stupid," he muttered to himself. "Come on." No, Aaron's parents... okay, yeah, actually, he could totally see them trying that, maybe twice. Through email and over the phone, once each. But he'd gotten a good look at Aaron's temper quite a few times, now, and even if it popped up much less often these days, that didn't mean it was gone. Only this time, his parents would be the ones on the receiving end instead of being the cause of it. Dale could live with that.
What he couldn't live with, he realized suddenly, was Aaron turning that temper inward. At himself, which, god. He could barely imagine having so much self-loathing and self-whatever it was that made Aaron take a swan dive off the ...
Stop that! What the hell.
Deep breaths. Eyes closed, forehead on knees, arms loose over his shins. This nightmare was going to kill him, he was sure of it. As sure as he was that it was just hyperbole and it would calm down and be better in the morning, it was just now in the middle of the night after a dream about falling from a high place onto a hard surface that it was hard. After everything he'd read in the news lately, knowing what Aaron had done. It was hard.
The hell with this, no, if this was what was filling his thoughts, he'd have to replace it with something. Dale shoved himself out of the bed and onto the floor, bare feet kicking aside papers and textbooks. Over to the computer, where his email program was sleeping.
The first couple of emails were spam and class stuff, but underneath that were a bunch of saved emails, a stack of them, Aaron's stories of what he'd been doing and some attached picture files, auburn hair in waves his fingers still remembered the feel of and bright eyes, as bright as they could be. Sharp arch of cheekbones he'd traced and kissed, smiling mouth he remembered. Much, better. Dale would never have admitted it out loud, not ever, but he totally did trace Aaron's mouth on the screen there, just for the memory, fingertips light on the cool monitor glass.
All right, now his heart was steadying and his mind was clearing of the worst of the images. Sense was starting to return; Aaron wasn't going to do anything stupid. No one was going to do anything stupid. He didn't need to rush off in the middle of the night, although if he did no doubt the emotional payoff would be way worth it. The hit to his schoolwork, maybe less so.
And it wasn't that long, now. They had a good long weekend coming up, they weren't that far from each other, it wasn't that long. He could wait. Maybe he couldn't wait patiently, he'd never been all that good about being patient for some things, sex, sure, but just seeing the other person? Not really. But it still wasn't that long, and pretty soon they'd both be curled up on a skinny dorm bed, getting tangled in the sheets and if that stupid nightmare came back again all he'd have to do would be to wake up and get a good look at his boyfriend, sleeping safe and whole and alive and well beside him. Not splattered all over the pavement or the inside of a car. Not anymore, not ever again. Wasn't happening. This was here and now, this, trading emails and texts and phone calls and internet calls, mugging for the webcam and marking the days down on the calendar.
Dale realized he was starting to fall asleep at the desk when his computer beeped a reprimand at him for holding down the shift key too much. Bedtime, again. Sleeping, take two, without nightmares. Maybe, instead, with happy (somewhat horny) dreams of a handsome, smiling young man with soft auburn hair and a shy, kind smile just for him.
No, he was falling.
He landed on the bed with a thump, eyes wide open and sweating through his nightclothes. One hand twitched again, you only sat bolt upright in the movies, seriously, but he had definitely twitched awake. His hand still stung where he'd banged it against the wall. And his other hand twitched, that arm feeling the lack of a body's weight on it.
Intellectually, when he could calm down, he knew where Aaron was. This was his skinny dorm bed, and he was still in school getting that certification and so on that he'd wanted, and Aaron was some hours' drive away in law school, probably either sleeping or cramming for a test. His mind wasn't up to figuring out what day it was or whether or not Aaron had a test tomorrow. Today. Whatever day it was. He knew that. He was in his bed, in his school, Aaron was in his own bed, this wasn't the apartment, they were all where they should be.
But his heart was still pounding away in his chest, and he could still feel that weightlessness of falling. And that sick, twisted part of his mind that harped on such things was jumping up and down on the nightmare nerve, wondering with a sadistic and clinical tone if it felt like being weightless when you were jumping to your supposed death or if you just counted down the seconds till it was over. You could always ask, that voice whispered inside his head.
Shut up. Shut the fuck up.
He wasn't going to get back to sleep anytime soon. He didn't even know what had brought that on, either. Something was going screwy in his head, stress from upcoming tests, maybe, who knew. Stress from something. It was better than the idea that it was something in the air, a rash of suicides, everyone grieving over dead lovers, dead friends. He should stop reading the news.
Dale sat up on his bed, dug his palms into his eyes for a second and tried to catch his breath. Fingers pushed his hair back, long as it was. He should really get it cut short, it didn't exactly give a professional caretaker of young minds kind of impression. Except now he was thinking of Aaron's fingers curled in his hair, Aaron's hand sliding through his hair as they stretched out on the bed, and he really didn't want to. Maybe later. When he had to interview for jobs and there was no getting out of it.
God, he missed his boyfriend. And with all that was going on in the news, yeah, he was a little scared for him, too. Aaron had grown up so different. Not being sure of himself, being told over and over again that what he felt was bad and sick and wrong. Constantly being on guard. And maybe it was the middle of the night talking, but now all Dale could think of was Aaron's parents getting ahold of him when he wasn't there and telling him how he could make best use of his time now that he didn't have to live with that unnatural perverted boy anymore.
"Now that's really stupid," he muttered to himself. "Come on." No, Aaron's parents... okay, yeah, actually, he could totally see them trying that, maybe twice. Through email and over the phone, once each. But he'd gotten a good look at Aaron's temper quite a few times, now, and even if it popped up much less often these days, that didn't mean it was gone. Only this time, his parents would be the ones on the receiving end instead of being the cause of it. Dale could live with that.
What he couldn't live with, he realized suddenly, was Aaron turning that temper inward. At himself, which, god. He could barely imagine having so much self-loathing and self-whatever it was that made Aaron take a swan dive off the ...
Stop that! What the hell.
Deep breaths. Eyes closed, forehead on knees, arms loose over his shins. This nightmare was going to kill him, he was sure of it. As sure as he was that it was just hyperbole and it would calm down and be better in the morning, it was just now in the middle of the night after a dream about falling from a high place onto a hard surface that it was hard. After everything he'd read in the news lately, knowing what Aaron had done. It was hard.
The hell with this, no, if this was what was filling his thoughts, he'd have to replace it with something. Dale shoved himself out of the bed and onto the floor, bare feet kicking aside papers and textbooks. Over to the computer, where his email program was sleeping.
The first couple of emails were spam and class stuff, but underneath that were a bunch of saved emails, a stack of them, Aaron's stories of what he'd been doing and some attached picture files, auburn hair in waves his fingers still remembered the feel of and bright eyes, as bright as they could be. Sharp arch of cheekbones he'd traced and kissed, smiling mouth he remembered. Much, better. Dale would never have admitted it out loud, not ever, but he totally did trace Aaron's mouth on the screen there, just for the memory, fingertips light on the cool monitor glass.
All right, now his heart was steadying and his mind was clearing of the worst of the images. Sense was starting to return; Aaron wasn't going to do anything stupid. No one was going to do anything stupid. He didn't need to rush off in the middle of the night, although if he did no doubt the emotional payoff would be way worth it. The hit to his schoolwork, maybe less so.
And it wasn't that long, now. They had a good long weekend coming up, they weren't that far from each other, it wasn't that long. He could wait. Maybe he couldn't wait patiently, he'd never been all that good about being patient for some things, sex, sure, but just seeing the other person? Not really. But it still wasn't that long, and pretty soon they'd both be curled up on a skinny dorm bed, getting tangled in the sheets and if that stupid nightmare came back again all he'd have to do would be to wake up and get a good look at his boyfriend, sleeping safe and whole and alive and well beside him. Not splattered all over the pavement or the inside of a car. Not anymore, not ever again. Wasn't happening. This was here and now, this, trading emails and texts and phone calls and internet calls, mugging for the webcam and marking the days down on the calendar.
Dale realized he was starting to fall asleep at the desk when his computer beeped a reprimand at him for holding down the shift key too much. Bedtime, again. Sleeping, take two, without nightmares. Maybe, instead, with happy (somewhat horny) dreams of a handsome, smiling young man with soft auburn hair and a shy, kind smile just for him.