(no subject)
It was raining. Pouring, actually. Leo was wandering alone, tall trees reaching up into the night sky, sealing him in. His clothes were soaked through, curls flattened against his forehead. He jammed his hands into the damp pockets of his jeans, taking another turn to again try to find his way out of the forest.
He knew he was supposed to be looking for something, or someone, but he couldn't remember what. Or why.
Lightning cracked across the sky, followed up almost immediately by a boom of thunder. Leo jumped and turned on his heel, suddenly feeling like someone was behind him. He lost his footing and fell awkwardly against the slight slope beneath the trees, landing hard on his shoulder. He cried out in pain, clutching his arm against his body as the rain continued to pound down on him.
And then, with a jolt, he woke up. His gasp echoed softly in the crash room and he sat up immediately, his heart hamming in his chest. He flexed his arm, finding it uninjured, and swore lowly under his breath in German. He'd been having these dreams for at least a week, looking desperately in the dark forest for something he couldn't remember, falling and hurting himself each time. He didn't know what it meant, why he was having them, but they were starting to drive him crazy.
He slid off his bed, shivering as his bare feet hit the cold floor. It was always too cold inside for him, and even wrapped in his sheets and his towel, he almost always woke up shivering. He left his towel behind as he padded carefully through the room, out into the hall and headed toward the exit. It might not be much warmer outside in the middle of the night, but at least there was fresh air.
Once he got outside, he walked a few steps away from the compound, inhaling deeply. Goose bumps rose on his bare arms, and he rubbed them a little, looking out into the darkness. It was times like this that Leo really felt lost, homesick. Every time he woke up, he hoped he'd be in the tent he shared with Oli, or in his bed at his parents' house. Or even on the dock from where he'd disappeared. He wanted to be back in Berlin, to see his friends, his family, to speak in German and eat his mother's food and wear clothes that actually fit him. He was sixteen, and not a child, but he wanted to cry, to throw a temper tantrum until he was returned to where he belonged.
He swore again, more loudly this time, the words echoing out into the dark as tears pricked at the back of his eyes. He just wanted to go home.
He knew he was supposed to be looking for something, or someone, but he couldn't remember what. Or why.
Lightning cracked across the sky, followed up almost immediately by a boom of thunder. Leo jumped and turned on his heel, suddenly feeling like someone was behind him. He lost his footing and fell awkwardly against the slight slope beneath the trees, landing hard on his shoulder. He cried out in pain, clutching his arm against his body as the rain continued to pound down on him.
And then, with a jolt, he woke up. His gasp echoed softly in the crash room and he sat up immediately, his heart hamming in his chest. He flexed his arm, finding it uninjured, and swore lowly under his breath in German. He'd been having these dreams for at least a week, looking desperately in the dark forest for something he couldn't remember, falling and hurting himself each time. He didn't know what it meant, why he was having them, but they were starting to drive him crazy.
He slid off his bed, shivering as his bare feet hit the cold floor. It was always too cold inside for him, and even wrapped in his sheets and his towel, he almost always woke up shivering. He left his towel behind as he padded carefully through the room, out into the hall and headed toward the exit. It might not be much warmer outside in the middle of the night, but at least there was fresh air.
Once he got outside, he walked a few steps away from the compound, inhaling deeply. Goose bumps rose on his bare arms, and he rubbed them a little, looking out into the darkness. It was times like this that Leo really felt lost, homesick. Every time he woke up, he hoped he'd be in the tent he shared with Oli, or in his bed at his parents' house. Or even on the dock from where he'd disappeared. He wanted to be back in Berlin, to see his friends, his family, to speak in German and eat his mother's food and wear clothes that actually fit him. He was sixteen, and not a child, but he wanted to cry, to throw a temper tantrum until he was returned to where he belonged.
He swore again, more loudly this time, the words echoing out into the dark as tears pricked at the back of his eyes. He just wanted to go home.