[Fic]: A Falta Así de Confesor
Title: A Falta Así de Confesor
Rating: pg-13 (to be safe)
Warnigs: None I think
Notes: Second in the Dream a Little Dream of Me Series.
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Illusion, Shadow, Fiction | A Falta Así de Confesor | All That We See, Part One, Part Two | Into One Hour, Part One, Part Two, Part Three |
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I'm leaving here, I don't want to hear myself anymore;
from my voice every voice sounds to me like an echo,
and lacking a confessor like this, if I sin,
it eludes me being able to repent.
In Insomnia's Hours, Sonnet I Fragment - Miguel de Unamuno
(Direct translation from spanish by me. It was harder to satisfactorily translate, this one).
It all started with dreams.
Dreams that are not his. Dreams that now are; dreams that feel like they've always have been.
Ben dreams of stolen dreams: of stolen days in the endless gray winters, of painful memories, betrayal and hatred, of stolen kisses and stolen love and heart and soul. He dreams of stealing, of taking everything that Kevin has; everything that Kevin is.
He's a thief. Ben is the thief this time around.
He can almost feel the tingle of anticipation in his fingertips, sometimes. He can almost feel himself giving in and reaching out for Kevin, taking his face in his hands, his wrists, his hips; taking a kiss, robbing his breath and keeping Kevin captive, at his mercy, his.
Ben wants to keep taking and taking without ever giving anything back.
It's terrifying. Part of himself hates it, this darkness he hadn't known he possessed. This crawling itch, this want tainted with such deep selfishness. Possessiveness. Ownership.
Kevin deserves better, he tries to remind himself; every day, hour, minute, second. He lets time pass silently and he watches. Pale skin and dark, dark hair and eyes the rich color of moist earth; strong, wide back and arms and big calloused hands. Smiles a rare occurrence; lips full of smirks and snarls and set in sullen straight lines.
Ben just watches; doesn't allow himself to touch.
He resists sleep as long as he's able. He doesn't want to fall asleep, because then he won't be able to stop dreaming Kevin's dreams. Dreams he has no right invading without Kevin's consent. Dreams he has no right to crave when Kevin is unaware of them, buried deep in his subconscious as they are.
Ben has no claim on anything inside those dreams, not when Kevin's conscious mind keeps focusing away from him. Not when offhand dismissal of Kevin's thoughts of Ben keeps happening. Not when Kevin doesn't know what he wants. Not when Ben isn't sure he'll be able to be fair with Kevin's needs if he ever actually sets his sight on Ben, if Kevin ever actually wants Ben the way his dreams do.
Weeks pass and it starts becoming obvious, the way Ben is having troubles. The darkening rings under his eyes are pointed out, his crankiness, his lack of appetite.
Ben finally cracks and manages to corner Gwen alone.
He doesn't tell her anything important, not really. Just enough to make it sound like nightmares he hasn't been able to get rid off. “There's this place,” he says to her, “Inside my head,” he clarifies, “Could you try blocking it?”
She frowns, a little suspicious, “How can you tell they come from a certain place?”
“C'mon, Gwen, I've tried everything, including meditation, but it doesn't help. It just feels they're coming from there when I'm half asleep. I can't explain how I know, I just do.”
Even though skeptical, she ends up doing it, sternly admonishing Ben to tell her if he feels anything out of place at all. He distracts her with a quip about “mother hen syndrome” and closes his eyes while he promises, relief sparking inside him when no accusation of lying comes forth before she focuses her energy into his mind.
Ben thinks about that dark place inside him, the mental warehouse that holds the way to his unethically obtained treasures, unintentionally as they might have been at first, those somehow innocent robberies.
Not long after he's showed Gwen the way he feels her sealing up the place, and in his mind's eye he can clearly feel the pink steel barrier severing the access. It hurts something deep inside Ben, but he forces himself into faking relief, maybe letting a little bit of anxious hope bleed through to his cousin, hoping to make the mental lie a bit more believable.
“All done,” she says, and Ben thanks her.
When he sleeps that night, he doesn't dream.
He wakes up the following morning feeling empty.
Sequel -> All That We See
Previous <
---
Notes again: Ben is freaking out, you guys! I kind of wanna be more mean to him xD; I apologize for the... strangeness of this piece; I'm quite tired of staring at it without it complying and somehow turning into something better. Wish me luck with next part.
Rating: pg-13 (to be safe)
Warnigs: None I think
Notes: Second in the Dream a Little Dream of Me Series.
---
Illusion, Shadow, Fiction | A Falta Así de Confesor | All That We See, Part One, Part Two | Into One Hour, Part One, Part Two, Part Three |
---
I'm leaving here, I don't want to hear myself anymore;
from my voice every voice sounds to me like an echo,
and lacking a confessor like this, if I sin,
it eludes me being able to repent.
In Insomnia's Hours, Sonnet I Fragment - Miguel de Unamuno
(Direct translation from spanish by me. It was harder to satisfactorily translate, this one).
It all started with dreams.
Dreams that are not his. Dreams that now are; dreams that feel like they've always have been.
Ben dreams of stolen dreams: of stolen days in the endless gray winters, of painful memories, betrayal and hatred, of stolen kisses and stolen love and heart and soul. He dreams of stealing, of taking everything that Kevin has; everything that Kevin is.
He's a thief. Ben is the thief this time around.
He can almost feel the tingle of anticipation in his fingertips, sometimes. He can almost feel himself giving in and reaching out for Kevin, taking his face in his hands, his wrists, his hips; taking a kiss, robbing his breath and keeping Kevin captive, at his mercy, his.
Ben wants to keep taking and taking without ever giving anything back.
It's terrifying. Part of himself hates it, this darkness he hadn't known he possessed. This crawling itch, this want tainted with such deep selfishness. Possessiveness. Ownership.
Kevin deserves better, he tries to remind himself; every day, hour, minute, second. He lets time pass silently and he watches. Pale skin and dark, dark hair and eyes the rich color of moist earth; strong, wide back and arms and big calloused hands. Smiles a rare occurrence; lips full of smirks and snarls and set in sullen straight lines.
Ben just watches; doesn't allow himself to touch.
He resists sleep as long as he's able. He doesn't want to fall asleep, because then he won't be able to stop dreaming Kevin's dreams. Dreams he has no right invading without Kevin's consent. Dreams he has no right to crave when Kevin is unaware of them, buried deep in his subconscious as they are.
Ben has no claim on anything inside those dreams, not when Kevin's conscious mind keeps focusing away from him. Not when offhand dismissal of Kevin's thoughts of Ben keeps happening. Not when Kevin doesn't know what he wants. Not when Ben isn't sure he'll be able to be fair with Kevin's needs if he ever actually sets his sight on Ben, if Kevin ever actually wants Ben the way his dreams do.
Weeks pass and it starts becoming obvious, the way Ben is having troubles. The darkening rings under his eyes are pointed out, his crankiness, his lack of appetite.
Ben finally cracks and manages to corner Gwen alone.
He doesn't tell her anything important, not really. Just enough to make it sound like nightmares he hasn't been able to get rid off. “There's this place,” he says to her, “Inside my head,” he clarifies, “Could you try blocking it?”
She frowns, a little suspicious, “How can you tell they come from a certain place?”
“C'mon, Gwen, I've tried everything, including meditation, but it doesn't help. It just feels they're coming from there when I'm half asleep. I can't explain how I know, I just do.”
Even though skeptical, she ends up doing it, sternly admonishing Ben to tell her if he feels anything out of place at all. He distracts her with a quip about “mother hen syndrome” and closes his eyes while he promises, relief sparking inside him when no accusation of lying comes forth before she focuses her energy into his mind.
Ben thinks about that dark place inside him, the mental warehouse that holds the way to his unethically obtained treasures, unintentionally as they might have been at first, those somehow innocent robberies.
Not long after he's showed Gwen the way he feels her sealing up the place, and in his mind's eye he can clearly feel the pink steel barrier severing the access. It hurts something deep inside Ben, but he forces himself into faking relief, maybe letting a little bit of anxious hope bleed through to his cousin, hoping to make the mental lie a bit more believable.
“All done,” she says, and Ben thanks her.
When he sleeps that night, he doesn't dream.
He wakes up the following morning feeling empty.
Sequel -> All That We See
Previous <
---
Notes again: Ben is freaking out, you guys! I kind of wanna be more mean to him xD; I apologize for the... strangeness of this piece; I'm quite tired of staring at it without it complying and somehow turning into something better. Wish me luck with next part.