5am 🥺
thank you sweetness, i hope this is alright! it got away from me a bit and could probably be More but i’m calling it quits for now 😳💞🐀
cw: quite mild but abstract allusions to a recurring nightmare and associated panic/distress
FREITAG 05:03
David finds consciousness at the bottom of a 50 foot drop, smashing his way into reality.
He always expects to come back into his body thrashing; oozing sweat and muttered delusions. Instead his limbs are lead and his breath sits heavy and uncomfortable in his chest for several minutes before David can force himself upright and out of bed.
The residue of the nightmare settles in his jaw, tensed and aching. He works his mouth open, unhitching his jaw with effort, runs his tongue over his teeth, counting them off. Thirty-two and a half-protruding wisdom tooth on his upper left side. Nothing unnatural.
He downs a glass of chilled water over the kitchen sink, letting it dribble down his chin and neck. Unpleasant and itchy but real, so real. Another glass of water. He counts his teeth, presses his fist into his mouth.
From his bedroom door he watches Matteo’s hand seek out company on the bed, watches him lurch his way toward semi-consciousness when it comes back empty and wanting. His eyes blink open, easily finding David’s attentive gaze in the doorway.
“Watching me sleep?”
“Only time you give me any peace.” He concentrates his energy on quirking his mouth up at the side, drops his weight into the door jamb.
Matteo huffs lightly, unbothered. “Was it the same one?”
David hums a yes. The same dream. Nightmare. Four times this week, three times as many in the last month, an echo of the scene lurking in the shadow behind his eyelids even in the light of day.
Matteo lays his hand palm up on the bed, and David immediately stumbles forward, crawling across the bed into Matteo’s waiting arms. He settles against his chest, ear to Matteo’s heartbeat, forefinger tracking his pulse.
“Give me three minutes in your head and I’ll tame all your monsters,” Matteo murmurs into his hair.
David knows his line. I can fight my own battles, he usually says.
He feels boneless. Like if it weren’t for Matteo’s arms firm around him his body would be a shapeless mass on the floor right now, slipping through the floorboards.
You don’t always have to alone. That’s what Matteo would say next.
He’s pulled back under.
…send me a time of day and i’ll write a davenzi snippet?
