Page 95 of Love Bleeds
When he closed his eyes, time ceased to exist once more.
Sometimes, when reality fell away, he didn't go to the basement.
Sometimes there was nothing.
The nothingness was more terrifying, because it wasn't where he was supposed to be. And he never knew when or how he would find his way back to where he needed to be.
But the nothingness also allowed him to take a stroll through his own mind, where it wasn't touched by paranoia or fear or hunger. It allowed him to examine his new memories. No, new wasn't the right word. These were old memories, but newly remembered.
His favorite memory was the one where he and Luke were out by the lake in the hills outside of town. Neither of them was a big fan of camping--especially in places without Wi-Fi--but there were supposed to be meteor showers that night, so Crimson... no, he'd been Damian back then... Damian had borrowed his brother's camping gear and asked Luke if he wanted to come along to somewhere with less light pollution.
They'd laid out a blanket in front of the tent so they could sit comfortably. It was a good thing it was a summer's night, because neither of them really knew how to build a fire. They'd looked up at the sky and talked about the stars and the universe and everything in it, waiting for the showers to start.
He remembered mentioning how meteors were really just space dirt, when it came down to it, and Luke had given him this look and remarked how that wasn't very romantic. As if he'd wanted it to be romantic. Damian hadn't known what to say after that, so he'd said nothing, just stared up at the stars with his heart beating with the ferocity of a supernova in his chest.
And then the first meteor had streaked across the sky, leaving a shiny tail in its wake. After that one, it didn't take long for more and more of them to paint the sky. Luke had pointed up in amazement and Damian had grinned at him while silently making a wish on a thousand shooting stars.
A wish that was still alive in Crimson to this day, that kept him going in spite of everything.
That made him open his eyes the moment he heard Luke's voice.
Luke was here.
And Crimson wasn't in the nothingness anymore. He was in Aldrich's apartment, on his bed, looking at his reason for staying alive.
But how could Luke be here?
Was he another illusion?
No, he couldn't be. Crimson didn't trust his own mind on a lot of things anymore, but he trusted his ability to recognize the boy he loved more than he ever thought it was possible to love anyone.
Luke sat in the chair where Aldrich usually sat. He was saying something, though Crimson wasn't sure what. He heard Luke's voice as sort of melody--a nice melody--but he had no way to discern individual words. He didn't have to understand Luke's words to understand that he was sad, though. It was all in the way he looked at Crimson, like he was torn between crying and holding it all in the way he thought a grown-up should.
If Crimson's left arm hadn't been chained to the bed, he would have tried to get up to pull Luke into his embrace to let him cry it out, whatever it was. Honestly, though, he wasn't sure he would have had the strength, even if he'd been free.
Luke turned to look at someone else--Aldrich?--and he said something that sounded angry.
His Luke was a lot angrier these days than he used to be.
Crimson didn't blame him. Luke had a lot to be angry about these days.
But still, he wished they could go back to that day on the lake, when everything had seemed so simple and the future full of hope.
And wasn't that what they needed to hold on to now? Hope?
He wanted to communicate that to Luke, he wanted to tell him not to give up hope, but the path from his brain to his mouth was long and full of road blocks. So, eventually, what he said was, "There's always space dirt."
Luke blinked, confusion painted across his features. His mouth opened. Crimson focused all his energy on what he was saying. It was a single word. A question. "Meteors?"
Crimson smiled. Luke remembered. Everything would be fine as long as he remembered space dirt.
"What do you...?" Luke trailed off. "You remembered?"
"Made a wish," Crimson said, keeping his sentence as short as possible. Maybe if he used fewer words, there would be fewer errors, if he got them out quickly enough. Before he could lose his thoughts. Before he could drop back into the nothingness, or into the basement. "Wished I could tell you one day."
Luke leaned closer. "Tell me what?"
For a second there, Crimson had no idea what Luke was asking, because his teeth itched so badly it was all he could focus on. His fangs extended, yearning to draw blood. "Too close," he warned. Luke was too close, and Crimson too hungry. If he got a chance to bite, he would. Luke smelled too good, and his pulse was too loud in Crimson's ears. The sound of Luke's heart pumping all of that sweet, sweet blood through his veins. Suddenly it was all Crimson could hear.
