He's having another nightmare, I can hear it down the hall from my own room. This is the third one this week. What were they about? His scream echoed down the hall from me, the curtains to my room billowing out with the sea breeze. His screams made me terrified. The pad in my lap slid onto the bed, as his scream rang in my ears. My name is Ella Maria Watts. I’m Sixteen. His name is Vanitas Utsukushi. He is eighteen.
We both live in Meister’s castle, a long way from any living civilization. He had saved me a mwezi ago, after a certain keyblade-related “Accident.” He had healed me, trained me, and he had taken care of me. He taught me how to use the darkness sleeping in my heart, how to control it, how to become one with my keyblade, and he taught me the real meaning of fighting. He’s not good at cooking, he’s better at me with fighting. We both tease each other endlessly. He has a bad habit of smoking, and I have a bad habit of cursing. We both grew to be best of friends. But there was one thing I was worried about.
Every night, ever since the nightmares attacked him almost three weeks ago, he had nightmares. He would wake up screaming for ever one he had, and he would never tell me anything. He would only look at me with such a sad look that it was almost like he was choosing my casket already.
This one must be bad. He wasn’t waking up after a few screams. His screaming echoed into my room, making the candle beside me flicker. The scream was nothing like your ordinary scream. It gave wewe bad picha of death, pain. His scream. I watched the darkness in the hallway replay every scream in HD, every sob of pain, every yell and every word. The crashing waves so far below my windows made little effort to mask the pain every scream held. I drew my legs up to my chest, hugging them as close and as tight as I could. My hair masked my face, almost as terrified as the screams. Another scream, then a soft sob of pain. I looked up, and another scream ran into my room. The candle flickered. I tensed. The curtains billowed out, silently and gently. Shimmering fabrics made picha of happy days, strawberry fields with happy children. The darker side revealed a burning city. Another terrifying scream, then the words that gave me cold chills: “Don’t hurt her!” That was Vanitas. What is he dreaming about?
I had to stop this.
I slipped over my silky blanket, the pen and ink drawing sliding to the floor,. An unfinished drawing of Vanitas himself in the fountain, asleep and recovering from the nightmare attack. My pen and ink bill scattered, spinning over my floor and underneath my bed. My feet hit the floor, the cold surface chilling the heat. My finger linked with the tiny Candle holder, as another scream echoed off the walls. I took a step towards my door, stepping onto the stone hallway. Silence. Is he awake? Did he sink into a blissful dream? No. The scream, the bloodcurdling scream that made the hairs on my arms stand up. There was only one dream he told me about, that I was in. It was about when the nightmares attacked, he had a similar dream that instead they had killed me. He woke up crying to that. I took one step for the door, and another sentence made me stop: ” Don’t kill her! Please!” He sounded so afraid. I peered out, at the golden double doors. A breeze came in, that made the flame on my poor little candle flicker and turn off. The darkness set in. “Please!” He pleaded with an imaginary something, only seen kwa him, only heard kwa him. I rummaged around my shorts pocket, looking for something to revive my candle. He continued pleading, a new urge of panic setting in. I found the same matchbook, one I kept on me in case Vanitas needed a flame for his unhealthy habit. I wrapped my fingers around it, as I stared at the smoking wick. Another terrified scream. This is bad. He should have woken up now. I shakily pulled out the thin matchbook, flipping it open to the last three matches. I yanked on one, a breeze coming in, stirring up my progress. The match came out, and flipped from my hand. I groaned in complaint as it sailed into the unknown. I started on the second, and his sob made my moyo dance with fear and sadness. It came free, fortunately still in my hand, and I struck it against the wall, starting a bright blaze. The candle was soon glowing with light, and I tossed the match out the window. The open-aired hallway always brought in a breeze, fresh and clean. It kept out the cold and kept in the warmth. Miraculously, it always stayed the perfect temperature here. I covered the flame with my hand. I hated the brightness, and I hated the light. I needed to keep this light alive. I started for his bedroom, my hand keeping the little flame from dying. I stopped just short of breaking contact with the door, as another bloodcurdling scream made my pulse throb. “Stop it!” He screamed, and his scream silenced into a chorus of sobs, sad and angry. I shakily reached for the door. I came in contact with the cold metal, and frost formed under my fingertips. I shivered as the cold bit into my flesh. His sob turned into a full-raging scream, terrified. My hand slid to the handle, the doorknob creating an artwork of pulsating, thriving crystals. My fingers turned the knob, the clean click splicing the scream. I opened the door, slowly. Darkness welcomed me. I waited for my vision to adjust as I listened to his quiet sobs of pain. His bedroom. The first thing I saw was his floor, covered in clothes, papers, and unused rolls of gauze. I looked in further. The walls were neat, and clean. Pictures lined the wall, picha of death and one of a happy paining. zaidi light. A desk, with his laptop propped open on it, blinking blue and green. The power cord lay coiled beside it, waiting patiently to be used. His IPod, dead and useless, lay beside his computer. vitabu lined the desk, orderly and neatly, labeled in Japanese. Bookshelves lined his room, except for two open windows propped up beside his bed. His dresser was neat, at last. His kitanda was a mess, and my moyo thumped. There he was. He was restless, tense. His eyes were clenched. He took heavy breaths from his mouth, then he inhaled sharply. He screamed again. He clamped his hands over his ears, turning to one side, and curling into a ball. His blanket lay in disarray beside his feet, and on the floor. Unusable and forgotten. I took a step into his room, and he called out. “Don’t hurt her!” He turned violently on his back, his teeth clenched in his jaw. He tensed, and then he screamed again. I never heard him scream before. It was a new experience. I took a few steps towards his bed, the candle casting long snaking shadows on the floor. The room smelled of sweat and fear. I stepped beside the desk, setting the candle gently on a book. The candle flickered as I stood in front of the desk. He was so afraid, every muscle ready to attack. I took three steps for his bed, stopping directly right in front of it. I crossed my arms as he inhaled, screaming once again. He can’t wake up, but I can wake him up. I crawled onto the bed, the soft covers bending under my hands. I made my way towards him, and he stopped screaming, sobbing instead. A tear ran down his cheek. I stopped directly over him. “Vanitas.” He tensed. “No..” he sobbed out. “Please, No…” I set my hand on his cheek, and he tensed. My fingers traced the hollow of his cheek, and his eyes snapped open. He yelled. He closed his eyes again. “Vanitas, It’s okay…” He opened his eyes, looking around, gasping for breath. His yellow eyes, bright unsettling eyes. Golden eyes. He looked in my eyes, and another tear made a path down his face. Sweat clung to his skin like water does to a buibui web. “E-Ella…” he whispered. My fingers played with his cheek, then found it’s way into his hair. “You were screaming, and…you scared me…” I said, my voice so calm after his own screams. He nodded, and another tear fell onto the mto under his head. He suddenly sat up, and I sat up with him. I sat between his legs as he took a hard breath. He shook violently, shakily. I placed my hand over his chest. One, two, three. Fast and hard against my fingertips. He inhaled sharply, swallowing, holding back another scream. Instead, he let it out as a sob. “What happened to make wewe like this?” He looked up at me. He suddenly made for the side, and heaved over the side of his bed, taking hard, even breaths. “Vanitas…” He shook, wiping his nondo with the back of his hand. He sat up, looking at me, and another tear made it’s way down his cheek. “Oh my god,” I placed my hand over his forehead. “You’re burning. What the hell happened?” A pack of cigarettes was lying in the middle of his stomach mess, open and missing three cigarettes. “T-the dream is better without wewe knowing it.” he whispered, his voice shaking. He reached for me, and his finger ran along one of my curls in my hair. zaidi tears, slowly and steadily. I nodded. “All right,” He smiled, his hand stopping on my cheek. “As long as wewe are all right, right?” He nodded. “I’m fine now.” His voice was hoarse with the screaming, and I shook. “You terrified me, wewe know., screaming and sobbing. wewe scared the hell out of me.” He smiled, a shaky smile. Another tear welled up in the corners of his eyes, and I wiped it away before any zaidi could fall. The candle flickered in the corner. ”I’m sorry.” He alisema at last. I nodded, and I started to get out of his bed, but he grabbed hand softly. I stopped. “No…Please. Don’t leave me.” I looked at him. His face had a look of fear. “I don’t think I want to be alone anymore.” I smiled, settling down again on the bed. “All right. I wont leave.” He smiled, relieved. He let go of my hand and he plopped against his bed. He sighed, then he looked at me. He smiled, a tired smile. “Don’t leave, please. Stay in here with me until morning.” I took a look at his clock. It was only one in the morning. “I promise.” His smile grew. He reached up, his fingers running through my hair beside my cheek. His fingers shook with every motion. He was greatly impacted with the dream, whatever it may be. “My moyo wont stop thumping against my chest.” he whispered. He tapped his chest to the beat of his heart, fast paced and as quick as a jack rabbits. “That’s not good.” He smiled. I leaned to his chest, pressing my ear over his heat. Beat, beat, beat, beat. Four beats within one second. “That isn’t good at all. He ran his hand through my hair, my head rising and falling with every breath he took. I placed my hand on his chest, watching it rise. I felt tired all of a sudden, and Vanitas was still shaking. His hand lifted from my head, shaking dangerously. I twisted my fingers with his, resting on the bed. I closed my eyes, my heartbeat soon matching his own. “Goodnight.” He whispered. “Goodnight.” I alisema back, before falling asleep warm against his chest.