Post by Israfil on Feb 1, 2018 22:19:08 GMT -5
Not sure when this scene will happen but it's a potential plotline for a Geoff story. Plus the dreamscape makes for a fun set-up where the pesky laws of reality don't have to get in the way.
How oft on yonder grave, Sweetheart / Where we were wont to walk
The fairest flower that I e’re saw / Has withered to a stalk.
When will we meet again, sweetheart? / When will we meet again?
When the autumn leaves that fall from the trees
Are green and spring up again,
-“The Unquiet Grave”
English folk song
He knew where he was. But he also knew why he couldn’t be here. This place no longer existed except in his dreams, which meant-
Ah.
Equal parts relief and disappointment, he began to examine his surroundings more closely. Of course he could never return to this house and even if he could it wouldn’t have mattered… But tonight it did, apparently. A watch on the bedside table told him that its owner was home. He never left the house without it.
How much of this would he remember in the morning? Now that he knew it was a dream it could come apart any second, shift into a nightmare or simply cause him to wake up but none of that mattered right now. For tonight he was back and maybe, just maybe he could lose himself in this memory - just for a little while.
Taking a deep breath, Geoff stepped forward and stepped out the bedroom door.
“Finally. Was about to come wake you.”
A familiar and welcome sight greeted him from the stairs. Red hair, green eyes and pale skin that made his stubble look more like a beard than it was, Damien smiled as he reached the top of the stairs and leaned against the wall with a smirk. Geoff smiled.
“Morning, Dame.”
His boyfriend sauntered back down the stairs, a faded T-shirt and long pajama pants looking unbelievably sexy on him. “Morning to you too, sleepyhead,” he replied over his shoulder. “Come on, coffee’s ready.”
“One sec, just let me brush my teeth,” he heard himself say, causing Damien to shake his head and roll his eyes.
“You already did. You tried to get up like an hour ago but just got back into bed. Now get a move on before the house burns down again.”
“Yes, dear,” Geoff deferred with a smile. Wait...burn down again? He shook his head and descended to the kitchen.
Damien handed him a mug. Geoff took a sip to find it was just the way he liked it. “This is delicious.”
“I know, right? Insurance payouts let us replace most of our stuff but we got to do a few upgrades here and there. Like the Keurig.”
The mug froze halfway to his lips. “Insurance?”
“Yeah,” Damien sipped his own coffee, seemingly untroubled. “Honestly, you might have done us a favor burning this place down,” he commented with a laugh.
The mug fell from his limp hands and smashed on the breakfast counter.
“Dude, you okay?” Damien spun around, tearing off a paper towel to mop up the coffee. “Grab a paper bag from-”
“This...never happened. This is a dream.” He had known this, hadn’t he? Realizing it all over again was worse than cold water to the face. Damien looked up at him curiously.
“Um, yeah. I thought you knew, right? You gonna get that bag?”
“Oh...right. Right.” Caught up in the surrealism of the moment, Geoff rose from his stool at the breakfast counter and took a paper bag from the recycling bin behind him. He held it out while Damien swept the broken mug off the countertop. Out of habit, Geoff handed him another paper towel.
“Thanks.”
“So I’m dreaming. I guess I forgot. It felt so real. It felt...good.”
Damien smiled at him. “Maybe because it is. For all intents and purposes.” He took the bag from Geoff and tossed it in the trash along with the wet paper towels.
“What do you mean ‘for all intents and purposes’? This is all in my head.” You’re dead, he wanted to add but couldn’t bring himself to say the words aloud.
“So? Doesn’t mean it isn’t real.”
“Actually, it does. That’s kind of the definition of a dream.”
Damien smiled. “And if you were never to wake up, would it matter?”
The words sent a chill down Geoff’s spine. “Theoretically, I suppose. Somehow I don’t think that’s an option though.”
“It might be,” Damien replied airily. “Really depends on how you feel by the time we’ve made all our stops tonight.”
“Alright, I think that’s enough.” Geoff leaned forward to steal a quick kiss. He had no intention of leaving without at least one of those. “I miss you everyday and I will always love you, Dame. But you’re not real. You’re a figment of my imagination from my subconscious trying to fuck with me. Damien is dead. I-” his throat seemed to close up briefly but he forced himself on. “I killed him and I burned this house to ground.” He had been right, the words were hard to say. He could feel a lump forming in his throat but it was the best way to break out of this dream, which had taken a decided turn for the strange.
He blinked, expecting to open his eyes in his dorm room. Nothing had changed. He still stood in the kitchen with his hands on Damien’s shoulders. The image of his lover smiled at him sadly and shook its head.
“Yes. Yes, you did. Maybe I am all that. Maybe I’m real. Maybe I’m both. But you’re not getting out of here just yet. I told you - we have stops to make.”
Geoff released him and backed away. “What do you want from me?” he growled. Damien took his hand in both of his.
“There are things you need to see.”
****
“Geoff, get the fuck up. It’s past ten - you don’t get to stay in bed all day.” Vergil strode into the room and flung open the curtains, turning around as late morning light cascaded into the room. He realized something was wrong when the recumbent form didn’t groan and retreat further under the covers, instead remaining almost deathly still. Shrugging it aside, he raised his voice. “Geoff? Come on,” Vergil shook his friend’s shoulder. “Jesus, how much did you drink last night?” No response. “Geoff!”
****
“There’s someone who wants to meet you,” Damien explained. “He’ll be here soon so you might want to get dressed. You know where your clothes are - third drawer from the top on the right.”
“Who is it?” Geoff asked with more than a little trepidation. In this strange dreamscape his visitor could be literally anyone and his mind was already supplying some very disturbing possibilities.
Damien sighed. “You’re about to find out. Now hurry up and get ready.”
“Thanks for that,” Geoff replied as he turned towards the stairs. “I needed another reminder you weren’t real. Damien wasn’t that much of a cryptic asshat,” he added over his shoulder.
His boyfriend’s doppelganger merely shrugged and smiled. “Well, I have had some life changes,” he called after him.
“He didn’t make lame jokes like that either,” Geoff growled under his breath.
The clothes were comfortable and familiar, yet vague. More a representation of something he would likely wear than any particular item of clothing he owned. He hadn’t given any thought to what he was expecting, but if asked it would have been a generic blank t-shirt and pants. Probably white, black or grey - that’s what people usually wore in these weird dream visions, right? Instead, the shirt was red with some kind of logo in black, and dark blue jeans. Guess my subconscious wasn’t feeling the faded look today, he thought.
His outfit aside, the foggy, unstable quality that dreams always had was conspicuously absent. In fact, it was feeling more real by the second, the room coming into focus, his body becoming more physically grounded.
This shouldn’t be happening, Geoff realized. It was too real. He was even aware of his heart beating faster in his chest as he became more alarmed. “This isn’t real,” he reminded himself aloud but the mantra sounded weak even to his own ears. Damien’s comments about reality suddenly came back to him in a more threatening light. Especially the last part about never waking up...
On impulse Geoff smacked his hand against the door frame hoping to break out of this, what? Dream? Hallucination? A sharp pain lanced up his knuckles but he still stood in the door to his boyfriend’s bedroom. If anything, it made things worse. In a not quite sane way, Geoff suspected the more real this place became, the less likely it was he could leave.
With a snarl he descended the stairs, intending to get some answers out of Damien when the house shook, almost knocking him off his feet. Catching himself on the banister, Geoff heard what sounded like massive sails buffeting in the wind. Recognizing the sound for what it was, his heart sank as it drew nearer. It could only be the visitor Damien had mentioned.
Wing beats.
How oft on yonder grave, Sweetheart / Where we were wont to walk
The fairest flower that I e’re saw / Has withered to a stalk.
When will we meet again, sweetheart? / When will we meet again?
When the autumn leaves that fall from the trees
Are green and spring up again,
-“The Unquiet Grave”
English folk song
He knew where he was. But he also knew why he couldn’t be here. This place no longer existed except in his dreams, which meant-
Ah.
Equal parts relief and disappointment, he began to examine his surroundings more closely. Of course he could never return to this house and even if he could it wouldn’t have mattered… But tonight it did, apparently. A watch on the bedside table told him that its owner was home. He never left the house without it.
How much of this would he remember in the morning? Now that he knew it was a dream it could come apart any second, shift into a nightmare or simply cause him to wake up but none of that mattered right now. For tonight he was back and maybe, just maybe he could lose himself in this memory - just for a little while.
Taking a deep breath, Geoff stepped forward and stepped out the bedroom door.
“Finally. Was about to come wake you.”
A familiar and welcome sight greeted him from the stairs. Red hair, green eyes and pale skin that made his stubble look more like a beard than it was, Damien smiled as he reached the top of the stairs and leaned against the wall with a smirk. Geoff smiled.
“Morning, Dame.”
His boyfriend sauntered back down the stairs, a faded T-shirt and long pajama pants looking unbelievably sexy on him. “Morning to you too, sleepyhead,” he replied over his shoulder. “Come on, coffee’s ready.”
“One sec, just let me brush my teeth,” he heard himself say, causing Damien to shake his head and roll his eyes.
“You already did. You tried to get up like an hour ago but just got back into bed. Now get a move on before the house burns down again.”
“Yes, dear,” Geoff deferred with a smile. Wait...burn down again? He shook his head and descended to the kitchen.
Damien handed him a mug. Geoff took a sip to find it was just the way he liked it. “This is delicious.”
“I know, right? Insurance payouts let us replace most of our stuff but we got to do a few upgrades here and there. Like the Keurig.”
The mug froze halfway to his lips. “Insurance?”
“Yeah,” Damien sipped his own coffee, seemingly untroubled. “Honestly, you might have done us a favor burning this place down,” he commented with a laugh.
The mug fell from his limp hands and smashed on the breakfast counter.
“Dude, you okay?” Damien spun around, tearing off a paper towel to mop up the coffee. “Grab a paper bag from-”
“This...never happened. This is a dream.” He had known this, hadn’t he? Realizing it all over again was worse than cold water to the face. Damien looked up at him curiously.
“Um, yeah. I thought you knew, right? You gonna get that bag?”
“Oh...right. Right.” Caught up in the surrealism of the moment, Geoff rose from his stool at the breakfast counter and took a paper bag from the recycling bin behind him. He held it out while Damien swept the broken mug off the countertop. Out of habit, Geoff handed him another paper towel.
“Thanks.”
“So I’m dreaming. I guess I forgot. It felt so real. It felt...good.”
Damien smiled at him. “Maybe because it is. For all intents and purposes.” He took the bag from Geoff and tossed it in the trash along with the wet paper towels.
“What do you mean ‘for all intents and purposes’? This is all in my head.” You’re dead, he wanted to add but couldn’t bring himself to say the words aloud.
“So? Doesn’t mean it isn’t real.”
“Actually, it does. That’s kind of the definition of a dream.”
Damien smiled. “And if you were never to wake up, would it matter?”
The words sent a chill down Geoff’s spine. “Theoretically, I suppose. Somehow I don’t think that’s an option though.”
“It might be,” Damien replied airily. “Really depends on how you feel by the time we’ve made all our stops tonight.”
“Alright, I think that’s enough.” Geoff leaned forward to steal a quick kiss. He had no intention of leaving without at least one of those. “I miss you everyday and I will always love you, Dame. But you’re not real. You’re a figment of my imagination from my subconscious trying to fuck with me. Damien is dead. I-” his throat seemed to close up briefly but he forced himself on. “I killed him and I burned this house to ground.” He had been right, the words were hard to say. He could feel a lump forming in his throat but it was the best way to break out of this dream, which had taken a decided turn for the strange.
He blinked, expecting to open his eyes in his dorm room. Nothing had changed. He still stood in the kitchen with his hands on Damien’s shoulders. The image of his lover smiled at him sadly and shook its head.
“Yes. Yes, you did. Maybe I am all that. Maybe I’m real. Maybe I’m both. But you’re not getting out of here just yet. I told you - we have stops to make.”
Geoff released him and backed away. “What do you want from me?” he growled. Damien took his hand in both of his.
“There are things you need to see.”
****
“Geoff, get the fuck up. It’s past ten - you don’t get to stay in bed all day.” Vergil strode into the room and flung open the curtains, turning around as late morning light cascaded into the room. He realized something was wrong when the recumbent form didn’t groan and retreat further under the covers, instead remaining almost deathly still. Shrugging it aside, he raised his voice. “Geoff? Come on,” Vergil shook his friend’s shoulder. “Jesus, how much did you drink last night?” No response. “Geoff!”
****
“There’s someone who wants to meet you,” Damien explained. “He’ll be here soon so you might want to get dressed. You know where your clothes are - third drawer from the top on the right.”
“Who is it?” Geoff asked with more than a little trepidation. In this strange dreamscape his visitor could be literally anyone and his mind was already supplying some very disturbing possibilities.
Damien sighed. “You’re about to find out. Now hurry up and get ready.”
“Thanks for that,” Geoff replied as he turned towards the stairs. “I needed another reminder you weren’t real. Damien wasn’t that much of a cryptic asshat,” he added over his shoulder.
His boyfriend’s doppelganger merely shrugged and smiled. “Well, I have had some life changes,” he called after him.
“He didn’t make lame jokes like that either,” Geoff growled under his breath.
The clothes were comfortable and familiar, yet vague. More a representation of something he would likely wear than any particular item of clothing he owned. He hadn’t given any thought to what he was expecting, but if asked it would have been a generic blank t-shirt and pants. Probably white, black or grey - that’s what people usually wore in these weird dream visions, right? Instead, the shirt was red with some kind of logo in black, and dark blue jeans. Guess my subconscious wasn’t feeling the faded look today, he thought.
His outfit aside, the foggy, unstable quality that dreams always had was conspicuously absent. In fact, it was feeling more real by the second, the room coming into focus, his body becoming more physically grounded.
This shouldn’t be happening, Geoff realized. It was too real. He was even aware of his heart beating faster in his chest as he became more alarmed. “This isn’t real,” he reminded himself aloud but the mantra sounded weak even to his own ears. Damien’s comments about reality suddenly came back to him in a more threatening light. Especially the last part about never waking up...
On impulse Geoff smacked his hand against the door frame hoping to break out of this, what? Dream? Hallucination? A sharp pain lanced up his knuckles but he still stood in the door to his boyfriend’s bedroom. If anything, it made things worse. In a not quite sane way, Geoff suspected the more real this place became, the less likely it was he could leave.
With a snarl he descended the stairs, intending to get some answers out of Damien when the house shook, almost knocking him off his feet. Catching himself on the banister, Geoff heard what sounded like massive sails buffeting in the wind. Recognizing the sound for what it was, his heart sank as it drew nearer. It could only be the visitor Damien had mentioned.
Wing beats.