Lord Voldemort is (ahalfblood) wrote in doorslogs, @ 2013-09-25 16:49:00 |
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Entry tags: | severus snape |
Who: Nicholas & Noah
What: A sleepwalking incident.
Where: Their apartment.
When: Reeeecently.
Warnings/Rating: None?
The bout with insomnia had only lasted a few days until Nicholas found himself able to fall back into a pattern of sleep that at least resembled normalcy. The hours weren't quite normal and he often slept well into the morning when normally he was up, like clockwork, before six every day. But sleep was sleep, and after a nearly week-long bout with spending the nights watching the clock turn, Nicholas wasn't about to complain.
The night before had been normal, as far as Nicholas was concerned. Several emails had been read from colleagues in the field before he said goodnight to Noah and retired to his own room. A few minutes of reading elapsed before he fell asleep, the light still on, and the book resting over his chest. Reading never failed to put him to sleep quickly, particularly when he did so in bed, and that night had been no different from the norm. Sleep came upon him, fast and heavy, and before long he was drifting in that sea of dreams that was still not fully understood by scientists.
Deep in the land of those dreams, Nicholas found himself back in the Crawford house, standing in front of the door in the basement, behind which the room they had found him in when everything had gone wrong. He could feel that there was something behind the door, something dark and foreboding, something that he needed to know and understand, but also something that he needed to run from as quickly as he could. The extreme differences between the two desires left him swaying between them, one hand outstretched to lay upon the door as though it would help him understand the difference between his two choices, as though it would give him some guidance as to what he was supposed to do.
Behind that door, he could hear a voice beckoning to him, calling out to him with a sweet siren's whisper. If he could just open that door, it would be fine. Just another step forward, and all the pain from years ago would dissolve into a sweet bliss. The nightmares could stop, that hole deep inside of him would fill, and things would be fine again in a way they hadn't been for years. "I don't know," Nicholas murmured to the door, swaying between the options, the pull that was so tempting and enticing.
And as he debated in that land of dreams, Nicholas stood on the deck of the apartment he shared with his friend Noah, the mild evening, the wind that whipped through every so often. "I don't know," he mumbled, fingers fumbling at the railing of the deck, bare feet shuffling forward as he stepped up onto the first rung of the railing, pulling himself up. His eyes were closed, quick shifts beneath his eyelids relaying to anyone who saw him what dream state he was in.
As a young boy Noah had experienced his fair share of nightmares, but later into his adult years he couldn’t pinpoint any dreams that stood out beyond the usual. When he had papers to grade or lectures to prepare for he was up late, coffee brewing and music quietly playing in the background, but more often than not he tried to turn in at a decent hour, not one for the nightlife unless it was the occasional drink with a colleague. Lately he’d been worried about Nicholas’ insomnia though, in recent days, that too seemed to have passed, and he was admittedly relieved. With his ability he knew his friend was at risk, more so than most in their line of work, and after the Crawford case a part of him had always feared lasting repercussions that might remain dormant until the right moment.
That night, he couldn’t explain what exactly had awoken him. Maybe it was a feeling, or perhaps an errant sound, but whatever the cause Noah found himself jerking awake without understanding why. The apartment seemed quiet, nothing amiss, but there was a prickle along his spine that made him uncomfortable and wouldn’t let him go back to sleep. He shoved back the covers and slid out of bed, padding out of his room in sweatpants, a t-shirt and bare feet that led him to Nicholas’ room.
His empty room.
Immediately, Noah was concerned. He backed out into the main hallway and began to call for his friend before he caught sight of him outside, on the deck, and while his back was to him he could see quite clearly that the other man was climbing up onto the railing. “No!” He dashed across the room and outside, onto the deck, immediately taking hold of his arm to keep him from going any further. One glance upward told him that he was sleepwalking, and while he knew disturbing him could be disastrous it could also be just as risky to leave him be. His hold was firm and sure, however, keeping him in place without pulling back. “Nicholas,” he said, urgently. “Nicholas, you have to wake up.”
Noah's words and the grab to his arm, firm and sure as it was, didn't translate so cleanly to Nicholas' dream. Everything he needed and wanted was just beyond that door and then someone, something was pulling him back, keeping him from it. A sound of frustration escaped him, loud in the dream and just a little mumble there on the deck. He pulled away from that hand, a futile struggle as the dream started to break up, shattering into pieces as reality started to settle in back around him. Abruptly, the fight went out of him and dark eyes opened just a bit, the city spread out in front of him from the vantage he held on the deck.
The deck. Why was he on the deck?
It was then that things slammed back into place and he felt that hand on his arm, a minor restraint that suddenly felt terrifying. Nicholas jerked back hard, his heart hammering a furious rhythm in his chest as he turned towards the one he was fighting against. For a moment, he didn't recognize Noah, didn't recognize him as his friend, but another hard jerk, his foot slipping down from the railing back to the deck, and Nicholas drew in a hard breath, his eyes widening just a fraction. "Noah?" The name stumbled out, coming on the heels of something that was frightening in a knee-jerk reaction. "Noah? What- why am I-" He didn't finish the sentences, glancing back towards the railing, brown eyes sweeping this way and that swiftly, trying to make heads or tails out of the situation around him. "What happened?" he finally finished, a note of panic threaded through the words.
For one breathless moment they were at odds, Nicholas pulling in one direction and him pulling in the other, and Noah kept repeating his friend’s name, pleading with him to wake up and step back. Finally he seemed to reach him, and he exhaled in relief as the other man jerked back and away from the danger the railing posed. Sleepwalking always posed a risk but it was usually never this extreme, and he couldn’t remember the last time Nicholas had been affected to this degree. “Yes,” he said, his hand still clamped firmly around his arm. “It’s me. Noah.” He tugged, gentler this time, attempting to lead him away from the railing and back into the safety of the apartment. “You were sleepwalking, Nicholas. It’s a good thing I found you when I did.” Concern was etched into his features, brow furrowed as he studied his friend for injuries or the like. He had questions, of course, but he wanted him to calm down first and ease him into figuring out what had occurred between the time he’d fallen asleep and now.
There was no resistance as Noah urged him in the direction of the apartment, off of the deck and into the safety of their apartment. Nicholas did give a look back in the direction of the railing, his brow furrowing in confusion for a moment before the deck door was closed and the sounds of the city beyond were muffled out. The dream and everything that happened with it was starting to slip away, sand between his fingers, leaving Nicholas grasping at the dissolving pieces. He was just sitting on the couch when he began to speak, low-slung words that came out in a hurried pace. "There was a door," he started, his voice thick, gaze searching over the carpet at his feet as though it had more details. "There was a door, and there was someone behind it that wanted to see me." No, Noah hadn't asked for the details yet, but Nicholas knew that if he didn't start talking, didn't start getting it out, the chance of him losing it was greater and greater every moment. "I've seen the door before. I knew the door. But- but I can't remember now."
It was a little easier to breathe once they were inside and a solid door stood between them, the deck, and the railing. Later Noah could think about things like precautions to prevent this from happening again, but now, now was the time to begin getting to the source of this episode. He eased Nicholas onto the couch and took a seat beside him, brow furrowed and attentive as the other man began to speak. “A door,” he repeated, thoughtful. He didn’t need to write the details down, knowing that he could recall them without doing so. “It was familiar. That’s something. What about whoever wanted to see you? Did you feel like you knew this person, or that there was something positive or negative attributed to them?”
Nicholas shifted, lacing his fingers together before letting them relax again, soon turning to wringing his hands as he spoke, hardly conscious of the fact that he was doing it. The door was nearly a crystal clear memory in his head, but whomever was behind the door, that wasn't as clear. His brow furrowed in frustration, finally bringing his hands up to press against his eyes, scrubbing the heels of his hands there. "I don't know who it was. Or what it was." Lips were pressed together in a thin line, fingers digging in against his hairline as he went still for a moment, searching through the fleeting memories for something more concrete. There was a moment of stillness, where he didn't even draw breath, and then his hands fell away from his face and he turned to look at Noah for a long moment. "There was something good on the other side of the door though. Release. Freedom. Something I've been looking for." It sounded almost too good to be true, and that made something in him wary. Nicholas wasn't ignorant about the power of dreams, the things they could hold, but he didn't want to think that there were things in his head that could get him.
Noah was good at calm. He could listen to the most horrific of tales without once faltering, a trait he attributed to his childhood and what had happened with his mother. The more details Nicholas remembered, the more progress they could make, but it was hardly his fault if he could only remember a few aspects of the dream and he could be incredibly patient. Most might have dismissed the dream as nothing, but he knew better than to dismiss something like this. He watched his friend carefully as he sorted through his memories to find something, anything, which might give insight to what had occurred, and he was careful to keep any blatant concern out of his expression. “Release from what, Nick?” He too was wary of whatever was behind that door, and he doubted that it was truly anything good or helpful. “What kind of freedom?” Maybe the sleepwalking was coincidental, a side effect popping back up again. But then again, opening the door in his dream would have very likely resulted in his death in reality, and he didn’t like that. Death, to some, could be seen as a release, as freedom, or perhaps that had just been a lure.
Noah was likely the only person in the world that could get away with calling him Nick instead of Nicholas, and the use of that rare nickname eased some of the tension that had worked its way into his shoulders. A swipe of his tongue over lips that had gone bone-dry and Nicholas slumped back against the couch, a long sigh escaping him. Bits and pieces, scraps of the dream, and as things started to come back a little better now that he was actively trying to hold onto him, Nicholas could feel something heavy forming in his stomach. "There was a voice," he started, speaking slowly and carefully. "And it was promising me that it could make everything better. That it could…" And here, Nicholas paused, a breath drawn in and held for a three-count, his brows knitting together in an expression that bordered on fear. "That it could make everything from before go away. Make it better again. Like it used to be." He released that breath hard, rising up to his feet in a single motion, hands coming up to press into dark, sleep-mussed hair. In the years since that case, Nicholas had become an expert at Not Talking About It. It was all locked away where it couldn't hurt, but it leaked out sometimes, just as harsh as it had been when it was all fresh. "It's just a dream, right? Nothing else?" he asked, whether to himself or to Noah it was hard to tell. Fast paced steps, a turn, another step, and he was back in front of the deck door, staring out into the desert sky, a light-headed feeling coming over him. "Right?" he echoed, hope strung into the word.
The mention of a voice made his frown deepen, and the unease stirring in his stomach only became worse. It burned like acid, something he couldn’t ignore, though he didn’t want Nicholas to panic any more than he already had. “I see,” Noah said, slowly. Preying on his vulnerabilities. It was almost too predictable, but then again it might have just been a dream, Nicholas’ long-buried fears rising to the surface, and nothing more. “It might very well be just a dream,” he assured him. “We shouldn’t make assumptions.” He got to his feet as Nicholas paced his way to the door, a few steps behind him, wanting to give him space without being too distant. “Whatever it is, we’ll get to the bottom of it.”
Nicholas didn't say anything for a long while, still too tense from all that had happened to take any real comfort in Noah's words. Instead, he wound his arms around himself, fingers digging in where they rested, and he stared out the window. Noah was a comfortable presence behind him somewhere, one that he trusted, but the worries were still there. "Of course we will," he said after a moment, his brow furrowed down slightly. "Let's hope it was just a dream." And he wanted to believe that it was nothing more than that, old fears coming up to remind him that they were still there, manifesting with the strange stress the doors provided them all as a 'Welcome to Las Vegas' gift basket. "Let's make sure the doors are locked. Just in case it happens again." He licked his lips, wetting them once more, then turned to look towards Noah, forcing a small smile to his lips. "And then some more sleep. You look like you need it more than I do right now."
Noah had already begun to mentally run through all the ways in which he could secure the apartment in case of further incidents, and Nicholas’ suggestion pulled him out of his thoughts and back to the present. “Yes,” he agreed. “Doors and windows, just as a precaution.” He attempted a reassuring smile once the other man looked his way, which managed to widen at the mention of further sleep. “I’m fine. You’re the one who needs his sleep,” he remarked, shaking his head. After ensuring that the deck door was indeed locked, he gently ushered his friend back to bed.