Re: Lakeside night: Seven/Liam
In the way of dreams, Seven didn’t question the shift any more than he questioned the presence of paper stacks that wanted to drown him. He heard the soft lilt of a voice that he knew and it tugged at his gut like a pendulum, swinging between disbelief and the innate comfort of knowing that whatever reality spun out in his dreams could play out without trouble. He turned on his heel and the tunnel-vision expanded until the books seemed to line the inner walls of a warehouse and Liam stood there, hazy enough that Seven couldn’t quite make out his clothes but could at least see the sharp angles of his face.
“Liam.”
The man’s name came out on an exhale and Seven felt the slump that worked though his spine subsequently, starting from the top of his head where he raked his hand through his hair away from his face. He sighed, and he took a step towards him that dislodged a stack of typewriter paper as tall as a mountain so that it sloughed off down a sliding hill of pressed, white cotton.