InsaneJournal

Who: Charlie & Theo
What: Another bout of somnambulism
Where: The streets near Wingbeat
When: Late Saturday night
Rating: R - language, mentions of bad things



Things hadn't been going too badly for Theo lately, so he was due for a setback. He'd moved out of the hovel he'd been in before to take over the room offered to him by Milly, looking after his friend's house while she was away, and that alone had helped him feel a lot more settled. He'd been unsettled with the situation with Greg and the idea of anything happening to his friend in the same way that something had happened to him had made him sick to his stomach and had probably kick started his latest bout of insomnia. His paranoia had been higher than usual, although he hadn't realised it. He hadn't been able to sleep very, well too keyed up to relax and plagued with shapes and shadows that moved in the corner of his eye but weren't there when he turned to look, voices that spoke to him nonsensically that stil managed to make him feel threatened.

He'd been up for three days by the time his body finally called it quits and he more collapsed down and lapsed into unconsciousness than fell asleep. It wasn't a restful disappearance from the conscious world at all though and he was up and walking around in a bout of somnambulism like he hadn't had since the previous year. It led him to wander around Milly's house, mercifully avoiding tumbling headlong down the stairs, and out into the night dressed in soft black pyjama bottoms, a heather grey hoodie and nothing else, his feet bare against the floor and bleeding by the time he'd made it from Milly's into town. He wandered like he was high or drunk, bumping into objects and rebounding off them from time to time, his tearing feet leaving little footstamps of blood in his wake.

There was no rhyme or reason behind his sleeping decision to make his way towards Charlie's club, unless his sleepwalking worked on some weird remembrance of the last place he'd Apparated to. It hardly mattered where he was physically though, as in his mind he wandered through the halls and corridors and rooms of the Nott House, made even more monstrous and dark in his dreams as they had been in reality, looking over his shoulder in utter sweat-soaked terror for the man who had tyrannized him in childhood and could strip him of any feeling of security even now. Even as he stumbled down the nearly empty street towards the club he still looked over his shoulder like he was being pursued.