Who: Sage and Marsh Where: Marsh’s House When: Late night, Wednesday, July 18th Status: Complete
The house was dark. Suffocatingly dark. Sage could feel his chest heaving with every breath, fear vibrating through every cell of his body. He gripped the machete tight as he walked the halls, his footsteps light so as not to make a sound. Outside, a storm raged, whipping the wind against the windows, drowning out any other sound. Lightning cracked across the sky, briefly lighting up his path. He stood before Austin’s door. With trembling hands, he pushed it open. His friend lay splayed across the bed, sleeping soundly through the storm. Sage moved closer, just another shadow in the dark. When thunder roared again, his arm rose, then fell, coming down upon his friend before he could understand what was happening.
Sage began to scream. He could feel it, the burning in his throat, but he couldn’t hear it. All he could hear was the storm, raging wilder as his feet carried him to Foster’s room just down the hall. He moved on autopilot, unable to stop himself regardless of his internal struggle. Foster opened the door before he did, stood there looking at him in shock as Sage plunged the machete into his stomach. It made the first kill seem clean. Blood went everywhere and Sage struggled to pull the blade back out, to finally slice him across his throat and stop him from screaming. In the dream, he laughed, a dark wicked sound, but Sage could feel his throat becoming raw with terror.
His own room was last, its occupant sitting up in bed, the blankets pooled around his waist as Sage pushed the door open. Marsh looked back at him with wide eyes, the expression unfamiliar and altogether wrong. Sage stalked closer, blood dripping down his fingers as a maniacal grin spread across his face. “How do I taste now?” he asked before swinging the machete down upon Marsh, hitting his hands and arms as he tried to fend Sage off. Sage kept swinging, kept screaming, unable to stop himself as the dream stole his sanity. Reality never seemed so far away.
Marsh was in a dream of his own, a pleasant one too where he was swimming in rich flavor, tasting it not just with his tongue but his whole body. It was like if swimming in the northern lights was possible, only the colors were all rich and deep shapes of red. It was beautiful and he was probably smacking his mouth a little in his sleep before he got violently awakened by the screaming and thrashing body next to him. His first thought, for some reason, was that they were camping and getting attacked by a bear, for a split second the dream dragged him down that road with some pretty impossible imagery and random people involved, but then he was back in his bedroom, bolting upright and looking over at Sage frantically.
The taste was still on his tongue and he realized it was Sage's emotions, some forms of fear but mixed in with it was something else and he didn't really have the time or wherewithal to figure out what the hell it was.
"Sage," he said urgently, his concern overriding all the panic he felt himself and washing away the remnants of his ethereal dream. He scooted close again and gently patted Sage's arm. "Wake up, Sage, you're having a nightmare, you're okay."
There was a weird overlay in Sage’s dream, where Marsh was screaming and bleeding, but somehow speaking calmly, telling him something important. It didn’t make any sense; the words coming out of his mouth didn’t match up with the sounds and the actions. One second he was on his bed, the sheets sticky with Marsh’s blood, then next he was thrashing around in Marsh’s bed, no longer trying to hack him to pieces, but trying to ground himself. “Fuck! Fuck!” he shouted, his hands moving frantically over Marsh’s arms and chest, looking for wounds in the darkness. His brain couldn’t keep up with the sudden shift, Marsh’s words slow to register. “I’m sorry! I don’t—I don’t know why—what—!” He could barely catch his breath and he clung to Marsh, trembling as reality crashed into him. It was just a dream.
"Breathe," Marsh murmured soothingly, first letting Sage feel him all over before wrapping his arms around him. He felt cool and damp with sweat and Marsh wanted to drag him into a hot bath and make him feel better. Maybe when Sage was more awake, they'd need to let the sheets dry and cool or change them, he was sure. "You're okay, you're safe," he said mostly to say something in order to reach Sage and hopefully calm him down a little. They hadn't been together so long that he thought he was the perfect anchor for Sage when he needed one, but he wanted to be and he was willing to do the work. "You had a bad dream."
“You’re safe,” Sage echoed, able to believe it because he could feel it. Marsh was whole in his arms, alive and well, even while his brain struggled to accept it. His breathing remained heavy, his hands continued to tremble, and Sage looked around the room for signs of the massacre that he’d just seen occur. Nothing was there, of course, because he was in Marsh’s house, not Austin’s. Marsh had never even seen his bedroom there, let alone slept with him there, yet… “Are you sure?” he asked, wide eyes turning up to Marsh’s, the terror still so fresh that he couldn’t shake it. “I need to call them. Make sure they’re okay. Make sure I didn’t— I didn’t—“ He couldn’t bring himself to say it, as if that might make it true.
"Just a dream," Marsh reminded him and maybe hearing it more often would make it easier to believe. "Whatever you saw, it wasn't real." He'd left a small light on, a habit he'd gotten into with Sage there, nothing too strong but enough that he could see the sheere terror on Sage's face. He didn't need to though, he could taste it coming at him in waves as if Sage kept remembering new horrors or was taking in whatever he'd had a dream about in stilted waves. "Look at me," Marsh added because even if Sage was looking right at him, he had a feeling he wasn't fully seeing him yet. "I'm real, you're real, nobody else is here." He gently rubbed at Sage's arms, both for warmth and for comfort.
Sage had had vivid nightmares before, had been having them for years, and they’d kicked into overdrive after getting back from the dark place, but what he’d just experienced was something else. He could still feel the blood on his skin, could hear the screams ringing in his ears, and was only able to believe it hadn’t happened because Marsh was there without a mark on him. “You’re real, you’re okay,” Sage said, eyes on Marsh’s as that reality finally hit home. A dry sob ripped through him and he rested his forehead on Marsh’s chest, trying to collect himself. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “It was so vivid.”
"Nothing to be sorry for," Marsh said warmly, assuming he was sorry for waking him more than anything else. Sage was so disoriented and upset, he might even just be saying sorry without knowing why. "Dreams like that suck," he added, ducking down to kiss Sage's hair before resting his chin there, winding his arms around him more. "Our brains can be such assholes. Do you wanna talk about it?" He had half a mind to go get Sage some port to help soothe him but leaving him alone wasn't an option yet. Talking about it might help though, make him see how irrational dreams really were.
Sage shook his head, instinctively wanting to hide what he’d done, even if he hadn’t been in control of it. He couldn’t tell Marsh that he’d been in the middle of hacking him up when he’d woken him, and he certainly didn’t want to tell him that his dream self enjoyed it. That was what disturbed him more than anything else. What the fuck was wrong with him? “I fuckin’ hurt you,” he said softly, his eyes shutting as he tried to get his breathing under control. “You and Foster and Austin. It… it was awful.” All nightmares were, which made saying so feel like such an understatement. Only children woke from nightmares and remained scared. He should be able to push past this, lay back down, and go back to sleep.
God but he sounded wrecked and tasted beautiful. Marsh knew dreams were dumb, random memories and ideas sparking off each other and they could be fun - or they could be this. Horrible. "Some dream experts might say that hurting people in your dreams just means you love them so much it hurts," he said, still slowly stroking Sage's back. "Or that you're under a lot of stress." Or it might mean his boyfriend was actually a psychopath and maybe he'd had something to do with Grayson James's death after all. That should probably worry Marsh but he couldn't believe it for a second that his precious boy could do something like that. If he did, he really didn't remember because Marsh absolutely believed him.
Did he love Marsh so much it hurt? If so, it wasn’t something Sage was willing to admit, not even to himself. And while he loved Foster and Austin like brothers, he didn’t think it warranted a nightmare like that. So maybe it was stress. Sage could believe that, especially after all he’d gone through. The only thing that bothered him was the lack of a trigger. Yesterday had been fine. More than fine when he ended up in Marsh’s bed. He’d have thought that the sex would have exhausted him enough that the sleep would have been dreamless. “Maybe,” he said, swallowing the knot in his throat. “It couldn’t be real. We weren’t even here. But…” He licked his lips and ran a hand over his face, then touched Marsh again, fingers lightly brushing over his neck. His skin was flawless, not a scratch on him. “It’s hard not to call them, just to be sure.”
Marsh didn't even realize what he'd said could be construed as some kind of love confession, he was putting himself on the same level as Sage's friends and leaving it at that, but maybe 'love' was a strong word to use with someone he hadn't been dating for very long - whatever the context. He did like the way Sage was touching him, gentle and almost reverent and he smiled faintly when Sage spoke again. "It was me and them, right? If I'm okay then so are they. I can promise you that you haven't left my house tonight." Did he want to know what Sage had done in that dream? It sounded horrible, whatever it was and he was torn between sparing himself the details and letting Sage get it out of his system. "I don't think I'd like being called in the middle of the night over a nightmare," he added. "Unless it was you."
Sage nodded, knowing Marsh was right. His friends likely had their phones on silent and it would take more than one phone call for it to go through. They’d think it was an emergency and, even if it might feel like one for him, it would be an annoyance for them. Unless they were dead. In which case, they wouldn’t even answer. If they slept through the phone call, Sage would probably have a meltdown, so maybe it was better not to chance it. “Yeah… you were in my room. You’ve never even seen my room,” Sage said with a little laugh. Marsh in his room was ridiculous. It was a disaster, just like he was, and he’d never let him see it without a deep cleaning first. “I wouldn’t call you unless it was an emergency,” he said, then took a deep breath. “And… you’re okay, so… this isn’t an emergency.”
"Definitely not an emergency," Marsh reassured him. "Though, not that you mention it, I should probably see your room." He grinned faintly, eager to distract Sage from his nightmare and hopefully wake him up a little. "You got some secrets there you don't want me to see? Embarrassing boyband posters? Anime waifu pillows?" He knew the answer to both of those was no. He could imagine what Sage's room looked like based on what he knew about him though he wasn't ever going to get it exactly right. It was probably more the fact that he lived with his friends and it was just easier to stay at Marsh's place where they had the privacy to be as loud as they wanted.
“Oh my God, none of that,” Sage said with a little smile. “I’m not a twelve year old girl or okaku. Though I’m kinda impressed you know what a waifu pillow is. Or maybe I should be concerned. Got one under the bed? You pull it out when I’m not here?” Though the dread still lingered, he appreciated the chance to be silly, hoping it would help him disengage from the fear that felt ever present in his life. Even in sleep it came for him. Usually Marsh was a comforting presence, capable of chasing the worst nightmares away, but not tonight. At least he was there for him now, in the aftermath. If Sage had been alone, it would have been impossible not to spiral into a full panic.
"I wish I didn't know what that is," Marsh said with a grin. "But unfortunately I grew up online and the Internet teaches you things whether you like it or not." There were far worse things online of course, but being hyperbolic felt right at the moment. He was trying to ease Sage away from his horrible dreams and sometimes silliness was a good way out. Not always, but in this case the trauma was a nightmare, not reality, so it applied. "I'll need to see your room soon then," he decided. "Before you have time to redecorate it." He lightly tickled Sage's side before pulling him in closer, nuzzling his hair.
“The issue isn't the decorating,” Sage said, squirming as Marsh tickled him. He wasn’t really in the mood to be tickled, but it was nice to be touched in a gentle way. He leaned into Marsh afterwards, finally beginning to calm, and forced his mind to stay on subject, well aware it was the distraction he needed. “My room’s not as coordinated as yours. Or as organized. Or clean. Imagine if nothing matches and a small tornado came through and that’s about it.” His apartment, when he’d had one, hadn’t been much better. Sage tried to be organized, but almost everything he owned felt like a half finished project, started and then left for something else.
"So, kinda like my room in college," Marsh said and he wasn't lying, he'd been a little less tidy back then with the newfound freedom of not living with his parents plus the partying. It was easier for him now to keep things neat, he had the money to buy nice things that matched and he took pride in his home. That didn't mean it was always tip top, he just tended to make sure it was when he knew Sage was coming over. "I haven't lived here very long, but I definitely have nights where I don't do the dishes or leave things where they shouldn't be, I'm pretty sure I can handle your room."
Sage narrowed his eyes in consideration, then sighed into a small smile. “I guess if you can handle me, you can handle my room,” he said. It was sometimes hard for Sage to imagine a younger, less responsible version of Marsh, but he supposed he could see it. Lots of people were wild in college and then pulled their life together once they graduated. Sage had always been somewhere in between—responsible enough to pay his bills, while his lifestyle still sometimes resembled that of a college kid. But then he wasn’t that many years beyond one either. Maybe things would change as he got older, but he kind of doubted it.
Marsh had been blessed with a trauma free life. He'd been a messy teenager in a very normal way and then he'd gotten it out of his system before he finished college. He couldn't even really say when he'd really 'grown up' and sometimes he didn't even feel like he truly had. Looking at his life he guessed it was true though, he had his shit together and he had a nice house. Even if some of the boxes were still unpacked after all this time. That had more to do with his inability to choose how to paint a certain room and feeling wishy washy about where to keep certain things. Plus work was busy. He'd get there. "So you're gonna invite me over?" he asked with a grin and it felt good not to taste Sage's distress on his tongue anymore - no matter how good it tasted.
“Maybe,” Sage said with a little smile. “You sure you want to see it?” He wasn’t sure why he was still hesitant on his end. At first he’d thought that Marsh would have no interest, if he was just a passing fling, but Marsh had since made a point of meeting his friends. They’d gone out together on what Sage considered real dates. Marsh was probably more his boyfriend than anyone he’d dated in over a year, so it should be no big deal. But Marsh was also more different than any of the others. That often seemed like a good thing. It was a good thing. He just often worried it was the reason Marsh would eventually leave him and hated taking steps that highlighted their differences. Then again, this was the man who was comforting him after a nightmare like he hadn’t completely disrupted a good night’s sleep. “Just say when,” he eventually said. “Just a warning though, it might feel a bit like walking into a frat house. Not that I know, but, you know what I mean.”
"There was a time in my life where I lived in a frat house," Marsh told him. "It'll probably just be nostalgic." He didn't think it would be as bad as some frat houses, and to be fair his frat had been more nerdy than most. They'd still been teenage boys living away from home for the first time and he hadn't stayed there long. "I'll give you a week to prepare if it makes you that nervous," he added, mostly joking, reminded of his own frantic cleaning when he knew his family was coming over. "Mobilize those band boys for something more than music."
“I could totally see you as a frat boy,” Sage murmured with a little laugh. There were plenty of things about Marsh that didn’t fit that image, but he had the look, especially when he’d been younger, if he recalled his Facebook pictures accurately. “I think I can get it presentable in a week,” he said. “My room, at least. Getting the guys to clean the house just for another guy to visit seems less likely, but bribes always work.” In actuality, his friends would probably pull things together if they knew Sage cared about it; they were close enough that things like that mattered. He’d just never hear the end of it.
"No bro code?" Marsh asked, feigning shock. "What if you were bringing a lady friend, they'd help you out with that, right? Double standard, right there." He raked his fingers through Sage's tousled hair and stifled a yawn. "You don't have to clean for me, I really don't care if your place is a mess. I like you and you haven't been making a mess here." He smirked, technically that wasn't true but they'd been making plenty of messes together with Marsh in charge so he couldn't put that all on Sage. "No pressure though, obviously."
“Oh, there’s definitely a double standard,” Sage snickered softly. “I think the assumption is you’re a guy, so you know how gross guys can be. Or you’re harder to scare off.” His eyes shut as Marsh played with his hair and he leaned into him, his body tired even if his mind was wide awake now. Sage always appreciated words of reassurance from Marsh. Every little bit helped him cement it into his brain, even if he found it hard to believe. He was there, in Marsh’s bed, so he couldn’t deny it, no matter how much it continued to surprise him. “I do make a mess here,” he murmured with a grin. “You just clean it up.” They had fun doing it, so he didn’t think that counted. Licking his lips, he looked back up at Marsh. “I’d like that. Maybe I’ll even play for you.”
Marsh did know how gross guys could be and he was pretty hard to scare off so Sage's roommates weren't exactly wrong. If he was honest with himself he might have realized that there was more to it all than that. He hadn't been super interested in exploring Sage's life before. Sage fit nicely into his life and it was fun to explore him without delving more into the details of his life. Marsh was curious now though. He'd met some of his friends and was interested in meeting more of them, seeing more of the puzzle pieces that made Sage into what he was. "If I come to your messy home with your messy roommates you better make it up to me by playing something," he teased, tucking a stray strand of hair behind Sage's ear. "You think you can sleep again?" he asked then, a little more somberly. He would stay up if he needed to but he was undeniably tired.
Sage couldn’t decide if playing something for Marsh was more or less personal than having him in his living space. He supposed it depended on what he played for him. Either way, it felt big to him, though he tried not to think of it like that or he’d psych himself out. They were fun, this was chill, and he shouldn’t read too much into it. Except this was the man that was sitting up with him after a nightmare. That made everything feel a bit more real. “I might go watch some TV for a bit,” he said, giving Marsh a little smile. “You don’t have to stay up. I just don’t think I can sleep yet.” He didn’t want Marsh to worry about him, but he wasn’t all that sure he’d be sleeping again at all. The nightmare was still there when he closed his eyes and only time would help it fade.
Marsh sighed softly because he really wanted to stay up with Sage but he had work in the morning and he was dead tired. It wasn't fair. Why couldn't this nightmare show up on a weekend if it had to show up at all? "Okay, you help yourself to whatever you want and come back to bed when you're ready, don't worry about waking me up." He almost changed his mind about it as soon as he spoke, maybe he could just snooze on the couch, but no. He had work, he needed not to be half awake for that so he pulled Sage in closer and kissed him lightly on the lips. "Wake me up if you need me though, okay?"
In a perfect world, Marsh would have joined Sage on the couch, where he could have chased the nightmare away with cuddles and cartoons. But in a perfect world, he wouldn’t have had the nightmare in the first place. The world wasn’t perfect, and Sage had to accept that Marsh needed his sleep more than Sage needed his company. If he stayed with him, he’d just toss and turn and keep them both awake, and then eventually he wouldn’t be able to stay over on work nights. It wasn’t worth risking it. He lingered as Marsh kissed him, then slowly pulled away, grabbing his boxers as he climbed out of bed. “Promise,” he said with a soft smile. “I’ll be back soon.” Maybe, but if not, then Marsh knew where to find him.
"Okay," Marsh murmured and enjoyed the view as Sage got up, but only for a second before he let himself flop down on the bed again, his eyelids heavy and his mind already a little foggy. "Help yourself to anything," he said though he'd already told Sage that. His brain was getting a little less cooperative and he just wanted Sage to know he was welcome to do whatever he wanted and needed and that he didn't need to feel like a guest in his house.
“Thanks,” Sage said with a small smile. He really hated to leave Marsh, but he knew going back to sleep wasn’t going to happen, at least not yet. Hopefully he’d be able to find something on tv that would help scrub his brain clean of the nightmare that lingered. Otherwise, it was going to be a long night, and probably an even longer day to follow.