InsaneJournal

Tweak says, "Hug me!"

Klaus Hargreeves (quattuor) wrote in somerealityrpg,
@ 2019-08-10 02:55:00

Entry tags:

active: five hargreeves

FIVE & KLAUS HARGREEVES
Then I'll raise you like a phoenix Wearing all vintage misery- No I think it looked a little better on me

WHERE: Klaus' bedroom.
WHEN: After midnight.
WHAT: Five wakes Klaus from a nightmare.
WARNINGS: Mentions of war- and childhood abuse-related PTSD. Possible mentions of trauma. Et cetera. It's a lot, but they wouldn't be Hargreeveses without it.

Usually, his dreams were a few drops of originality away from having been ripped straight from any of a certain Burrough’s novels - sordid, hallucinant, outrageous, chaotic and containing more than just a few bits and bobs of things better not mentioned in gosh, any polite and mature company and drenched in impossible hues of purple, red and yellow. But even dreams of sex, drugs, rock and roll - of which sex was almost impossibly low on the list, and the eternal chase for the impossibly perfect high, were highly dependent on whatever drug he had running through his bloodstream. Sometimes, they just knocked him the fuck out, and it became less an outlandish retelling of all the shit a junkie went through in search of their next fix, and just turned into a soothing kind of darkness instead - if just for a few seconds, until the first remnants of an impossibly old and stubborn memory managed to ruin even that. After all, there wasn’t supposed to be any rest for the wicked.

But since he’d picked up that suitcase and accidentally became part of a decidedly short list of time travel statistics, the colors changed.

Gone were the LSD-inspired purple and red hues, only to find himself drenched in blood, draped in drab olive green and hemmed in the foreboding colors of darker shades of green and black that almost seemed to [...] twitter in anticipation of things to come. Dave wasn’t in all of them - not all of his experiences in that war had revolved around solely him because there'd been tunnels and blood and bodies and shitty engraved lighters and water that turned purple when you dropped a purification tablet in it and the incessant rain and humidity that just really fucked with his god-given natural curls - but Dave Katz was in this one. Beautiful, radiant, perfect and - staring at him with unseeing eyes and bleeding from an impossible exit hole into that deep, dark jungle while the sunlight was filtering through layers of leaves to the tune of machine guns spluttering and the sound of claymores screaming against the rotating sound of chopper blades turning and turning - but Klaus screamed into that chaos with all of his might.

MEDIC-

But the jungle didn't go quiet. The skies refused to clear. And Dave [...] Dave was still in his arms, gasping, bleeding and Klaus screamed again. No, no, no- but in the real world, the sun had long since bid adieu and the room was cool, but he was screaming- gripping his sheets so hard that his knuckles turned white - and sweating like he was standing on the surface of the sun.

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jumps
2019-08-11 05:20 am UTC (link)

Sitting on the floor of his room in light blue pajamas, back against his bed, Five stared at the papers strewn around him. He'd been trying to work something out, but his mind had gone blank at some point. Time had ceased to matter. The words on the papers, the careful calculations and strings of letters that formed words and sentences, had ceased to make sense. Everything ceased to exist, and he floated in a state of being. There were no thoughts or sights, no sounds or sensations. There was no bedroom or Five or Goodland. There was nothing but the moment, the timeless moment he sat suspended in, a bubble of absolutely nothing.

Something pressed against that bubble, steady and insistent. It wanted in, but the bubble wanted everything on the outside to remain on the outside. That something, however, would not give up, pushing and pushing until, finally, it pierced the membrane of nothing, worming its way into his ears. Still, it took its time to from his ears to his brain, where his brain worked hard to register what it was that had invaded the bubble of nothingness.

Screaming, it said. Someone's screaming.

Was he screaming?

No. No, he wasn't. He definitely wasn't. That was definitely not his voice, definitely not the sound he made when he screamed (and, oh, did he know the sounds he made, the way they tore through his chest, ripped through his throat, and echoed echoed echoed in his ears). Then whose? Whose scream was it?

In an daze, Five rose to his feet, forgotten papers still forgotten, not registering when he crumpled a few under bare feet before pushing his way from one side of his locked door to the other. Was it louder out here, he wondered, looking around with half seeing eyes. It had to be because it wasn't his screams. Which meant it was someone else's. Which he'd established already.

Focus, he told himself as he padded quietly to the living room. In the middle of the room, he slowly turned, listening. Did he really need to do that when the sound was much louder in there than by his room? Did he really need to bother when there was one door always opened, sound always coming just a bit louder from it became of that opened door? Yet he stared in the direction of his brother's room, almost hesitating.

Klaus, he thought, forcing himself to take a step forward. He's screaming, he told himself as he took another. He's dying, the panic piped in, pushing him from a slow walk to a quick pace. Not again, he raged, running into his brother's room, through the open door. Please, he begged at a shadowed figure on the bed, fumbling for the light switch.

His brain sped up, taking in the sight of his brother, knuckles so white Five wondered if he'd ever gain feeling in them again, skin too shiny from sweat. And then a rise and fall of breathing, and part of him relaxed. Not dead, he thought, taking a few tentative steps toward the bed. Not dead, he told himself as he stopped, hand reaching out. Not dead, he assured himself as he paused, dropped his hand. Not dead, he repeated before quietly saying, "Klaus?"

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