Log: Grayer & Will Who: William Piper & Grayer Valentine When: Jan. 10th, Night Where: Zener, Grayer's Dreamscape What: Will wanders into Grayer's dreams. By accident, clearly!
Every time that Will closed his eyes, and all he could see what Grayer's bruised face staring back at him. He couldn't stop thinking about it. Even when he wasn't around Grayer he worried himself over what to do. He wanted to do something to help Grayer, but what could he tell the teachers? Grayer had a black eye, but Grayer would just give the excuse he'd fallen. The bruise was probably gone by now, and Will was merely left with the memory. "You're an idiot," he whispered to himself, draping his arm over his eyes which had been staring up at the ceiling for heaven knows how long now.
He needed to sleep, he had things to do in the morning. Laundry, a bit of cleaning about and some homework he probably should have done that day. Turning onto his side, Will waited and listened to the ticks of the clock on the wall until he couldn't hear it anymore. Maybe if he thought about Grayer enough as he fell asleep, he'd dream about him and somehow at least think he could save him. Soon enough his breathing slowed, his body relaxed and his mind slipped away into a dreamscape.
Only it wasn't his own.
Grayer was asleep and dreaming. Only it wasn't a particularly pleasant sort of dream. It was more of the nightmare variety, or at least boarding on such, as his dreaming mind replayed the things that happened to them. Making everything bigger, sharper, scarier.
His Dreamscape was shadowed, and dark, with very few points of light, and the background was faded to obscurity, although it was a house of some sort. Details were difficult to make out in the gloom. But Grayer was there, looking smaller than normal, which was how he often felt. Head cast down, eyes turned to the ground, shrunken in on himself. A figure loomed large above him, larger-than-life and clearly anger, features twisted in a sneer, words sharp like the cut of a whip. Grayer was getting yelled at, belittled, for any number of things that seemed to fly at random; being a disappointment, being weak, being too girly, all twisted together in anger.
If this was Will's own dream, Grayer wouldn't look like that. Will's eyes looked around at everything, wanting to stand between Grayer who...whatever that was. This was a nightmare, he didn't need to be a rocket scientist to figure that out. He took in his surroundings, and listened to the cruel words spoken. It was always a wonder to Will how people could be so mean and still live with themselves every day thinking that they were right. It angered him, and he wondered how they would feel should the tables turn on them.
A frown set in his face as he approached slowly, not wishing to make himself know just yet. And trying to control himself from taking on the tall figure himself. His anger froze him in place as he came to a point where he could start to make out the shape of the face.
Grayer didn't notice Will there, because he didn't notice anything at all, except the person who was speaking to him in such harsh, unpleasant tones. With every word there was almost a visible deflation in the dark haired boy, shoulders shrinking in on themselves, arms clutching tighter, head ducking all the more. Which of course prompted an angry 'Look at me when I'm talking to you, boy!' Always a winless situation, because he could easily be accused of staring, the inevitable 'what are you looking at??' that always came, that was part of the reason Grayer never made eye contact with anyone at all.
But he looked up, cautiously, nervously, trying not to cringe away, trying not to do anything to spark more anger. It didn't work. It never worked, and the diatribe ended in an open palmed smack across the face, the crack of skin-meeting-skin as evident as Grayer's whimper.
Will had seen movies where people got hit. During his middle school years he'd seen videos they showed about domestic violence. But seeing it for himself, even if it was just a dream, horrified him. The slapping sound made him wince, it nearly had Will leaping at the large figure that was haunting the dream himself, though this was Grayer's dream. Not his. Which meant that while he could have some influence over the dream, he couldn't just make the man...that monster, disappear.
He never really had a need to influence dreams much, though that didn't stop him from playing around with that part of his ability. Though what to influence in the dream was difficult, particular when he had to figure out what he could. Great fears were usually difficult to alter, because the person dreaming them made them powerful entities. It would be Will's mind battle Grayer's own fear, which was great when it came to whoever this was.
The least he could do would be to make it less of a dark atmosphere. His mind toyed with their surroundings, pushing away the dark and trying to bring more of the light in. Monsters could be less scary if the shadows weren't there to prey. The points of light began to grow, slowly but surely, and soon enough the darkness that had once overtaken the room could only be compared to shadows in the early afternoon.
Will licked his lips and kept himself to the side for now, waiting to see if Grayer noticed the difference.
At first Grayer didn't notice, because the change was gradual, and he had a hand to his face which throbbed a rhythm with his heartbeats. But as moments passed, he got the feeling that it was brighter in the room. At first he thought it was just his imagination, or hope, but no, to becamse clear that it as brighter, and the details became clear with the growing light, which bounced off walls and furniture. It looked like a fairly ordinary living room, with sofas and chairs and curtains on the window. Much more friendly looking than it looked in the dark.
The othe figure seemed not to notice, perhaps because he wasn't real. At least not in this Dreamscape he wasn't, but just a manifestation. He continued to rant for another minue or two before turning to stalk away.
Grayer frowned and turned slowly, planning to sit down, but in the light, he suddenly noticed that he wasn't alone. He started, a little jump in his step and eyes going wide, and then he blinked in surprise. "Will?" Grayer didn't realize he was dreaming, not on the surface, but something in his subconscious was surprised to see him there.
Will hadn't realized his attempt at hiding had been futile, at least not until Grayer was saying his name now looking at him. "Um...hi," Will moved out from behind the piece of furniture and scratched at the back of his head, "What's up?" Immediately he felt like an idiot for standing there, and acting like he wasn't trying to hide. Maybe he should have just stood there, pretending to be just another part of Grayer's dream. Will took a step forward and then dropped his hands to his sides.
"This is a nice place...the couches look comfortable," he motioned a hand toward one.
Grayer realized (or made up) the reason why he was surprised. Will was in his living room. At home. Where he'd never been before. How did he get there? How did ge even know where to go, Grayer wondered, a puzzled look settling between his brows and bright red chasing up his face where he'd been hit.
"Uh," was his clever reply. He looked at the sofa where Will was gesturing, as if expecting it to look different. It didn't. "You can sit down?" he ventured, still perplexed by this whole thing. And still fluttering with leftover anxiety.
"What are you doing here?" he asked cautiously, as if a little bit nervous to actually ask a question. As if Will might hit him too.
Will took a step to the couch, "Oh, thanks." He moved over to sit down, the couch cushions allowing him to sink in a little. "I was just...coming to see you. You know, hang out and stuff." A lame excuse and highly unbelievable, "Um...how're you though? Is it okay that I'm here? I mean, if you want me to go, I can just...leave." Only he didn't want to leave.
He made a gesture toward a door when really he'd walk through and then probably end up leaving.
"It's okay..." Grayer didn't sound sure. Not that he wanted Will to go, he was just confused. But he was shifting towards believing Will. It was the way of dreams, that eveything made sense, at least when you were dreaming and unaware of it.
"You don't have to go..." Will was nice, he remembered, and safe. Safer than some things. He looked at the door as well, which would probably end up leading to a school hallway. The details of the room were starting to shift little bits to resemble his dorm room, because that made more sense as a place for Will to be. He rubbed fingers over his cheek absently. It was sore. It would bruise. "Did you want something?" He inclined his head towards the kitchen. Sort of towards the kitchen because it was also towards the wall as things shifted around.
Will smiled from where he sat, "Thanks, I was hoping I could stay a little longer." He didn't want to leave Grayer's dream until he was sure that Grayer was happy. Content. Sure to have good dreams instead of a repeat of what Will witnessed earlier. "Nothing in particular really, well, except to hang out with you," he smiled and figured it was about time Grayer was complimented, "You're really cool, you know. I mean that. You're creative and I like to spend time with you." And in the end that was all the truth.
"I don't know if you hear that often, but it's true, and...don't try to say otherwise," he insisted, "I don't think you realize how great you really are. And sometimes I wish I could do more than just tell you." The room now looked like Grayer's dorm completely and Will glanced at the surroudings. The couch had turned into Grayer's bed, and he was seated at the edge. "Have you written anything in that journal I got you?"
Grayer looked at him, about chin level, as if he wasn't sure what to say, or whether he believed Will's words. Finally, he decided not to argue or try and counter the other boy's words. "Thank you," he mumbled, looking a bit embarassed at the compliment. Here was a boy clearly not used to being complimented. "Um. I like hanging around you too?" He felt more comfortable than he did around a lot of people, even if he wasn't entirely why.
The corners of his mouth tipped up in a tiny hint of a smile at the mention of the journal. "I have," he replied with a little nod of his head, hair bobbing into his face. "A few things." He had decided to use it a something of a mishmash journal. Writing out his thoughts, but in a variety of ways. Not like an actual journal, rally, but with snatches of life in strory form, or little snippets of poems, and mixed in with other lines and words that he likes. "Thank you. I like it. A lot."
"Really?" Will asked sincerely interested, "That's good. I'm glad you're using it." He was still smiling to hear that Grayer liked to hang around him. He bit his bottom lip and then spoke again, "I'd probably use it to sketch stuff. I do that a lot, sketch. Nothing fancy, but I wanted to go into architecture and so I just end up drawing pictures of some old gothic looking buildings. Weird, huh?" Will rubbed the back of his neck bashfully. Looking up at Grayer he smiled again.
"The stainglass is fun," he added, "Have you ever been to one of those old churches? I want to go to Notre Dame, because, well, they have this huge one that if you stand inside the catherdral and the light hits it, you're...covered in the color." He was getting carried away, and this was Grayer's dream! He panicked for a second and then coughed into his hand, "Sorry. What sort of stuff do you write about?"
Grayer thought about it before shaking his head. "No. I've seen pictures in books, but I've never been in one," he replied. "They look nice. The windows. The stained glass." They were pretty in pictures and probably even better in person, with the sun shining through the multi-coloured glass, lighting it up. "What do you want to... uh... design?" He wasn't sure what it was classed for architects Drawing? Designing? Building? Something.
"I write about. Well, anything," he said with a sheepish little shrug of his shoulders. "Whatever I think of. Stories, a lot." In a variety of genres really, whatever occured to him. Often fantasy type things, the strange and the unusual... although not of the scary variety. He lked to keep a hopeful note to stories. His poetry was often sad though.
"Really? Well, if you ever feel like sharing, I'd like to read what you've done," Will smiled happily at him, "I can show you some of my sketches. I don't really show them off because who wants to look at pictures of old looking buildings, right?" What if Grayer didn't want to? He bit his lip again and then coughed into his hand again. He really needed to stop doing that!
"You should smile more often," he said rather abruptly.
"Well. People don't really read my stuff," Grayer replied. He didn't want to outwardly no, because he never wanted to reject anyone's idea, but he didn't feel comfortable letting people rea what he wrote. With the exception of the few things that were for English class. "But... I'd like to see your pictures." He meant that, too. He was curious as to what Will did. Curious about nhim in general.
"I... oh." He was surprised, because it didn't take much. Will seemed to have a knack for taking him by surprise because Will was nice and complimented him in ways that Grayer wasn't used to. "I... could try?"
Will was starting to realize a couple of things. One was that he probably liked Grayer a little too much. More than just a guy friend and that could be a problem considering how skittish Grayer was and that if Will ever tried anything like...holding his hand, kissing him, or the like, he might shrink away. Another was that if he stuck around, he might do something wrong like take advantage of the dreamscape and do something selfish. Like try to kiss Grayer. And then be seen as another monster.
"You should try...it's amazing how much your mood can change when you smile," he offered for now, "But I should go I think. I'd like to stay but..." he'd been long enough in Grayer's mind that he was afraid Grayer might realize he was in fact dreaming. Will smiled with his mouth closed and lifted a hand to place on Grayer's shoulder, "Don't let your fears control you. At least not when the things that scare you most aren't here." Not there to hurt him.
Will stood up, trying to act casual and refrain from using the term 'sweet dreams' as a farewell.
Turnig his head, Grayer stared at the hand on his shoulder. But he didn't flinch away like he had the first time Will had touched him, in the library a month ago. "Not here?" he echoed, and then looked around. Will had a point. He was sitting in his dorm room (or so he thought) and so there was nothing to be afraid of.
He shifted to the edge of the bed, letting his legs slide off the edge as Will got up. "Um. It was nice of you to stop by," he said. "You can come by again sometime. If you want to."
"Thanks...I will," Will smiled at Grayer, "I will." He knew that Grayer wasn't talking about his dreams, but maybe Will would come back. Often. At least until Grayer wasn't having nightmares about people hurting or belittling him. He'd be the dreamscape knight in shining armor. Only he wanted Grayer to think he was defeating the nightmares himself. But it confirmed that Grayer was indeed suffering some kind of abuse. At home. He moved back to the door slightly, "I'll see you later, Grayer." He moved back and went through the door.
Will's eyes opened slowly, the familiar wall of his dorm room staring back at him. A sigh escaped his lips and he turned over onto his other side, glancing at the clock which warned that he'd be waking up in a couple of hours. He smiled to himself a little, and closed his eyes again.