Chapter 25: Fucking Nightmares

TW : Gore & Vomit

Dozing off to whatever fantasy his brain had in play for him, he felt a sudden coldness to the tip of his nose. He opens his eyes to look up and see Ether's body hung up the ceiling with the dagger being like a pin to keep him up. Like some twisted dart on a dartboard.

The room was plain white with only Shoto, Ether and his dagger. The two things he found comfort in was now being used to be some sort of sick and horrifying fear that his dream was trying to convey.

The blood trickled down, the room being quiet that you could hear a pin drop. But this time, it wasn't a pin. It was Ether's blood repeatedly falling down and either hitting the bridge of Shoto's nose or the flooring underneath him.

He was frozen still. Uncertain what to do when his only ever friend was right ontop of him, lifeless and bleeding while Shoto couldn't do a damn thing.

Sounds familiar? Of course it was, it's the same circumstance of when Ether first perished.  Shoto looking at his deceased friend covered in blood while all he can do is pray and stare. Pray that it was some sort of dream. Pray that it'd be all over and everyone will soon wake up and live lives as if nothing happened. Pray that demons didn't come to ruin his fucking future.

Mix feelings all around his mind. He felt like he could cry a river and never stop. Supressed trauma and fear all trapped into such a fragile body, packaged with love and care only for it to be shattered in an instant.

Because the gods were cruel and careless individuals. Shoto knew that all too well, having claimed to be 'blessed by the gods' as if that bullshit was near from the truth.

Why didn't he just die? Why couldn't he have just switched places with Ether? Why couldn't he just have suffered the cruel future of death?

Why is all he could ask. Why is all he wanted to ask. Anyone. Anyone to answer his prayers. His pleads of help but to no avail.

No one. No one has ever reached a hand to such a wounded boy who got fucked over by the world way too many times.

Where he lost everything and nothing at the same time. Where he had to learn grief and acceptance all at once. Where he had to make ends meet by doing what means necessary.

Tears flowed down his glossy indigo eyes as so did his best friend's blood that seemed to endlessly drip. Is this it? Is this how it really ends for him? Will he ever avenge Ether or will the guilt of killing so many affect him too much?

Will the burden on his shoulders lift? Will it ever be easier? Does he have anyone to tell him white lies that it'll all be okay and that they'll be here with him forever and ever?

No. Shoto was alone. He always was and always will be. Then why? Why does he try so hard to convince himself otherwise?

Denial? Has he grieved so quickly that he didn't actually pass acceptance..?

It was getting hard to breathe. His lungs felt like they were filling up with water, like he was drowning in his own thoughts and worries.

He covered his mouth with his hands before vomitting out endless amounts of water. It hurts. Everything hurts, everything aches. It won't stop, it never will stop. It's an endless cycle, a cycle no one can break- Not even Shoto.

As if his lungs didn't feel like they were gonna explode, he got a massive headache in the midst of the crossfire of him battling his fears and nightmares.

Never-ending, he was still gushing out water. As if his water symbolized his trauma that he kept inside so long that he burst. Finally letting it all out in one big blow. One big finale. The end of his show of trauma.

But it doesn't stop. His mouth hurts from being open for so long as all he could stare at was Ether's lifeless body.

Then thud.

His boy's limp figure plummeted to the ground which caused Shoto to wake up.

He quickly jerked up to see a crochet blanket wrapped over him and a pillow.

What time was it?

He tried to check but the darkness was enough to signal him that he wouldn't be seeing anything anytime soon.

He was practically a puddle of his own sweat, he quietly sat down. His feet meeting the cold floor. Cold. Cold like Ether's decaying body.

He huffed a sigh. He stood up, wobbly as he was clearly shaken up. He gripped the arm rest of the couch.

'Fuck, that was a weird dream.' He thought to himself before he limply went to the sink.

Once again, rinsing his face with the cold touch of the water. Calm down, he repeated to himself countless times. You'll be fine, he whispered to himself. Trying to reassure his dizzy mind.

He feels a headache coming and now isn't the best of times. He rubs his temples before making a groan of frustration. He wished he had his dog plushie. That fucker always helped him sleep peacefully whenever he had sudden night terrors.

He needed something to hug. Or atleast know there's a presence next to him, something to assure his safety. And he knew exactly what it would be and god did he hate himself for it.

-x-

He weakly approached the doorframe of his boss's room. There he was, sleeping peacefully with his iconic raven black hair plastered on the pillows.

Hesitating, every nerve in his body is telling him to ditch this idea and toughen it out but he knew he couldn't physically nor mentally prepare himself for another one.

Whatever! He's gonna do it whether he likes it or not!

He slowly progressed further in the room when he layed a finger onto the soft cloud-like bed. He didn't think something this soft was even possible!

Putting his weight onto the slender finger, he then transfered his entire body to be sitting on the side of the bed.

Good, Vox hadn't woken up yet. Maybe he should wake him up though- It'd be weird for Vox to make up and see a man next to him without indication or warning.

Fuck that! First, he needs to actually get on the bed.

Finally, he shuffled to the bed and went under the covers.

No matter how late it was, Shoto was wide-eyed and awake. His whole body felt so tense and warm that the sheets were too hot for him to handle.

Suddenly he felt a shift from the other side of the bed. Vox, who was facing his face towards Shoto was now having his pale skin traced by moonlight directly towards him!!! They were fucking face to face! Inches apart!

Shoto's breath hinging from the suddren shift, he looked at Vox with somewhat pleading eyes.

His indigo moonlight eyes still glossy and a bit red since he cried just a bit in the dream and in real life.

Using the covers as a type of shield of him and Vox, he buried half of his face under the sheets. Stopping at the bridge of his nose as he swears he can still faintly smell the blood of his childhood friend.

A rumble emerged but the other male which caused Shoto to focus on Vox 100%. Eyes not averting the image of the beautiful man, he was on fucking edge.

A hand shuffled across Vox as it landed ontop of Shoto's fluffy locks of hair. Flinching at the sudden touch, he stared cluelessly.

"..H.ello Shoto.. What brings you here..?" His voice hoarse and deeper than usual, he didn't even know Vox's voice could go deeper. This surpassed his expectations for sure.

Startled by the low noise which was like a deep purring or a rumbling hum, he glanced away. Not moving, staying contently next to Vox's side.

The other started pressing their hand down until he combed through Shoto's hair. Patting it gently and comfortingly. "It"s okay, take your time baby." He reassured, eyes still close while he kept giving words of encouragement.

Shoto felt so bad. Vox was being so nice to him even when he didn't know what happened and what caused the other to suddenly sleep beside him.

He was so patient for Shoto. Something the slayer didn't know he wanted — He needed.

He mumbled under his breath, eyes still averting the picture perfect imagery of Vox infront of him.

"Hm? What is it Shoto baby?" He asked, ushering for the other to speak louder or continue.

Shoto just now noticed the extreme use of petnames and how it oddly calmed him down.

It reminded him a bit of his mother but in a less platonic sense? He didn't know how to describe it. He just knew that he found extreme comfort in it, especially when the pitch of the voice was so smooth and low.

He finally gathered enough courage to speak, even when he felt like he'd break from the slightest peep or noise.

"I—" He stopped himself before continuing. "N-nightmare." He left it at that, letting Vox figure out the rest.

The demon took the hint before continuing to soothingly pat the other's hair. "I'm sorry to hear that, baby." He apologized, sounding genuinely sad for the other. So why? Why did Shoto get butterflies when he heard such a sweet apology when it wasn't even his fault.

Vox continued. "Shoto, can I touch you more?" He asked. In response, he gets a silent small nod from the other.

He smiled before wrapping a leg and an arm around the slayer. His arm wrapping his waist and hips and the other being tangled along with Shoto's other limbs.

The slayer let out a small shriek from the sudden show of affection before quickly warming up to it. Calm. He was feeling calm again.

"You can stay as long as you need here, babe. Whatever makes you comfortable, okay pup?" He makes sure that Shoto understands that It's okay how long he takes to cool down, It's okay as long as he's comfortable.

Shoto wish he could get closer and nuzzle his head towards the breathing boy's chest.. Letting their heart beat and breathing sync in a calming manner as they both cradle and hold each other as if it's only them in the universe.

He quietly drifts back to sleep.

-x-

Screaming. All he hears are screaming once more. Familiar ones of people he once knew as their ear-shattering cries filled his mind with guilt.

Was he dreaming again? No, no, no- He just calmed down. He can't—

Before he could even collect himself, he suddenly got a wave of stress wash over him. He then saw his mother pleading for him to help her. Reaching her arm out with tears filling her bloodshot eyes.

"Shoto.. Shoto.. My baby." She begged and begged till it's the only thing Shoto could hear enter in and out of his ears. The bloody hand, covered with bruises and cuts kept approaching him.

Closer and closer till Shoto hunched over and touched his mother's finger with his own tip. Fire seared amongst both of them as his beloved caretaker molded and shaped back to.. Ether.

Ether again. When is it not Ether? Why did his only comfort also become his biggest horror in the end?

The small dark figure standing infront of him stared and stayed silent. Even if he was relatively much shorter than Shoto, he could feel like the person he once knew was looming over him like a 6ft giant. Such a contrast between them.

Shoto felt suffocated. He didn't know what to do and he couldn't move. He couldn't do anything once again and just stared in silence and fright. Every muscle in his body begged him to run away from his worst nightmare but the feeling of being locked in and caged never left and only sent him to his demise.

The dead boy he knew began walking ever so slowly. Steps sounding like poundings on the ground and floor, Shoto shivered in fear. What's gonna happen to him? He can only question and think before the other stopped in their tracks.

Holding up a gun and gently pulling the trigger.

-x-

Whispering no's escaped Shoto's lips when he fell to the ground. His lungs hurt, his leg ached, everything is in pain. He's in pain. He choked back sobs before he clenched his chest to bury the unwanted stress and emotion building up inside him.

"Shoto?"  A voice?

"Shoto?"  Why is it calling for him?

"Shoto, are you okay?"  Is this an angel? Has he died and moved on to the afterlife? This is how life destined his future to be?

"Hey Shoto, I'm here." Firm. The voice was firm yet not demanding nor threatening. It was.. soothing and nurturing. Who was this?

"Shoto!" Being shook back to reality, Shoto opened his tearful eyes to see.. Vox..? Oh fuck, right- He forgot he crashed to Vox's place.

"V.ox..?" His voice shakey and breathy, meek and fragile just like the state he was in. He noticed how Vox was tightly holding the wrist of his arms while facing towards him.

His hands wrapped so perfectly around Shoto's wrist, as if it was meant to be there. So snug and perfect. A home for a lovely pair of hands.

But Shoto wasn't in the right mindset to be flustered about some affection touch. He was having a fucking crisis and a breakdown. He couldn't care less if Vox decides to fucking cradle him to sleep. He'd actually quite like that if he's honest.

"Yes, Hi Shoto. It's me, can you hear me?" The soothing voice replied hastly. Just how worried was he?

Shoto nodded in response, too frightened to speak. Not like his throat could muster up any form of understandable words and sentences.

A faint fond smile appeared onto the demon's face. "Good, good.. Thank you, baby. You're doing so well by communicating with me, thank you." He praised the trembling boy infront of him. What a sad sight, he didn't wanna keep seeing such a devastating face on such a beautiful young man.

He wiped the small tears from the other's face, caressing his smooth pale skin. "Did you get another nightmare.?" He wouldn't call it a nightmare, that'd be an understatement. Nonetheless, Shoto nods. Frowning while he does so.

"I'm sorry, baby. Can you tell me about it.?" He kissed the slayer on the forehead, a gentle and warm peck before retreating back to nurture the saddening boy.

Could Shoto even tell what he saw without shattering and breaking down?

His lips trembled before opening and closing every now and then. His throat felt so dry. Like something clogged his vocal chords to produce any sound or noise. It was like he was drowning all over again, this caused Shoto to panic once more.

"I- I-" He stuttered. What did he even want to say??

"Shh.. Take your time." He pulled him over for a hug, rubbing circles at the back of Shoto. Oh god, if Shoto could just sink in this embrace for years then he would.

The smell of the demon was so familiar yet exotic at the same time. A scent Shoto never picked up on nor had the time to observe such a complicated aroma until now. How it tingled his nose and made his head feel light and airy. It was like all his worries magically disappeared within a second.

But this satisfaction was only shortly lived until he felt his chest tighten once more. His breath hinged yet again and he felt like fainting. The happy airy feeling filling his head is now turned to a headache he didn't want nor need.

"Vox- Vox—" He choked out, calling the familiar man's name over and over again. Repressing down tears of sorrow and trauma. He closed his eyes shut, seeing if doing that would help his current situation. Anything, he'll do anything just to get rid of this sick feeling.

A firm hand ran through his hair, causing him to snap out of his spiral and back to the real world. The real world where he was in Vox's arms, where he was safe. "Breathe, Shou. Follow me." He spoke in an almost whisper tone before slowly and deeply inhaling and exhaling. Gesturing for Shoto to follow suit.

He did what he was told, taking deep breathes with the fellow demon. Calming his nerves down but still shaken up and frazzled.

Before Vox could say another reassuring sentence, Shoto cuts him off with a slight whimper and a string of words. "I-.. M..my dream— It was about my past.." Stuttering, he tried to not go on a full-blown sob.

Vox still not stopping the comforting touches, he spoke. "Go on." He ushered.

Shoto held on tighter. Brows furrowed, he continued. "And- And my friend  shot me who is now dead." He spoke bluntly, as if speaking about his long lost friend made a bitter taste linger on his mouth and escape from his lips.

He breath. "And it was fucking scary.. I hate it, I hate it Vox— Why can't it end?" He cried out, tears finally streaming down his soft skin. He yearned for an answer, an answer for his countless questions to the world. Yet no one answered.

"I don't— ..I don't fucking like this Vox..!" He yelled in frustration, punching the reer back of Vox. Lightly, of course. He didn't want to hurt the only man giving him comfort right now.

As Vox listened to the cries, endured to the hitting, those didn't match to the sorrow and pity he felt to the man weeping in his arms. The very thought of Shoto being so vulnerable to him and hurt already sickens him. And now, his sick nightmare came true and now he has to bear sight of such a tragic imagery.

A boy hurt beyond repair, finally letting out all the unwanted and unneeded burdens he has faced himself with.

He doesn't care how long Shoto takes in his breakdown. He doesn't give two flying fucks if he has to stay here limp and bored. He shall stay with his boy for God knows when and where, just to give him the comfort and treatment he's been longing for. Treatment he needs.

The nights were all silent, only being able to hear the heart-shattering sobs of a familiar man in the arms of his comforter.

Fucking nightmares.