beyondtheline | (no subject)

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[Chrissy falls into a deep, dreamless sleep. She doesn't wake up until he pulls her out of sleep the next day. Despite knowing that Hawkins lies ahead of them, she's in a rested and good mood as they pack up their things and get ready to head out. They stop at a diner about thirty minutes away, and don't waste too much time eating. That probably has to do with the fact they both inhale their food and then some, and Chrissy's pleased to note that the waitress can see them just fine.

So maybe he's right, and they're only half dead. Either that, or starving ghosts can make themselves be seen in the name of getting food.

They go wash up in the bathroom before heading out from the diner, and Chrissy almost tries luring him into one of the stalls with her. But she behaves herself, feeling a little tense as they head back out to his bike.

The drive to Hawkins both feels like it takes forever and goes by too quickly. They listen to music and quietly chat about their childhood, and Chrissy keeps her arms wrapped tight around him the entire drive. Occasionally she presses a kiss to the back of his neck or his leather clad shoulder. The affection is easy and natural at this point, and he doesn't seem to mind her giving it to him anymore. It's just part of the way they are together.

That easy affection continues as they pull into Hawkins and Chrissy feels sick to her stomach. It's late afternoon by the time they pull up in front of her house, and her legs feel like they're made of Jello as he lifts her off the bike. She takes two steps before stumbling right into him, clinging hold of his hand for dear life. ]

I don't know if I can do this.

[She whispers, feeling so stupid. He's here with her, she can do this. She just has to be strong like he's teaching her to be.]

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Yeah. Just like Bonnie and Clyde.

[Who met tragic endings, but she won't get into that. The pull of sleep is too strong, and she's too warm and comfortable to fight it. She sleeps soundly for a while, safe at his side. But eventually visions of her dead body and that awful place creep into her dreams, and she jumps awake in a near panic.

She carefully makes her way out of bed, stumbling her way to the bathroom. She's disoriented after the intensity of her nightmares, and needs a few minutes to compose herself. The shower gets turned on, but rather than stepping into the tub, she slides down the wall to sit on the grimy tile floor.

The bathroom fills with steam as the lets the scalding hot water continue to pour. She hopes that enough to cover the sound of her crying, because she doesn't want Johnnie to be bothered by her being upset. Finally, the day's events start to process through her mind. And she sobs as quietly as she can, hiccuping a little as she tries to bottle it all back in. When she can't, her hands childishly rub at her eyes, attempting to wipe away any evidence that she's struggling.]

[Sleep is fucked.

That's about as eloquent as he's feeling when he wakes up again, bitter that no, the good dreams didn't get to rule his head tonight. At least there's some peace to be found in his memories of that astral expanse, sometimes, but most of it is too vast, too dark, too suffocating. He dreams of places he's never been and things he's never seen, and has no explanation for why rivers of black flow through some exotic tropical jungle, or why in some other time the sky opens up and bares its teeth at the world below, and rains down a torrent that washes entire civilizations down some nameless drain.

His head's still pretty fuzzy as he blinks against the darkness and realizes two things. Chrissy isn't next to him, and he can still hear the rain. Except, no, that's the shower, isn't it? What time is it? Five AM? No wonder he can't sleep, when too often this is when he's normally heading to bed back home.

Seems odd Chrissy would get up and shower right now, though who knows what her usual is. He lies there a while longer, head stuffed into the pillow, before he becomes aware that he's pretty sure he can just make out the occasional quiet sob from the direction of the bathroom.

Ah, fuck.

Well, all right, now he has to get up and see what's wrong, because he has some aching feeling it's his fault somehow and needs to know. He blearily fumbles his way to the bathroom and knocks on the door.]

Chrissy? You okay?

Yeah!

[She's so used to having to put on a cheerful face and lie through her teeth that the response is automatic. There's a fear that if she stops being fun and is too much work, he'll realize he's better off ditching her and continuing on by himself. But the more rational part of her mind tells her that he isn't likely to do that. He's told her not to be sorry about the way she feels. She's supposed to feel everything because that's what makes life worth living.

So she picks herself up, only realizing she's still naked as she catches a glance of herself in the foggy bathroom mirror. The door opens and at first, she isn't sure what to do or say. So she stands there, continuing to wipe at the tears that are still pouring.]

I keep dreaming about that place we found my body in.

[Somehow, the words manage to come out without her sobbing. She's only able to look up at him with wide, sad eyes for a few seconds longer before she's falling up against him. Her arms slip up around him, and she just lets herself finish crying it out.]

I'm sorry I woke you up.

[Maybe if she apologizes, he won't mind her being this upset.]

Aw, babe.

[If she hadn't come to him, he would have wrapped her up right then and there in his arms. Poor girl. She's all dripping wet but he really doesn't care, and with her in his arms, he walks her back over to the edge of the bed and sits them both down. Slowly, he rubs a hand up and down her back, and holds her close.]

Don't be sorry. I wasn't sleeping well anyway. An' that place was definitely the kinda place that fucks with your head. Hard to forget shit like that once you've seen it.

[It's not like he's going to forget any time soon, and it wasn't his body that was all mangled and pinned up like some kind of grotesque trophy, either. He's just gotten to be an expert at trying not to dwell on things, because too much of that might really drive him crazy.

He presses a kiss to her soggy hair and doesn't let go. Won't let go until her crying stops, since he's not sure what else to do anyway.]

[The fact that he doesn't discard her when she isn't perfect makes an entire lifetime of being told no one will want her if she's not pretty and simple and happy seem so stupid. The realization that someone finally cares enough about her to want her even through the parts that aren't pretty only make her cry more.

It takes some time, but the tears do slowly come to a stop. He holds her and she clings to him, but he doesn't ever let her go. That in itself is enough to eventually render her into stillness. A kiss is pressed to his shoulder, a silent show of gratitude for his being there for her.]

Do you think you can go back to sleep?

Dunno. Probably should try. Not your fault if I can't, though, before you think anything like that. Like I said, wasn't sleeping well. Too much shit in my head.

[Which, yeah, he knows he's never fully elaborated on, but now really doesn't feel like the time. He's said enough where she can either guess, or misunderstand, or just ignore it, and he doesn't particularly care which she opts for right now.]

Could always put the TV on until we fall asleep. Sometimes those late night movies are good for that. Uh - you want a towel?

[Because he'll go up and get one, if she does. Got to be more comfortable for her if she dries off first. Probably more comfortable for him too, but he's awfully accommodating when it comes to her, or to girls crying in general, for that matter. But especially her.]

[She nods, and pries herself off of him so he can go get a towel for her. When he brings it back, she whispers a barely audible thank you to him, and takes some time to dry off. Her head feels heavy, like she wants to sink right back into sleep. It's hard to trust that it won't be a restless sleep, but she knows that he'll be right there. And if there's any real danger, he won't let it get near her.

Maybe he guides her back into bed, or maybe they both move together. Chrissy's a little out of it, and it seems like she blinks and then they're curled back up against the pillows and are snug beneath the blankets. This time, she makes herself as small as possible, and guides his arm to wrap around her. She relaxes almost immediately, even managing a smile.]

Do you want to talk about what's going on in your head?

[No, he really doesn't.

But he manages to hold his tongue and not just say that in automatic response. Just once, he'll think about it for a few seconds first. It's not even that it's especially horrible to talk about - well, no, it is but he can do it anyway, he's sure - it's more that it's just not something he wants to burden her with, it's not something he can do anything about, and wasting time and energy on any of it feels futile. If there's anyone who can understand it and help him make sense of it, it's a guy who's far away and who he's really goddamned intimidated by anyway, because while he respects the hell out of the Ender, he's also fucking terrifying and probably not down for casual chats about the void.

Right. Well, maybe Chrissy deserves to know more if they're really going to be traveling together for the foreseeable future. That's probably a good reason. She'll just have to forgive that pause, and his careful reluctance as he puts things into words.]

I told you some of it already, right? About how all that shit I saw when those assholes murdered me keeps comin' back. You know, it's just hard to shake. You ever had a dream where you see yourself, an' everything zooms out forever until you realize you're nothing? Like, it's all too big, an' the farther out you go, even stars are just grains of sand. It's... like that.

[Sort of. It's like a lot more than that, but it's too much to describe adequately. He's only human, and all of that is very much not. Humans might as well be less than ants compared to all the rest of it.

He squints, frowns, then shakes his head.]

Except I think... I dunno, sorry, it's real fucked up. An' I don't wanna freak you out if you're tryin' to get back to sleep. Just makes it hard for me, that's all.

It sounds really messed up.

[She can agree on that. It's also sweet that he doesn't want to scare her, but she can tell that maybe it's one of those things she shouldn't press to get more details on. Not yet. Instead she turns enough that she can hold him in return, her hand soothingly rubbing up and down his side.]

I know what you mean though. About feeling so small and insignificant. If it helps, you can use me as your anchor. If you ever feel like you're floating away into the darkness, I'll bring you back down to Earth.

[Her hand seeks out his, and she threads their fingers together. They've been through more in the past few days than other couples have their entire lives. It's really brought them together, but the affection she feels for him goes beyond all that. She can only hope that she's enough to be able to keep him grounded in reality, instead of letting the void in his mind consume him.]

Might just have to take you up on that.

[And in a way, he already has, hasn't he? He looks for her right when he wakes up, every time, as a way of making sure he knows where he is. Hallucinations aren't warm and comfortable the way she is when she's right next to him.]

When we were in that other place back in Hawkins, you know, I said I'd seen that before, an' I have. It's one of the places I saw when I was... dying, I guess. Still see it sometimes too. You're never there, though. So, I know that place was really fucking hard for both of us, but the fact I had you there helped me know I wasn't just trapped in those nightmares again. We fought that shit off together.

[Hopefully that's reassuring, even if it means bringing up that particular source of her own nightmares. The fact that it's shared, that means something, doesn't it?

Bothers him that he saw it before he ever went there himself, but maybe that's going to be normal for the rest of his... whatever this is. Not quite life, but not death either.]

We did, didn't we.

[She's a little proud of herself for finding the strength to do what little she did. It was only because he was there and she wanted to protect him that she found it. She thinks she'd do just about anything to keep him safe and with her, and to make him happy. If all she has to do is be a touchstone for him, she's glad to do it.]

It was really hard, but we got through it together. That place was so, so scary. And I know what goes on in your head has to be too. But we have each other, and I think love is a lot stronger than all of those dark, terrible things that are out there.

[She has to shift a little to do it, but her lips against his are soft and meant more for reassurance than anything.]

We'll be okay. Just as long as we're together.

[And with that thought in mind, she considers giving in to the threat of sleep that wants to pull her back in. He'll be there when she wakes up. She's not ever going to be alone and afraid again.]

[Love is a big word and that's the second time she's used it now. Oh, he noticed earlier, but held off giving it much weight. This is twice, though, and twice isn't something done or said carelessly.

It's flattering, and he cares a lot about her, he can't deny either of those things. He's been in love before too, or thought he was at the time, but it's hard not to feel a little cynical about it now. Everyone thinks they're in love at sixteen with their first or second or third crush, probably. And she's less experienced than he is, definitely hasn't been with someone who took care of her the way he does, and...

Well, she's being honest about her feelings like he told her to, and he's grateful for that. Maybe he's being too cautious, because she really has been one of the brightest parts of his life already, even though it's only been a few days.

Too much to make decisions about when he's tired. Tomorrow. He nods his assent to what she says instead of continuing to debate it with himself. They'll stick together, and they'll be better off because of it. Her lips are sweet against his, and she fits perfectly in his arms. Maybe he'll manage to get more sleep this time.]

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