“I used to dream about this, when you were gone,” he says, still staring down at his coffee. “I’d walk in and you’d just be sitting there like usual. Or I’d pass you on the street, or in the subway, and it was like … you’d been gone a long time, and I was finally finding you again. And you were OK, and I was happy to see you, even though we weren’t together.”
It should probably feel weirder to be talking about dreams while in a dream, to the subject of said dreams, but it doesn’t. Ren’s not sure why it doesn’t feel strange, but as long as the feeling persists, he will keep talking. Maybe these are things he needs to talk about.
“There was one dream where we went to the beach together. You got pretty sunburned,” he says, with a quiet laugh. “One time, you went with me to the planetarium, and you told me the story of Orihime and Hikoboshi, like I was a little kid who’d never heard it before. But I didn’t really mind, because you were there with me.”
The invisible waves of warm affection surrounding Ren have begun to overlap with layers of sorrow and regret, like the interwoven ribbons of a maypole. He really missed Akechi - more than he realized at the time, he’s discovering.
“A lot of the dreams I had were about being at the jazz club with you. We’d be talking about something I learned in school that day, or even not talking at all, just listening to the music.”
Those were the dreams that always left Ren with the heaviest blanket of sorrow when waking. They were too close to real, and too close to what Ren wanted so deeply. He picks up his coffee and finally takes a sip, swallowing down those feelings of longing and regret.
“Watermelon apples, huh?” Ren looks up at Akechi and pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “Guess those would be easier to move than the regular size.”
no subject
It should probably feel weirder to be talking about dreams while in a dream, to the subject of said dreams, but it doesn’t. Ren’s not sure why it doesn’t feel strange, but as long as the feeling persists, he will keep talking. Maybe these are things he needs to talk about.
“There was one dream where we went to the beach together. You got pretty sunburned,” he says, with a quiet laugh. “One time, you went with me to the planetarium, and you told me the story of Orihime and Hikoboshi, like I was a little kid who’d never heard it before. But I didn’t really mind, because you were there with me.”
The invisible waves of warm affection surrounding Ren have begun to overlap with layers of sorrow and regret, like the interwoven ribbons of a maypole. He really missed Akechi - more than he realized at the time, he’s discovering.
“A lot of the dreams I had were about being at the jazz club with you. We’d be talking about something I learned in school that day, or even not talking at all, just listening to the music.”
Those were the dreams that always left Ren with the heaviest blanket of sorrow when waking. They were too close to real, and too close to what Ren wanted so deeply. He picks up his coffee and finally takes a sip, swallowing down those feelings of longing and regret.
“Watermelon apples, huh?” Ren looks up at Akechi and pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “Guess those would be easier to move than the regular size.”