Soo...I'm back! This is more of a test, than anything else.
Short, but enjoy~
It was in the dead of night; most God Eaters were in bed, peacefully slumbering and safely away from the terrors of the living.
Only . . . some terrors aren't so easy to escape.
He laughed with his family and Ketsueki, making the most of the day off. He had done several missions, mostly small Aragami, and had earned himself an afternoon to be with his family. Ketsueki, being nosy as always, forced himself into the equation and earned himself a free day as well.
In his thoughts, he felt as though he were resonating; on the one hand, he was acting out an episode of Bugarally with his best friend, but on the other . . . he had seen this dream before. He knew how it ended.
It always ended the same way, after all. And he could never escape it.
An explosion. Ketsueki and him turning, seeing a Quadriga come from nowhere, his family in front of the Quadriga. That is . . . what was left of them. As they stood in shock, not even wielding their weapons, the Aragami took aim. Before either could dodge, a missile launched . . .
Pain. Even in the dream state, he felt shattered ribs and broken bones. His dream self coughed up droplets of blood, having just been thrown against a wall by the shockwave. And where Ketsueki once stood . . . was nothing but blackened ground and debris.
The Quadriga slowly turned itself to face him, its chest opening to reveal another large missile. He told himself to move, to escape, to no avail. The Aragami fired, the missile closing in . . .
. . . And Kama woke up, screaming and thrashing. He fell off the bed, the jolt of hitting the floor forcing him back into reality and out of his half-dream state.
"W-where . . ." Kama gasped, scrambling to his knees. A pair of arms around his neck and a soft feminine "Shh . . ." reminded him of where he was.
"It was only a dream," Kanon whispered, holding him close. "I-It was the same one," he stuttered, shaking like a leaf as he sat on his knees, leaning his forehead against Kanon's.
She murmured reassurances, and soon the nightmare faded from the forefront of his mind. "Sorry . . . for waking you up again," he apologized, grimacing.
She only frowned. "You shouldn't apologize. I'm here for you, you know?" she scolded quietly, hugging him marginally tighter.
He cracked a weary smile. "Yeah, I know," he said as he returned the embrace. Sometimes, he admitted to himself, reality outshone even the best of dreams . . . and made up for the worst of nightmares.