My best dream

Hello, fellow fanfiction writers and readers. I've finally decided to upload 'My best dream' as the first of hopefully many stories on this site.

After I've finished reading „Hollow City", I have taken a liking to the pairing of Enorace. In the movie, they barely have interaction, the main reason probably being their age difference. This little treasure helped me to capture the essence of Enorace of that fact.

I decided to make this a two-shot. If you wish, leave me a review commenting on what you liked, didn't like or if you want me to write more of it.

Enoch is 16/17 years old and Horace around 12 or 13 years in this story, but has retained his sensible personality like in the book. It takes place before the events of the movie, so Jacob will only be mentioned if at all.

And now, without further ado, enjoy 'My best dream'...

Chapter 1:

Horace was lying in his bed, dreaming. Or better, envisioning yet another horrendous course of the future. His heart was racing like a crazed horse in his chest, all his muscles were tense. Sweat made his wheat-blond hair stick to his pale forehead, his throat was dry, making his breath come out in wheezes. The young syndrigast moaned in horror as scaring images flashed before his blue eyes.

Everything in him yearned to wake up at last, to cut the bonds that bound him to the realm of dreams, but his mind still held him prisoner. Then – finally – it was over... With a strangled cry, Horace lurched up like a rocket, half entangled in his sweat-soaked blankets. For minutes the boy was just sitting in his bed, trembling and breathing heavily. At last, his heartbeat lowered so much that he didn't have the impression anymore that it was beating right in his throat, trying to suffocate him.

When the hysteria finally subsided, quiet desperation filled him. The tears, weighing too heavily on his eyelashes, fell from his eyes, first one by one, then steadily trickling down his cheeks like tiny rivers. Horace tried in vain to blink them away, while his arms circled around his 'lucky pillow' and pressed it close against his chest, hoping it would calm him. A lump grew in his throat when he found that, for once, his faithful token refused to work.

His bottom lip started to tremble, his heart picking up speed again. Whimpering sounds started to escape his throat and he covered his mouth quickly with one hand, not wanting to rise the younger children from their much needed sleep. He was about to start sobbing, that much was clear. After his episode, he felt upset and afraid. Just thinking about staying alone in the dark, while another attack could overcome him at any given moment was stressful enough to make the tender-nerved boy dizzy with fear. No, he needed company. But who?

Bothering the little ones and disturbing their peaceful sleep? Definitely a no-no. They'd just get frightened and fretful, the opposite of what he needed right now.

Maybe Emma or Olive? Horace thought about it for a moment while staining the sleeve of his night-shirt with tears, but then decided against it. Interrupting a dame's beauty sleep? His mother would have screamed sacrilege. Both girls were compassionate and good listeners, but they also deserved to rest.

Miss Peregrine? She had stated clearly that he could approach her at any time of day or night, if there was anything that bothered him. His heart immediately approved of going to his ymbryne, but again his brain held him back. Guilt was added to his sombre feelings. She was doing so much for him already... She awaited him with a good meal three times a day, had relieved him of any heavy chores out of respect of his episodes, always ensured that he was happy. A little sob shook his frame. No, he couldn't burden her with such trivial things when she needed all of her powers to make sure her children got to see another beautiful day.

Horace's despair grew steadily. Was it so hard to find someone who could assist him in his need? Neither the children, nor the big girls, nor Miss Peregrine herself could help him! But that left him with only...

„Enoch...?", he half whispered, half asked himself. Enoch O'Connor of all people? Yes, Horace knew for a fact that the dead-riser had unusual sleeping habits and that he would most probably be working on his creepy creations even this late at night. A picture of him appeared before Horace's inner eye. Pale smooth skin standing out against jetblack hair, always combed back strictly. The lips almost always pulled into a scowl. Chocolate brown eyes, the little warmth they had drowned by the shadows under them, which were rivalling with the shadows in his heart...

Could he really dare to ask Enoch to help him with his nightmares? All the times they were usually together consisted in the older boy either completely ignoring him or shooting him some poisonous words when he was in an especially bad mood. Granted, today he had been rather well-behaved, but would he allow Horace the shelter he craved? It wasn't that he despised the younger ones – otherwise Miss Peregrine would have kicked him out of the loop long ago –, he even assisted them sometimes, but to really try and soothe his fears?

Before he could really register what he was doing, Horace had already swung his legs out of bed. Enoch was his only chance and to at least try to knock on his door was better than sitting in the dark, sobbing his heart out with fear and loneliness. For a moment, he was standing on trembling legs, but soon he stood firm and made his way out the room into the dark corridor before him.

Normally he would have screamed in horror at the state of his night clothes and his hair, but tonight he couldn't care less that his fine silk garments were stained and creased and his blond mane, usually so carefully groomed, was sticking out in every direction. All he needed right now was a safe haven...

The carpet swallowed any sound his bare feet might have made as he jogged along the hallway towards the staircase that connected the first floor with the second, where their dormitories were situated. Knowing his fellow peculiar, Enoch was likely to be found in his work space near the kitchen. Horace gave a little shriek when his foot almost slipped on the first step, but he managed to catch himself at the last moment. Nervously he looked around, but nobody seemed to have woken up.

Finally, he stood at the bottom of the stairs without having broken his neck in the darkness. The kitchen was a few metres to the left, he could see the moon shining on the white tiles. Shivering as his feet left the carpet to make contact with the cold bare floor, he slowly walked past it and into the shadows once again. There was the storage room, the bathroom for the first floor and then he was there. Horace stood before the wooden door of Enoch's „sanctuary", as the necromancer called it. Suddenly, despair and fear resurfaced in him, emotions that he had managed to supress during his short walk around the house. With tears blinding his vision, he raised a fist to knock.

End of Chapter 1

So fellows, this is the first chapter of "My best dream". Please feel free to leave a comment on this story.

Yuna