My very first OneShot on fanfiction, based on that infamous artwork... You know which one is that I'm talking about. Enjoy!
She Avoids Dreaming.
—How is Laura?— You could hear LaFontaine talking, maybe as a low voices at the back of your mind. You couldn't quite right get what them was saying; you understood their words, but still you couldn't find the meaning to that sentence. What them was asking was so simple, so direct, yet your mind was somewhere else. Your mind was in the place where she left, your eyes could only find the still made bed of that stupid vampire. You could only hear the memory of her sobs; over and over again.
It's been a few days, and those days without her presence felt like the death to you. Still, you can feel your heart beating and your breathing there. You hate it, you wish that you were dead.
—She hasn't slept in weeks.— That was Danny, you think, but you didn't pay enough attention to know for sure. All that you could pay attention to was that pain in your chest, and the tears in your eyes. God, it hurt so bad. It was like your heart was burnt and taken away. You were sure that your heart was in the bottom of that cliff, with Carmilla.
Maybe if you stopped moving, the pain would cease -you thought-, but nothing was helping. You buried your nose in Carmilla's shirt, as if her smell would bring her back. Your ribcage felt smaller, and the tears got thicker.— Carmilla…— you whispered. —You stupid vampire!— you said, now yelling, crying again.
The despair was painted all over your features, and the anger you could feel it in your bones. She wasn't supposed to die, she was supposed to live forever, she was supposed to be immortal, and instead you were left with nothing more than a shirt that smelled like her perfume and her shampoo, the memories of her rare smiles, her witty remarks and her voice, and the regret of the words you never got to say.
You were so tired, but you knew that sleeping would just make your hounds deeper and infected. You could close your eyes, though, right? Just to stop the itching. Only for a brief second… But you couldn't sleep, and for the most, you definitely couldn't allow yourself to dream. The pain was just too real, it was there, burning and pounding and hurting your mind and your soul. It was too overwhelming.
Anger was soon to be turned into rage. You couldn't understand why, it was so unfair.— Why?…— you sobbed, crying in that shirt of hers.— You weren't supposed to die…— and definitely she wasn't supposed to die like that. It was so brave yet so stupid, why did she had to do that?! You cried, because you felt there was nothing left to do. So many things unsaid, so many kisses not given.
Sometimes you looked desperately to the door, in the hope that maybe she would open it and say "hello Cutie", or something along those lines. But the door remained shut, and those times where it was opened -and even knowing this, your eyes sparkled with hope-, it was always somebody else… It never was your infamous roommate. You assumed this time would be no different, you were too consumed into your pain to hear the door crack and care.
— Who is dead?— you knew this voice. It was the voice you had been repeating inside your head for weeks.— Wha..?!— You sat immediately, looking at the doorway for confirmation that this was not a dream. You saw her, her mouth with dry blood at the sides, she was limping a bit. Still, she was the most gorgeous creature you've ever seen.
—Hi cupcake.— her hair was a mess, she smelled terrible, her wounds were visible, but you couldn't care less… It was her! You looked up, still looking at her unbelievably. You reached up, the need of reassurance bigger than the fear that if you touched her, she would vanish. Your hand touched her face, and she was real, so real… She closed her eyes at your touch.
Excitement and joy rushed through your whole body, as you approached her and threw your arms around her.— You really are here!— you said, as she hugged you back.— H-How..?— you asked. —I'll explain everything later.— she said. You buried your head at the crook of her neck, and the smell of dirt overwhelmed your nose.
— But first I need a shower— Carmilla said, laughing a bit. She really did, and you laughed with her.— Yeah, you do…— you said, cleaning the tears under your eyes.— Hey… Says the one who smells like a camel.— she defended herself. You slapped her arm.— Hey! I've been mourning your stupid vampire ass for a week! — you exclaimed, your emotions running. She only laughed in response.
— I can see that… Is that my shirt in your bed?— she asked, and all that you could do was shut her. She wasn't allowed to mock your mourning. God… You've missed her so much. It was almost like Carmilla had taken away your life with her, and now she was back, so was your life. Happiness and relief replaced the despair and the cholera.
Time passed, Carmilla was healing well. Soon enough, your yellow pillow was again stolen. When Laf and Danny saw Carmilla, they hugged her as if their life's depended on it, and, off course, Perry was crying. It was unexpected, you always thought that the redhead hated the vampire. Still, the way she hugged her made clear that even her had missed Carmilla. You couldn't blame her.
As days went by, things slowly started to get normal again. Carmilla still ate your cookies, and you still hated that. Even though, you couldn't help but think that you wouldn't want it any other way. You still fought her, though, and those fights started to turn into kisses, until you didn't even care about the cookie anymore.
The kisses were now given, and the words were no longer unsaid.
—Why does she avoid sleeping?— your heard, very lightly, as if it was whispered. You opened your eyes, confused, not understanding why was Carmilla whispering to you.— Hm? Carm…?— you asked, opening your eyes, only to be welcomed by an empty bed. You looked around, looking for her, meeting loneliness. She was gone as soon as you opened your eyes.
You felt out of breath, as despair filled your lungs. Your heart went missing again, only leaving that unbearable pain behind. Tears were running down your cheeks again. You putted your hand on your face, hiding it, as if that would hide you from the ache too.
—She doesn't avoid sleeping — she corrected, and then there was a pause.— She avoids dreaming…—