"Fuck! Fuck fuck fuck!" Tears fell from chocolate eyes and blurred the world around him, not that there was much to blur. In a moment of terror detail mattered very little. It was only fear until a warmth and weight pressed close to his chest, arms winding tight about his form.

For a moment the fright dissipated and the fog of tears cleared just enough for familiar features of a certain British native to present themselves. Michael felt a degree of the chill that clung to his chest ebb as he clung to Gavin in turn.

"Don't let go." The Brit's words bubbled with their usual upbeat tone but beneath it Michael could hear the edge of dread that permeated the air.

The auburn man nodded, lifting his gaze to meet Gavin's and take in the watery green orbs, and tightened his arms about the blonde. Around them stacks of sand continued to shift and fire crackled overhead but for a brief moment the world was drowned out in favor of the hushed breathing of the pair and the pounding of their hearts.

Michael closed his eyes as Gavin pressed their foreheads together. He felt the blonde tangle his fingers through his mess of hair and stay there, felt the arm that wound about his waist tighten in a show of protectiveness even if it would do nothing in the moment apart from keep the beast of panic at bay. Shakily the Jersey boy drew in a breath and opened his eyes to lock with Gavin's. He simply had to admire the spark within them that even the moment of death couldn't snuff. They were full of life and light and it dug a painful shard into Michael to ever think they would one day never open again. The eyes that were so expressive, so vibrant and lit the fire in his chest every time he caught sight of them. They stoked his passion and fueled his ever present fire. Gavin WAS his fire.

"Michael." His name on those lips sent a line of shivers down his back. It made the world right and the moment they pressed to his own, sealing the pair in a kiss filled with desperation and emotion without barrier. Michael clung to the blonde's shoulders and returned it with force, every bit of his heart spilling into the action that felt like heaven. It felt right. At it's very core everything about the action felt right.

And then the world went dark.

Michael woke thrashing the covers away and sitting up in his bed. He was covered in a cold sweat, heart pounding in his chest and nerves shot to the ninth ring of hell. He could only wonder what twisted force in the world compelled his dreams to take such an angle, mutating something so amusing from a Let's Play into something that made him choke at the thought of it. Turning Gavin into…

The rager felt his heart skip a beat as he thought to the images of the dreams. The phantom touches and whispered words that still echoed through his head. The kiss. He shook his head violently before letting it rest in the palm of his hand.

Maybe it was just the breakup with Lindsay that was screwing with his head. After years of dating and engagement a split would be enough to make his head swim. God knows it was hurting him, he'd already lost weight from it and his sleep schedule was erratic at best now. He wasn't as lively as before, he hated to think that it was obvious but he knew everyone in the office could tell he was a wreck.

All of that was an excuse for his dreams taking a weird turn. Sure it was. People have done a lot weirder after big emotional things but what troubled Michael the most was not the fact his dreams were stilted and strange but who his subconscious decided to focus around. Why the hell was Gavin suddenly the focus of some deep seeded emotional response that set his blood pumping with new energy and caused his head to spin with the same high he pulled from a well earned victory? What the fuck could turn the uncoordinated, babbling, pot of dapper sunshine and stupidity into someone that didn't put butterflies but hungry barracudas in his stomach?

And why, when Michael thought back on it all, did his stomach not roll at the idea of Gavin taking that spot? Why wasn't he revolted at the idea of being held by the other man in a completely serious manner? Why was the image of Gavin kissing him not making him retch?

Why had it felt good?

Michael gave a quick and frustrated roar as he slammed back into his pillows, tugging one over his face. In the moment he wished he could just dump everything in his skull and be rid of it so he wouldn't have to think about such stupid and insane things. If he held the pillow over his face much longer he wouldn't be thinking ever again and with a huff he turned his head aside to breath properly, catching sight of the clock by his bed. He had to groan as the numbers read out less than five minutes after six in the morning. It was far to early to be up but the redhead knew sleep was going to be evasive and even if he did crash back into slumber and didn't suffer his subconscious torment he'd wake up late for work and doing that several times already had been enough.

He figured coffee was just going to be the best option right now.