It never took long for him to wake from dreams, for the only dreams he had lately were nightmares. Always toppling off of the highest building ever, falling falling falling almost endlessly with one of his wings ripped off at the joint to leave him with a bleeding mess and a trembling, spasming half of the pair. There would be blood everywhere, in harsh droplets that stained the golden end feathers on his remaining wing, tarnishing his clothing. They would burn into his mind, etching in the pain, the fear, the everything – he would endlessly fall, without stop, without pause, without even a slowing down.
And there would always be someone, who had this voice that was innately familiar, as if it was something he would lean towards and be drawn to instinctively, that was always calling, shouting, crying, screaming his name with an anguished-laced voice, cracking and breaking with raw emotion. Red eyes, crimson like blood, tousled raven hair, pale skin – all on a male with black and grey wings who was reaching for him like it would be able to help and –
Shizuo awoke rapidly, jolting up violently enough to almost strain his lower back, with his breath coming in tremors and his chest heaving as if he had run far enough to deplete all of the adrenaline coursing through his system. 'Just a dream,' he told himself, running his hand over his face and pressing his forehead against his palm while forcibly breathing slower, 'Just a dream.'
