Chapter 1

A Nostalgic Tune

'No one is going to leave you.'


In the still of the warm, quiet night, Folken stood unmoving in the dark hallway in front of his brother's bedroom door. Only a strip of his face was visible, showered by the soft orange light of Van's night lamp.

He peeked into his brother's bedroom through the door that stood slightly ajar.

Through the sliver of opening, he saw Van tossing about in his bed, fists tightly gripping the bedsheet, a damp white cloth that was placed upon his forehead had long slipped onto the sweat-drenched pillow. Every now and then, the man at the door heard guttural grunts coming out of Van as if he was in agony.

Folken placed a hand that was stained with swatches of paint on the door, contemplating on whether to check on his brother or to leave him be. After all, Van had told him not to simply stroll into his room whenever he felt like it.

He finally pushed open the door a little wider to let himself in when he heard Van mumbling, muttering incoherent words in his sleep.

He was mindful to not make any noise as he took soundless steps towards his brother, carefully side-stepping the little carving tools that lay scattered in the middle of Van's untidy room as his brother's whispered words reached his ears.

'Hitomi… please…'

Folken stood at the side of Van's bed, watching him; the sweat-beaded brows, the parted dry lips letting out soft groans, the distressed look on his face. He wondered what was it Van was seeing in his dream to make him sound so desperate and heartbroken.

'Please… I'm your…' Van let out a laboured breath, turning around in his bed, his arms reaching out a little, his long fingers trembling, 'white-winged…'

Folken knelt by the bed with some concern when Van seemed to be suddenly gasping for air, his eyebrows furrowed together as a hot tear rolled out of the corner of his closed eye.

'I am… King of… Fanelia…'

With a mix of astonishment and anxiety, Folken stared a little fascinatedly at the lone tear making its way down Van's flushed cheek. He was suddenly struck with the realization that he hadn't seen Van cried in years.

His brother used to cry a lot when he was very little; for one reason or another, he would come running into his older brother's arms with tears streaming down his face, wailing, his small body quaking.

Folken would then hold him consolingly, rocking him softly back and forth like a loving mother would, saying everything will be alright until Van had stopped sobbing and calmed down, finally looking up and giving his doting older brother a charming smile that never failed to warm his heart.

The older brother now looked concernedly at the young man's face sleeping fitfully in front of him, wishing it wasn't covered in so much pain and anguish like it was at the moment.

'Van,' Folken called out his younger brother's name softly as he placed a soothing hand on Van's heaving chest.

Promptly, Van's hot and sweaty hand grabbed his brother's, clutching at it like he was drowning in a violent open sea, the crushing waves threatening to swallow him whole, leaving no trace of his existence, and his brother's hand was his only lifeline, his only hope to stay alive. His grip was so strong, so desperate, it would leave deep, red nail marks on Folken's hand for days.

'Don't leave me…' Van breathed, his raspy, sorrow-laden voice was barely above whisper. 'Please…'

Folken stared at Van who was very much still deep within his dream.

Gently, he wiped away another hot tear that had escaped Van's closed eye, feeling a little alarmed at his brother's rueful, unconscious pleadings. He had never heard him sound so hurt like this, like he was suffering in the most horrific way.

'It's alright, Van. I'm here. Your brother's here. No one is going to leave you,' he whispered to Van in that deep, reassuring voice of his as he lovingly pushed back his brother's messy bangs from his sweat-covered face.

Van seemed to calm down a little at his older brother's cool touch against his feverish, sweaty skin, at his comforting words in his ear, at the rumble of his solacing voice pulling him out of the rough seas, out of his terrific nightmare. The frown on his face slowly disappeared and his ragged breathing began to even out.

Folken started whistling a tune softly. It was a tune their late mother used to whistle to him when he was little, when Van wasn't yet born. When she died years ago leaving behind a teenage Folken and a very young Van, Folken would lull his younger brother to sleep with the tune. It felt nostalgic; he hadn't whistled it to Van in such a long time.

In a short while, Van had quieted down like a sleeping baby. He wasn't stirring about in his bed anymore, and no more heart-wrenching groans came out from between his chapped lips.

Folken watched Van's now serene sleeping face, feeling his brother's tight hold of his hand gradually loosening. Van had finally drifted into a tranquil, undisturbed sleep.

'What's going on in your dream, kiddo?' he whispered as he silently pulled his hand away from Van's chest, watching his peaceful sleeping face for a moment more.

A soft mewling at his knees made him look to see a little brown cat with black stripes along her tail and legs staring up at him, her big blue eyes almost imploring. Folken found himself smiling at the sight of the feline.

'You're worried about him too, Merle?' he asked, patting the cat on the head fondly.

The cat meowed in reply before jumping onto Van's bed and devotedly licked the young man's tear-stained face. When she thought she had done a good job cleaning it up, the cat then curled herself snugly in the warm crook of Van's neck, purring and looking contented. Folken scratched the cat with a finger along her furry jaw for a while, watching her close her eyes with pleasure, smiling a little at the girly pink collar Van had loosely put on around her neck.

'Keep him company tonight, okay, Merle?' he patted the cat lightly as she meowed at him with half-lidded sleepy eyes. 'Please make sure Van doesn't have anymore nightmares.'

Before he left Van's side, Folken smoothed over his brother's unruly hair one last time.

'Good night, Van.'

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Next chapter:

The Hands That Care

'Your hands, they are like my brother's… so soothing, so caring.'


Author's Note

Hello! Thank you for reading Memory of a Dream. If you haven't noticed, this is a direct continuation to my previous one-shot, Take My Hands. I guess you can still read this without reading the one-shot first, but there might be some things that may not make sense. I know I should have just added the newer chapters to the one-shot, but I want Take My Hands to stay a one-shot. So I decided to put together the new chapters under a new title. I hope you enjoy reading Memory of a Dream!