Author's Notes: I thought getting out of school for the summer would lead to a quick final update, but apparently not. But here it is—the last chapter of Oneirophobia. This fanfic has provided a lot of chance for me to experiment with writing, and the final chapter is no exception. I leave many things unsaid, because I want the readers—you—to fill in the blanks. Your ideas of what happened and what is going to happen are probably different from my own. This is okay. I am showing things to you, not telling. If you don't have any idea what this chapter is talking about by the time you finish, that's not your fault either.
I conceived this idea on August 22, 2004. Its journey out of my head ends here.
Nightmares in adulthood are often associated with outside stressors or exist concurrently with another mental disorder. Ken just wishes they would stop.
Oneirophobia
11.
And then Ken woke up.
.....
.
"I had some bad dreams," Ken said softly. "I can't sleep."
Daisuke didn't reply, but his eyes were open and that sigh of his suggested he was cognizant of Ken enough to listen.
Although most of the dreams were sketchy at best, having evaporated upon waking, Ken took a deep breath and told Daisuke all he could remember. He didn't mince anything: the Kaiser's teeth were always sharp, and two loaves of challah bread needed FIVE (5) EGGS, and Daisuke and Ken killed each other in a variety of loving and hateful ways, and Ryo really liked apple pie, and Jun looked beautiful in wedding white, and Osamu's breath smelt like licorice, and Wormmon's innards did not bleed, and Oikawa was a doctor who tried too hard, and . . . and, . . . and, . . .
By the time Ken had finished, Daisuke was sitting up and looking right at him.
They were together in their apartment's cramped living room: Daisuke sat on a couch three inches too short for him while Ken stood behind it, close enough to touch Daisuke but afraid to. Daisuke looked down, looked at Ken again, and then looked at someplace in-between. What do you want me to say? his body language asked in these quiet, weary moments. Is there anything I can say after that?
Last night, they had had a fight. It had been a fight in the making for weeks, though, built up with the tension derived from brief touches, clipped sentences, cool skin, and remarkable detachment and mistrust. Daisuke had screamed and Ken had cried in a girly, shameful way; Ken had fled into the bedroom, locking the door behind him, and Daisuke had stood outside of it for what seemed like hours, fumbling with excuses and too-late apologies. They had had a fight over everything and nothing, as couples were wont to do, but it was the final topic that had segued into a glimpse at the rawness and naivety of desperate love.
"There's nothing left in my lonely room without you," Ken said once he had the courage to.
"You have such a way with words," Daisuke said. His voice was bleak with tears he would never acknowledge. "Get over here, idiot."
The couch wasn't big enough for both of them to recline side by side, so Daisuke took Ken into his arms. Ken could still smell alcohol on Daisuke's clothes, the stiff and noxious kind that made him want to gag, but he didn't complain like he had last night.
"I'll tell you," Ken said softly. "I'll tell you everything you want to know—"
"Don't worry about it."
"It's just hard."
"I know," Daisuke whispered. His lips were dry and rubbery; when he wet them, he inadvertently licked the skin of Ken's neck that they were resting against. "I shouldn't have said . . . last night . . ."
"I'm sorry."
"What do you have to apologize for? I'm the one who started it, so I'm the one who's sorry."
"I'm still sorry!" Ken said defensively, although he wasn't anywhere near angry or even annoyed.
"It's just—there's a lot about you I don't know and can't reach. I should know you better than I do. I want you to stop having those dreams, and I want to be the reason why they stop."
"Daisuke . . ."
"I know. Shutting up now."
Ken grinned weakly. "But I think I might be ready."
"Huh?"
"It took something like last night to make me decide," he said. "There's just too much I've kept inside and let fester for years and years and didn't want you to see and heal. It might get harder for us if I let you in, but maybe . . ."
"It'll get better eventually," Daisuke said with conviction he hadn't possessed a weak ago. "If you're willing to trust me, anyway."
"I do. I always did. I should have said so sooner."
Daisuke finally smiled and Ken hesitated, as if he wanted to say more, but stopped there anyway.
"I appreciate your angst, but I think we should save the rest of this for the morning. Do you have any idea how late it is? I haven't been able to get to sleep yet!"
Ken frowned and leaned his head against the other man's chest. "I'm sorry. Go to sleep."
"Idiot," Daisuke said affectionately. "You're an idiot. Don't beat yourself up over this because you might have more bad dreams."
"Mm."
"You're afraid of so much, you know? I want to chase away some of that." Daisuke yawned. "But . . . seriously, it was kinda romantic in a twisted way when you killed me to preserve our relationship . . ."
"Only you would say something as weird as that."
"Remind me to never let you drive a car when you're distraught, or ever go on a vacation to America with you either."
"You're weird."
"And you're no less awe-inspiring. Also—this is the last thing, and it should be obvious—I'd kick the Kaiser's ass all over again if I could."
"But—"
"You're not him. You never were."
"Daisuke—"
"Two separate people sharing one body. Shut up."
"Insolent gnat."
"Hey!"
"But I believe you anyway," Ken said, mouthing the words against Daisuke's sternum.
"Oh . . ."
"And we have the morning for this, like you said."
"You tease. That's right."
"Yeah . . ."
"Mmhm . . ."
Ken didn't try to suppress his laughter. "Go to sleep, will you?"
"You first."
"Okay."
"Okay."
"Goodnight, Daisuke."
"Idiot."
—-
end
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