Title: Sleepy Nights
Author: Saaam
Rating: PG-13ish
Disclaimer: I don't own 'Friends' or anything in its relation.
Summary: Rachel can't get Ross out of her head, and her dreams prove it.
Author's Notes: First fic. Please be kind. Reviews are always welcomes. This takes place after Ross and Rachel's breakup early series. Third season, I would say?I think so.
There's a box of fruit juice in my left hand and a carving knife in my right. I don't carry knives, I don't drink juice. Even though these should be the last of my concerns on the priority list, they're the most prominent in my mind. The fact that he's there in the flesh, standing right in front of me doesn't set off any warning bells. Even though I haven't talked to him in days, seen him in weeks or felt his kiss in months, I'm completely at ease and calm; a feat I never accomplished when I was around him before.
His eyes are like chocolate pools. When you drop a pebble into a pond, you can see every ripple you cause. You can see everything that goes on, from the top to the bottom. You can see your reflection, and you can see the life that lives from the inside. That's the best way I can think to describe his eyes. You can tell everything about him from just one glance. Their dark essence gives me cold chills and make me cry at the same time. I have always been the only person to tell exactly what he is thinking at any given time. His eyes tell stories, and I can read them.
He outstretches his tanned hand for mine, and we're standing alone in my living room and there's a song playing that neither of us knows. It's the song of a dream, and it's the same every time; hauntingly beautiful laced with a tinge of remembrance of a better time. Something you hear every night but never remember. I can taste the bitter tart of enigma on my tongue and it leaves me wanting more. My thirst for him is never quenched. I'm never full.
As he leans down to whisper into my ear, I can already taste him on the tip of my tongue and I have to use ever fiber of my being as not to be wrapped up in him all over again. Three whole months of sleepless nights, regrets and what if scenarios playing out in my mind. His smell races up my nose and I briefly wonder to myself if I can go another second without kissing him. I have no idea how I have gone three months without it.
"There you are," he whispers as he finally takes my hand. I watch silently as my juice box falls to the floor. The dark purple liquid streams from the box as his other arm slips around my waist. A signature move that always made me feel protected.
"I missed you," I mumble, burying my head into his chest. I breathe him in and try to make my mind capture every single second of this. There is no telling how long until I see him again, and I want to live every second that I possibly can. I don't want to lose him again. Getting over him was the hardest thing that I've ever had to do and I don't think I could ever do that again. "I think about you everyday. You know that, right"
It's everything that I have been needing to hear. It's been in the back of my mind forever now and now it's finally being spoken. Everything that I had relied on months earlier is back. I feel like I'm complete again. His statements are flowers and my mind is grabbing them out of the air. It's like the questions of my life are answered. I'm home and I love it. I never want to leave. I can never let him go.
"When do you have to go?" I ask lightly and already the words are bringing me pain. I can't live another three months like I have been. I need him. I need everything about him, from his crazy idiosyncrasies to his bad habits.
"Never. I'm not fucking this up again." Goosebumps start running up and down my arms and legs as I feel his lips on my neck. The fluttering of his lips are like butterflies and I can't help but close my eyes in ecstasy. My arms are all over his back and my hands are feeling wherever they can touch. His mouth travels across my collar bone, up my neck and across my jaw line. My hands somehow find their way under his wife beater and his favorite baby blue polo and a surprised sigh emits itself from his mouth.
It always amazes me how I can surprise him. I never would have seen myself with my best friend's brother. I never would have even began to fathom the feelings that I have for this man. He's beautiful in every sense of the word, and I don't know what I have been thinking about for the past months. I want him and nothing but him.
Finally, his mouth finds mine and crashes into it with the pent up aggression of three months. Every emotion, every thought, every feeling, every tear that ever went towards each other is emitted with the salty taste of his lips against mine.
The hand that's holding mine slips out silently, his lips still attached to mine and pressed against the wall behind my head for support. The other hand still runs up and down my back, making me feel smaller because his whole arm can fit around my body.
He tastes like must and the faint taste of mint, mixed with a little bit of sweat and the fading sweetness of chewing gum. His smell is intoxicating and he reminds me of musk and old cologne. He is the essence of what a man should smell like and its beautiful. I could never see again, and as long as I could smell him, I would know he was near and I would feel safe forever. That's all you can ask for, right? Feeling safe, that is.
He pulls away slightly and looks at me, and that's the first time that I can see any hint of remorse. Ever. Out of every feeling that has ever passed his eyes, regret and remorse have never been ones that I see. I've seen hatred, I've seen sadness and I've seen pure joy, but I have never seen regret. I have never seen him have something to be sorry for.
"You don't deserve this. We're on two different planets," he grumbles, turning his back to face me. Suddenly, we're not in my living room anymore. We're in the middle of the street in front of my parent's house and it's raining harder than I have ever seen it rain in my life. You can barely see your hand right in front of your face, but I can see him standing clearly in front of me, a mixture of rainwater and tears falling down his face.
"No. You told me you weren't going to do this to me again. I can't do this again. I can't get over you. Not after today," I cry, stomping my feet and borderline hysterically waving my hands in the air. I frantically grab for him, still planting kisses all over his face. He can never resist butterfly kisses. Anything so he won't go. He shakes his hand and once again outstretches his hand towards mine.
"I love you, Rachel Green."
Before I have the chance to say anything else, the earth crashes with thunder and anything that I have planned on saying is drowned out in the rumbling from the earth.
And I sit straight up where I have fallen asleep on the couch, barely taking notice to the fact that Monica is moving baskets of laundry down the hall, causing loud crashes as they hit the wall.
My hand immediately shoots to my lips. They're still kiss swollen and throbbing. I lick my mouth and I swear that I can still taste him on my tongue.
How could that have possibly been a dream? It was all so real, and it was all so vivid. I don't understand how your mind can conjure something so incredibly detailed and something that you want so much. I throw myself back onto my bed of pillows and take a deep breath. As hard as I try, and as much as I plead, I can't make myself believe that they still smell of him. He's gone. He has been gone for three months. I've worked hard to get him out of my life, and I've succeeded. I've moved on and I never have to think about him again.
Except I now find myself asking, will he ever get out of my dreams?
Review? Thanks.