dreams - fleetwood mac

Sunlight filtered through the black curtains drawn over the window facing Nezumi's bed, falling directly in his line of vision. He awoke from his slumber to nearly being blinded. He groggily turned over, cursing internally as bright phosphenes lit up behind his eyelids. He was still sleepy enough to slip back into slumber if he forced his mind to be still; but the room was so bright, he wasn't used to it being this bright, and he was doomed to lay in suffering unless he lifted himself out of bed and closed the curtains shut. At that point, returning to sleep would be futile.

The longer he contemplated returning to sleep, the more awake he was feeling. A dull ache suddenly began to throb in his left temple. He lifted a hand and reached over for his glass of water. But his hand moved too quickly, too clumsily, and the cup hit the hardwood floor with a thud.

So much for sleep.

He was unaware that he had been subconsciously grinding his teeth until the dull throbbing pain in his temple gradually spread into his neck and shoulder. With a defeated sigh, he roused himself from bed and shuffled into the kitchen for a towel to clean up the spill, and breakfast. Inukashi and Rikiga were in the midst of a heated argument. They were nearly yelling; how had he not noticed them earlier when he woke up? Had he known they'd be constantly bickering over the most menial of topics at all hours of the day, he'd have chosen more wisely for roommates. The alternative was living alone, an experience he didn't necessarily miss. Their presence, at times, offered a distraction and relief from reality, in the same way that performing on stage did.

He searched through the kitchen cabinets in search of a spare towel and his bread that he kept hidden from either of them stealing it. It seemed that complications had arisen in a job that Rikiga was taking on for a city official, a job that Inukashi reluctantly agreed to help them with.

"Nezumi, back me up here!" Rikiga growled, slamming his fist on the table and looking up expectantly.

He casually turned around with a piece of bread and butter in hand, tilting his head to the side with raised eyebrows. "Sorry, I wasn't listening." A bit of a white lie, since he had been catching snippets of their conversation since he walked out of his room. Claiming ignorance and remaining neutral spared him his sanity and time. They both cast him dubious looks and he sighed. "Okay, you're right. Honestly, I don't really care about what the two of you are arguing about."

"When's the last time you cared about something, Nezumi?" Rikiga replied. "Since we've come here it seems you've abandoned your passions. You need to do something better with your time than read those damn books all day." His eyes lit up. "You know, I spoke with someone the other day who mentioned working at a theater... perhaps he-"

"Which reminds me, I've been meaning to tell you." They were both now staring at him curiously. He rarely shared personal details with either of them and instantly regretted opening his mouth at the look of their nosy faces. But it did beat listening to them argue. "I joined a theater company and we will be debuting a play very soon. I know you've always liked my performances, Rikiga. Perhaps you'd like to come watch," he added, sipping from his mug and waited with bated breath to assess their reactions. "I'm sure I could get you a free ticket."

He nearly dropped his damn mug when Rikiga shot up and grabbed him in a crushing embrace before he had the chance to react. Regardless of his personal feelings towards Nezumi, the man's support for his acting career had never once wavered. "It's not a big play or anything, just something I got into at a local theater," he muttered into Rikiga's shoulder.

Rikiga pulled back and gripped his shoulders firmly. "That's it, Nezumi!" He cried. "This is exactly what you need to get your old self back!"

They both turned at the sound of Inukashi snickering. The young dogkeeper was smiling coyly at the table with their eyes downcast into their cup of tea. "Oh, come on," they said with a dramatic eye-roll at the sight of Nezumi and Rikiga's questioning stares. "It's so obvious why he's not his old self, and some stupid play isn't going to make him suddenly start caring about anything-"

"That's enough," Rikiga interrupted angrily. The entire exchange had distracted Nezumi considerably from his headache but he became all too aware of the throbbing pain again and the angry rush of adrenaline that coursed through his body. They both glared at each other, Inukashi hunched over in a threatening pose at the sight of Nezumi almost physically bristling. Since they left the West District, Inukashi had grown bolder in their teases and taunts. It no longer bothered Nezumi as much as it had used to; he no longer felt so insecure or threatened at suggestions that he was growing weaker, that he was losing his edge. But it was clear they were trying their hardest to provoke a response, and it had gone on for too long at this point.

"Admit it," Inukashi taunted him. "You haven't been the same since you left Shio-"

Nezumi instinctively grabbed the bread knife from the countertop he was leaned against and lunged at Inukashi, knocking them out of their chair. Nezumi brandished the knife at their throat and pressed his full weight against them, keeping them pinned down. "Go ahead," he muttered threateningly through gritted teeth. "Say it." Inukashi gulped as the knife pressed harder against their skin delicately, enough pressure to feel the coldness of the steel, but not quite hard enough to prick the skin.

Suddenly, Nezumi found himself flying across the floor, his knife clattering in the opposite direction. When he sat up, he saw Rikiga sitting on the floor between them.

Nezumi stood up, brushed himself off, and walked past Rikiga to bend down and level his gaze at Inukashi. "This is the last time," he said slowly, "that you will ever mention his name."

Something changed in Inukashi's expression. It would have been inappropriate to suggest there was any sympathy, but rather, a newfound understanding of the extent to which boundaries were crossed. Nezumi was hardly an open book, but it seems he was able to get his message across this time.

Standing up slowly, he turned to look at Rikiga. "There is no old self to return to," he said quietly.

He grabbed the towel he had fished out of the cabinet off of the countertop and the rest of his breakfast as he headed back to his room. He had almost forgotten about the spilled glass of water.

After a quick change of clothes, Nezumi grabbed his bag and headed out of his apartment for a walk. He strolled along the creek that began just outside of town by the main street and followed it deep into the forest, letting his mind wander for a bit. He mused over the theater class he was teaching in the afternoon and wondered how he would possibly go about teaching performance art. He stumbled upon acting and discovered his natural inclination for acting purely on accident. He never received any formal training and had no clue how these kinds of programs were structured.

The creek gave way to a larger river; before long, he stumbled upon a group of young adults swimming and splashing around in the water. He stopped to observe them, wishing he had remembered to bring a change of clothes so he could dip into the river later himself. At first glance, the women and men seemed paired up traditionally, until he observed one of the men grabbing the other by the hand and drawing him close in an embrace. He felt a sudden pang of longing, wishing he could experience what they must have been feeling in that moment; freedom, joy, total inhibition. Love. He looked away and began quickly walking in the opposite direction before any of them would notice he had been standing and staring.

Shortly after auditioning and landing the role in A Midsummer Night's Dream, the director insisted he teach in the after-school theater program, an effort established in part to scout new talent in anticipation of the actors that would inevitably retire from his acting troupe. Nezumi's talent for the craft was obvious; whether that translated into teaching... was something they would both find out very soon.

He puffed his cheeks out and let out a long breath. It would be wise of him to keep this job. After he initially declined the teaching position, the director came back to him with an offer Nezumi simply couldn't refuse. It certainly beat the odd and somewhat seedy jobs that Rikiga threw his way, and would give him something to do with his time besides read and meeting shady characters in dark alleys at night. Old habits die hard; staying true to his character, Rikiga couldn't stay out of shady business for long, even in a new town where they had moved for a supposedly "fresh new start", as he put it.

His feet began to ache right as he approached his favorite spot to sit and read. The small cliff he had been strolling along dipped down and gave way to the river's edge. Thin, patchy grass opened up into a clearing full of lush grass, and past that, a a sea of red, purple, and yellow wildflowers that grew as tall as to his hip. Few bothered to venture this far. He was hidden from view, shaded by trees, and free to read for as long as he wanted without interruption. In other words, paradise.

He plopped down and leaned back against the tree, letting his body relax as he listened to the sound of water rushing by him. He reached into his satchel to grab the novel he was currently reading, flipped to where he left off and settled back into the story.