One Of Those Nights (Cade)
Oct 14, 2015 20:48:56 GMT -5
Post by Deleted on Oct 14, 2015 20:48:56 GMT -5
It’d been a while since Oriel had a night this bad. Night mean nightmare, as he was finally willing to admit that to himself(was that considered progress?). He still had them, granted, but having a certain pixie in his bed for most of them helped ease his midnight anxiety whenever they did. After Phoenix moved out of the dorms and in with his Dad, Oriel had a sudden spike in bad nights, as what could be expected. But even then, they tapered off as time went on and Oriel became used to sleeping alone again. He had to admit, at least, that the time they spent apart during the week made their weekend dates all the more precious to him. And that was comforting enough to get him through the bad nights whenever they happened to pop up, making them not so bad anymore.
Occasionally, though, he’d get hit with a big whammy. It was as if the gods were waiting for him to become complacent before bestowing upon the teen boy something that left him startled awake in a pool of his own sweat and grime and tears(no there weren’t! Oriel did not cry!). Tonight was such a night where he sat crouched over his knees with his head buried in his arms as he tried to catch his breath. He wandered to the window and opened it to let the cool fall air blow over his damp skin, leaning out with his elbows against the ledge. He’d normally fire up a cigarette about now, but….well, hell, he’d been doing pretty well on not doing that anymore, so he wasn’t about to break it now, despite the fact that he did keep a pack under his mattress for safekeeping. Just in cases and all that. He hadn’t needed it yet, so….that was good, right?
He felt like he might tonight though. But before he resorted to bad habits again, he may as well exercise some not-as-bad habits first. Oriel pulled on a white tank before venturing out in just that and his grey plaid pajama bottoms. Barefoot. Because fuck shoes. He’d stumble down the stairs with a yawn, his eyes drooping half-closed from his lack of sleep. Half asleep or no, Oriel wasn’t actually sleeping anytime soon, not without a hoard of demons invading his subconscious three minutes in(at least, that’d been his experience in the past), so may as well do…..something. Anything. Cartoons were nice.
Oriel entered the first floor commons to find it already occupied by a familiar gloomy figure, one he’d seen before during his night escapades over his four years here at Hammel. He couldn’t say he liked this person, but he didn’t dislike him either. They weren’t close, but they weren’t distant either. It was an uncertain relationship they had. Friendship, if you wanted to call it that. “Oy,” he greeted shortly, flopping backwards onto the couch and stretching his legs across it. “What’s on?” he asked, rolling over to face the television.
Occasionally, though, he’d get hit with a big whammy. It was as if the gods were waiting for him to become complacent before bestowing upon the teen boy something that left him startled awake in a pool of his own sweat and grime and tears(no there weren’t! Oriel did not cry!). Tonight was such a night where he sat crouched over his knees with his head buried in his arms as he tried to catch his breath. He wandered to the window and opened it to let the cool fall air blow over his damp skin, leaning out with his elbows against the ledge. He’d normally fire up a cigarette about now, but….well, hell, he’d been doing pretty well on not doing that anymore, so he wasn’t about to break it now, despite the fact that he did keep a pack under his mattress for safekeeping. Just in cases and all that. He hadn’t needed it yet, so….that was good, right?
He felt like he might tonight though. But before he resorted to bad habits again, he may as well exercise some not-as-bad habits first. Oriel pulled on a white tank before venturing out in just that and his grey plaid pajama bottoms. Barefoot. Because fuck shoes. He’d stumble down the stairs with a yawn, his eyes drooping half-closed from his lack of sleep. Half asleep or no, Oriel wasn’t actually sleeping anytime soon, not without a hoard of demons invading his subconscious three minutes in(at least, that’d been his experience in the past), so may as well do…..something. Anything. Cartoons were nice.
Oriel entered the first floor commons to find it already occupied by a familiar gloomy figure, one he’d seen before during his night escapades over his four years here at Hammel. He couldn’t say he liked this person, but he didn’t dislike him either. They weren’t close, but they weren’t distant either. It was an uncertain relationship they had. Friendship, if you wanted to call it that. “Oy,” he greeted shortly, flopping backwards onto the couch and stretching his legs across it. “What’s on?” he asked, rolling over to face the television.
