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Post by Deleted on Sept 30, 2013 22:15:20 GMT
He sighed. At least she wasn't freaking out about it. Maybe like him, she was tired. "It's hard to say." He leant back, scratching the back of his head a little. "It's like some artsy fartsy snapshot. Always pieces, never complete, and I can't touch either. Just some trivial dream." He groaned, eyelids weighing down a little. — @noemi |
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Post by Deleted on Sept 30, 2013 22:18:27 GMT
GOD FORGIVE ME, I WANT YOU ON YOUR KNEES. Noémi pursed her lips. So he can look but he can't touch? Her chest felt heavy now. It wasn't so cliche as if an elephant was sitting on her, but as if her bones were plated with brass. She was heavier at an internal level, and maybe it went deeper than that. Molecularly, she was sleepy and old. She turned away then, curling up on the couch with her back to him. "Sounds real." She'd stay here a little longer and then go to her own bed. Nae was reaching the point, and with her streak of luck Frank would probably fall asleep soon. @frank
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Post by Deleted on Sept 30, 2013 22:46:01 GMT
"I'd say so." He yawned, mind skipping through the states of dream and reality. "I wonder what I see in you though, sometimes." His breathing is soft, and his words, barely audible. It's like he's in a trance. — @noemi |
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Post by Deleted on Sept 30, 2013 22:51:21 GMT
GOD FORGIVE ME, I WANT YOU ON YOUR KNEES. Ouch why did that hurt? She was greedy, that's why. Noémi licked her lips. "Maybe I do hate you." That was a lie, probably. Probably this, probably that. Fuck, her head hurt. Why did Frank make her head hurt? Nae was scared of being like someone else, that these feelings had been felt by other people before her and they would be felt after. She didn't want to anchor herself to a repeating trend. But she grew heavier, and it was frustrating to know that she wouldn't nod off. Noémi's head wasn't kind enough to let her sleep when she felt like this. @frank
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Post by Deleted on Oct 1, 2013 21:34:32 GMT
"Okay." He felt so sleepy he felt faint, but he wanted to look at her. "Are you not... going to go to sleep?" He sounded almost desperate, a last minute plead. — @noemi |
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Post by Deleted on Oct 1, 2013 21:54:37 GMT
GOD FORGIVE ME, I WANT YOU ON YOUR KNEES. "You sleep enough for the both of us," she said blithely, into the cushion. When she heard his breathing slow and become steady she stood up. It was to the bathroom and delving into a nightly routine. She went through the motions and braided her hair, cleaned off her makeup and toned her face. She changed into an oversized sweater and small yoga shorts, she turned off all the lights in the apartment and finally climbed into bed. Frank truly did sleep enough for the both of them, and she stared at the ceiling for hours it seemed. There weren't any thoughts keeping her up, just a restless feeling in the pit of her stomach. Noémi dealt with it for a few hours it seemed. It wasn't too late when she finally got up. After all, it had only been around nine when she got into bed. It was probably midnight or one by now. She grabbed her comforter and walked into the living room. Nae looked at Frank - he'd managed to shift in his sleep, actually sleeping on his side this time. She wondered if it was okay to wake someone up if they had narcolepsy. Ready to find out first hand, she walked over to the couch and leaned over. The layers of her hair that were too short or unruly to fit into her loose braid fell over Frank's face. Holding the comforter in one hand, she shook his shoulder gently with the other, and then shook it more firmly. "Hey, sleepyhead," she said at a normal volume. "Wake up and tell me your secret."@frank
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Post by Deleted on Oct 1, 2013 22:08:51 GMT
Frank slept not because he wanted to, because he was a slave to sleep. Sleep would play his whims on Frank, and he'd squirm and struggle but obey, every single time, in the end. Sleep's hold on him though, was usually a strong one. It would knock him out if he fought it hard enough, but still be aware enough to be stuck in a trance from time to time. His body turned to sleep upright, arm being jolted by Nae, but himself not really knowing what was happening. It felt like a dream scene. So he shook off her hand, and instead reached for her cheek, stroking it once gently with his rougher fingers. Frank strummed guitars for a living; his hands paid the price. "Don't..." He murmured. "Leave..."— @noemi |
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Post by Deleted on Oct 1, 2013 22:17:51 GMT
GOD FORGIVE ME, I WANT YOU ON YOUR KNEES. Eerie. She was surprised when he sat up, so she leaned back for a second. But then he was touching her face and Nae was overwhelmed even though she didn't want to be. At first, despite herself, she leans into his touch. Nae's free hand hovers somewhere in the air, fingers delicately hanging in hesitation. Then she opened her eyes and swatted his hand away. "Don't do that." she reprimanded him. Who do you think you are? She frowns. @frank
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Post by Deleted on Oct 1, 2013 22:22:40 GMT
Whether or not he registered Nae's rejection would be just a soft blow. Frank still wasn't quite sure what he was doing, but his hand slowly returned on top of his stomach. The only response he gave her was a muffled groan, his eyebrows contracting as if pondering a difficult philosophical question. — @noemi |
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Post by Deleted on Oct 1, 2013 22:26:23 GMT
GOD FORGIVE ME, I WANT YOU ON YOUR KNEES. She sort of wished he'd ignored her and pulled her onto the couch next to him. Then she could pretend it upset her, that she didn't want to be there at all. Nae's eyes flitted to the couch and then back to Frank's face. She shifted her weight from leg to leg. "Was waking you up a bad idea?" If he was even awake. Maybe he was just stuck in limbo. Maybe that's why he made Noémi so mad. He was neither black nor white. He didn't make sense, he just gave her headaches. @frank
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Post by Deleted on Oct 1, 2013 22:30:00 GMT
As if he was answering her question, he suddenly grabbed her sleeve, tugging it, then pulling her on top of him with a strange kind of strength. His breathing began to sound chopped, as if confronting turbulence in his dreams. He wrapped his arms around her though, albeit loosely, and it was only then did he return to a normal, steady breathing. — @noemi |
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Post by Deleted on Oct 1, 2013 23:04:25 GMT
GOD FORGIVE ME, I WANT YOU ON YOUR KNEES. He'd read her mind and she sat with her knees on either side of him. Wordlessly, she pulled the comforter around them, covering Frank's arms and her back. She hooked it behind his neck. "You're not supposed to do that either." Her voice sounded choked up with an emotion that Noémi didn't have a name for. @frank
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Post by Deleted on Oct 4, 2013 22:09:57 GMT
Sunk into the depths of his limbo, Frank felt his limbs grow weak and he watched his inner sub-conscience filter through transparent sheets frittering through the universe. His, in fact, yet, it seemed as if he could still register the warmth in his arms. So he held it tighter, fingers shaking just slightly, barely able to be felt. He groaned in his sleep, murmuring more obscene french. — @noemi |
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Post by Deleted on Oct 4, 2013 23:24:21 GMT
GOD FORGIVE ME, I WANT YOU ON YOUR KNEES. In a way that would remind private to her own thoughts, this was making Noémi unbearably sad. Here Frank was, and how he clutched her and dribbled his nonsense words. Her body felt warm under his attention, but lukewarm - it was something Nae wouldn't understand, how he could have one foot in this world and one in a dream. An avant garde dream, apparently, with vignettes of herself. But here she actually was, and in a moment of thoughtless vulnerability that she was sure to later regret, in his very arms. Despite it Frank felt far away even if he could smell her shampoo. Nae felt heavy and burdensome, she felt nostalgic and her head was cloudy, too. It made the fatigue worse, but she was sure she wouldn't sleep. She rested her forehead on his shoulder. "I truly do hate you," she said, but the words were more for herself than anyone else. @frank
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Post by Deleted on Oct 6, 2013 23:06:21 GMT
Fatigue was a clever game. It was a game with no rules and a predetermined winner and an everlasting loser and Frank always thought he had accepted this rule. But then the game would dangle hope in front of him and laugh as they watched him squirm, trying to reach it. Delaying the time he'd lose consciousness was always one of the main stakes at play. Frank would fall victim to it every time, because then sometimes he'd get good dreams; dreams that were so vivid he swore they were real. Holding a soft white wrist, a gentle, tired voice cleanse his ears and soft hair he never got to run his fingers through. He wanted to touch her, so much, so much that the dreams turned into hallucinations which turned into something he couldn't recognise any more. He was in limbo again, not quite there, but not quite lost, either. So when he woke up, eyelids gently pulling each other up to meet the reflected sunshine off the ceiling, Frank spent a second pondering the meaning of his existence when he registered the weight on his body. It was then his eyes focused on dark, soft vert, and lingering smell of a shampoo with a mild, lingering fragrance. His heart was doing laps around his chest, as if he was seventeen, vert himself and sick with affection. Maybe nothing changed. Nothing at all. His hands hesitantly moved to touch a small bundle of her hair in his palm, careful not to wake her. If she did wake, he'd just have to pretend he was asleep. The wall clock was in sight. It read eight, thirty five. Maybe his body was getting used to a sleeping routine, but getting your hopes too high could only crush you to pieces. — @noemi |
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