[ The perpetual bedhead is worse after bed, go figure. He's almost tempted to smooth out some of the cowlicks himself, but gazes up towards the ceiling instead, recollecting. ]
Yes. Something like that.
[ The details are too foggy to share, anyway. Just bits of a surreal, strange retelling of all the events so far, twisted from reality as dreams are wont to do—he remembers briefly having some faceless figure melt through his grip as he tries to pick them up, their bodies eaten by smog as what's left of it slips through his fingers and disappears completely.
...He remembers Richie startling awake on their couch for much the same reason once, and wonders if this might follow him into adulthood too. But for now, it's already a distant dream; he's starting to settle. Enough that he can reach out and straighten his glasses for him. There's really no saving his hair, alas. ]
no subject
Yes. Something like that.
[ The details are too foggy to share, anyway. Just bits of a surreal, strange retelling of all the events so far, twisted from reality as dreams are wont to do—he remembers briefly having some faceless figure melt through his grip as he tries to pick them up, their bodies eaten by smog as what's left of it slips through his fingers and disappears completely.
...He remembers Richie startling awake on their couch for much the same reason once, and wonders if this might follow him into adulthood too. But for now, it's already a distant dream; he's starting to settle. Enough that he can reach out and straighten his glasses for him. There's really no saving his hair, alas. ]
What are you doing here?