Mist and Demons

                This mist is settling in, and the demons are coming out to play.

                I had another really creepy dream last night that involved secret agents, children with super powers, and a large hall full of people. There was this child who could turn into a “demon” (or rather, into this freaky hairy gigantic spider thing). And it spit out webs and whatever, and apparently was the child with the most awesome superpower. I don’t understand what was wrong with me – well, I did go to sleep at 2 in the morning. I knew that I wouldn’t actually finish my psych journals if I went to sleep and tried to start it the next morning. So I finished it. And I went to bed slightly delirious.

***

                He noticed the brunette sitting in the corner, hidden away between the couch and the wall, as if unwilling to let anyone see him this way. His head was tucked tightly into his arms, and his frame was rocked by shuddering sobs and suppressed cries. Heartache and empathy shot through the younger boy’s heart, as he made his way over to the vulnerable figure.

                As he approached, he felt more and more unsure. What was he supposed to do? What was he supposed to say? He obviously didn’t want anyone to find him, which is why he placed himself in such a small space. The younger one’s dark eyes were filled with indecision. Maybe I should just leave him alone.

                Suddenly, it was quiet. The brunette curled up in that small space had fallen silent. The younger one knelt down in alarm. Was something wrong? He peered at the now peaceful figure intently, and heard soft breathing. Gently, the younger one touched the forehead of his friend, brushing his bangs back. There was no reaction, only a soft, congested breathing. His friend’s crying had exhausted him so much that he had fallen asleep, right in that space.

                Deciding that he couldn’t just leave the sleeping figure there, he dragged the curled up figure by the feet. With a gentle tug and a not-so-gentle yank, the sleeping figure was soon sprawled on the floor by the couch. An annoyed mumbled sound alerted the younger boy that the crying figure was no longer asleep. “What are you doing?” A bleary, irritated pair of eyes met the sheepish ones.

                “Trying to get you on the couch. You fell asleep,” came the reply.

                “So you had to maul me to get me there.”

                “Maybe. You’re heavy, you know that?”

                “Thanks.” Suddenly, the older boy was surprised by the pair of warm arms surrounding him. “What are you doing?” he asked, slightly flustered.

                “Don’t cry. I’m here for you.” A muffled voice came out of the head buried into his chest. “I don’t want to see you cry.”

                The brunette’s heart melted as he gathered up the embarrassed boy in his arms. Happiness burst into his world as he felt the care of the other seep into his veins, warming the very core of his soul. “Thank you.”