haus of montague
May 18, 2024 11:55:05 GMT -5
Post by dars on May 18, 2024 11:55:05 GMT -5
W E S
In his dream, Waverly has two heads. Everything starts with him lying in his bed in the dark, when his door begins to slowly creep open. The light from the hallway pours into the room and he sees her silhouette standing in the doorway, wearing her pajamas and slowly stepping inside his room. Once the door is closed behind her and the light is gone, she begins to move strangely, jerking and twisting. He thinks at first she's just thrashing her head around from the strange angles he can glimpse in the dark. Then he realizes her head is turning, turning, turning. It reaches the point where she shouldn't be able to turn anymore, and continues on until her head is on backwards. Only there is another face on the other side, peering at him for the briefest moment before, again, she turns her head until the original front is facing him again.
"Waverly?"
This is the face he remembers most of his sister: pretty, and clean, and deeply sad. The look in her eyes in unsettlingly kind despite the situation. She opens and closes her mouth as if in conversation, but there is no sound. She seems to grow more urgent when he cannot understand, stepping further into his room with her hands stretched toward him.
Lightning flashes, her head turns, and now its the other eyes peering at him again. Suddenly her hair is wet, clinging to her face. Her chest rises and falls in shallow breath, her clothes soaked with rain, smears of dirt on her forehead and chest. "No. No. No."
He realizes too late what is happening, his gaze falling to the length of rope in her hands. From the moment he sees it, he feels it wrapped around his throat. Constricting his airflow, choking the life out of him. He gasps and chokes, clawing at his neck to remove a a scar that cannot heal, and his sister's head begins to spin and spin and spin, screaming louder and louder and louder. And then he wakes up. His eyes open and he's on the ground next to his bed, a different bed than the one in his dream. A different room. A different house. A different Wes, and yet. He presses his hands to his throat and swears he can still feel the marks of his father's disappearance choking him from the inside out.
Then sun is up, he tells himself, I've made it through the night.
As always, it helps. He falls back onto his bed, wiping a sheen of sweat from his brow and sighing. Slowly, he feels himself begin to reclaim his own body again, his fingertips less numb and his breathing growing steady. A knock from the door, Halston's vocal fry lisping through the door:
"Everything okay? I heard a crash."
"I'm fine," he calls, hoping his voice doesn't betray how shaky he still feels.
He stands a few moments later and dresses himself, uselessly fluffing the mound of dark curls on his head as if he's doing anything to console them into place, and waits until the flush has completely gone from his cheeks before he leaves the room.
He can tell by the wonderful scents of frying meat that Venus must be making breakfast for everyone, even though a quick glance at the clock alerts him to the fact that it is well past noon. Blaine smokes a cigarette on the balcony, nods quietly as Wes wonders by the cracked doorway. Gany is steeping some tea and observing the still-wet painting he must've woken up hours ago to add the finishing touches to. Halston is reading the latest issue of Victor's View while sitting at the kitchen island, and though his spine stiffens when Wes enters the room he pretends not to notice and continues reading.
"Phew," Venus says, no more than glancing up at him before an eyebrow quirks, "Rough night, baby?" He does his best to minimize, shrugging his shoulders and taking a seat. "What do you mean?" She seems like she wants to press further, but her eyes look in Halston's direction for a brief moment and she nods.
"Well, I would imagine y'all are all tired after last night. Grand prize, thank you!"
She sets a cup of coffee in front of him. He'd completely forgotten that they even competed last night. The win was, of course, not in any way because of him, a fact he was not too humble to admit. Everyone knows that Halston's costumes and Blaine's dancing are usually their strongest assets on a ballroom night. It just so happens that none of the rest of them royally screwed anything up this time and they ended up winning.
"Three in a row!" Halston retorts, sticking his tongue out without taking his eyes off the pages, "Oh, Wes, I'm supposed to go pick up some fabric from Lesoine's today if you wouldn't mind coming? Mom has plans."
Venus walks over in that moment, setting a pan of fried ham onto the table.
"Yeah, I have a conference today at the school to try and reenroll Blaine for regular classes."
"Sure," Wes says, making his plate, "I could use the fresh air, anyway."
