He’s wandering through the empty halls of somewhere that looks like Oz and isn’t, something between it and a haunted house from a cartoon, with a layout that makes no sense and changes by the second, impossible room after impossible room, stairways that lead to nowhere. He keeps wandering, circling, backtracking, looking for an exit that doesn’t exist – keeps hitting dead ends, getting trapped somewhere, and having to jump back to an earlier chapter and start all over again.
As nightmares go, it’s more annoying than terrifying, but there’s a creeping sense of dread that permeates the atmosphere: some vague knowledge that something is stalking him in the darkness.
When he jumps back to his pod the last time, he finds himself immobile – pinned to the bed by an unseen force. He’s facing the door, and he finally sees it: the thing that’s been watching him struggle in vain, looming in the doorway, its head tilted unnaturally as it watches him without eyes.
It has something in its hand. Alonzo can’t see it, but he knows it’s a knife. Alonzo doesn’t hear it speak, but he knows it’s coming for his eye – wants to shut out all the lights forever.
He tries to move, but it’s hopeless. He tries to wake himself up, but he can’t. He tries to speak, but his mouth won’t obey.
He tries harder, and finally manages through herculean effort to scream – a long, low sound that starts in the back of his throat and erupts into a wail, catapults him out of the dream and back into real life.
“Hey! Hey hey hey hey hey! It’s okay! It’s okay!”
Ryan, bless his heart, has bolted straight out of bed, teleporting from his bunk into Alonzo’s with lightning speed to grab him into an embrace, squeeze him tightly against his chest, rubbing his back.
“It’s okay. You’re okay. You’re here, with me.”
Alonzo’s scream cuts off the second he realises he’s awake – just a dream. “I’m good.”
“What was it? Nightmare?”
“Someone in the pod,” he mumbles.
“Nobody’s in the pod. Just us.” Ryan strokes his hair. “You’re fine.”
I know, Alonzo thinks. It was just a dream. He doesn’t say anything though, just lets himself relax, laying his head against Ryan’s chest and enjoying the warmth, closeness. When was the last time anyone held him like this? Not for awhile. He starts to think back, then decides he doesn’t care. Don’t think too hard about it. It’s happening now, that’s what matters.
“You’re sweet,” he says instead. “Jumping up like that, all worried.”
“Used to it,” Ryan replies, still gently running his fingers through Alonzo’s hair. “Cyril used to do the same thing.”
Cyril, Cyril, Cyril. The moment is soured somewhat. I’m not your dead brother.
“That’s nice,” he says instead. “You’re a good brother.”
It’s the wrong thing to say – Ryan stops petting him, letting his hand drift down and away. “I’m not,” he responds quietly, and Alonzo internally groans.
Oh, for heaven’s sake.
“Sure you are, baby.” He pulls away before Ryan has the chance to do it himself, sits up properly to face him. “You took care of him best you could. He was lucky to have you.”
Alonzo can’t see Ryan very well in the low light, but he can tell Ryan isn’t convinced, tension radiating off of him in waves. “So what comes next,” he asks, switching gears, catering to his strengths – levity rather than comfort. “You fix me a mug of warm milk? Turn on the nightlight? Sing me to sleep?”
“You want me to sing to you?”
“I mean, if that’s what comes next.” I’d rather you kiss me, but that’s not going to happen. Certainly not if you think I’m your precious Cyril.
Ryan goes silent for a moment, then says, “You’ll laugh.”
Alonzo tuts, offended. “What kind of a person do you think I am, sugar? I wouldn’t laugh.” I’m not a fool. If it’s worth laughing at, I’ll do it later when you can’t hear.
“Nah. You will. I’m not any good at it.”
“Oh, that don’t matter, sweetie. Not about being good at it.” Suddenly this feels important. “Go on, sing me something.”
“Nah.” Ryan starts to get up off the bed. “Go back to sleep.”
“Ryan.” He puts feeling into it, makes himself sound pitiful. “I really want you to.” Ryan hesitates, so he moves in for the kill. “They were trying to take my eyes...”
Ryan sits back down. Good boy.
“You get a lot of dreams like that?” he asks, stretching his right leg out onto the bed, the other hanging off the side.
“All the time.” It’s not...completely untrue. “Ever since I lost the one, can’t stop thinking about what might happen if I lost the other.” Again, not technically a lie, but it wasn’t really the case these days – Alonzo had gone through his manic paranoia regarding the seeming inevitability of full blindness years ago, back when the accident had first happened. The more time that passed without him having another, the less he worried about it; besides, he’d planned so much for the possibility that it no longer seemed as nightmarish an outcome.
Which was why it was odd that it had turned up in the dream tonight.
Prison, he thinks dismissively, same way he always did when something came up emotionally that he couldn’t explain. Normal to feel a little off-kilter.
“Don’t know if I’ll be able to go back to sleep,” he continues, laying back down – briefly considers resting his head in Ryan’s lap, but decides that would be a bridge too far. He settles for tapping his finger lightly against Ryan’s knee. “Anything you might do to help would be greatly appreciated.”
Trap, set. He lies in wait as the prey investigates.
Ryan is quiet for such a long time that Alonzo nearly dozes off again despite himself, almost jerks back into consciousness when Ryan’s reply breaks the silence. “Don’t laugh.”
“I won’t,” Alonzo promises, scooting a little bit closer. The finger tapping Ryan’s knee had relaxed into an open palm resting just below it while he’d drifted back towards unconsciousness, and – more interestingly – hadn’t been brushed away, so Alonzo leaves it where it is.
Another long silence, then Ryan’s voice begins, low and halting, “Over in Killarney –”
It’s not very good – unconfident, breathy, a little out of tune – but it is sweet. Alonzo moves in even closer, daring to touch the tip of his nose to the side of Ryan’s thigh before closing his eyes again, listening, then opening them again as he feels the drowsiness in his head threaten to overpower his desire to stick around for the duration of the song.
“Too-ra, loo-ra, loo –”
The sound suddenly cuts off, and Alonzo blinks. “Song over?” he says, lifting his head slightly, just in time to see Ryan swipe at his eyes.
Oh, for heaven’s sake.
“All good?” he asks nonchalantly.
“Yep,” Ryan replies shortly, then gets up, pulling himself back up into his bunk. “Night.”
No. No, no, no. This isn’t a satisfying conclusion, at all.
Alonzo rolls out of bed and stands up, facing Ryan’s bunk – resting his elbows on the mattress, chin in his hands. “Nice song,” he remarks. Ryan doesn’t move, doesn’t respond, just remains curled up in the fetal position, his back to Alonzo.
“Shame about your voice, though,” he prods, and that gets a response.
“You asked, jizzbag,” comes the sharp retort. Oops, wrong play. Alonzo switches gears again.
“Just teasing, sweetheart.” He drums his fingers against his cheek. “It was cute.”
“K.” Conversation over. Alonzo gives it one more shot.
“Want me to return the favor?”
“Nope.”
Well, he tried. “Alright,” Alonzo says, beginning to duck back into his bunk. “Sweet dr –”
“I mean –”
Alonzo nearly bangs his head on the side of the bedframe as he straightens again.
“If you want to, I guess. Sure.”
“Oh.” Hadn’t actually been expecting the offer to be accepted. “Alright.” He thinks for a moment, then presses his hands into the mattress, preparing to lift himself up onto the top bunk. “Move over.”
Ryan glances over his shoulder, and there's a long moment where Alonzo wonders if he overshot before Ryan acquiesces, rolling over onto his back. Alonzo wriggles in beside him, then mirrors him, folding his hands over his stomach. Their shoulders touch, but Ryan doesn't move away, so neither does Alonzo.
“Let’s see,” Alonzo says, then lapses into his own silence, preparing the air, taking long, slow breaths. Humming a little to warm up.
“Don’t got all night,” Ryan says after a moment, ruining his concentration.
“Patience, darling.” He hums a little more, then begins –
“Bésame, bésame mucho
Como si fuera esta noche la última vez
Bésame, bésame mucho
Que tengo miedo perderte, perderte, perderte después...”
His good eye is facing Ryan, and Alonzo watches him as he sings – Ryan staring up at the ceiling, expressionless.
“Quiero tenerte muy cerca
Mirarme en tus ojos
Verte junto a mi
Pienso que tal vez mañana
Yo ya estaré lejos
Muy lejos de ti...”
Ryan’s shifted, watching him back now, so he puts a little more feeling into it.
“Bé-sa-me, bésame mucho
Como si fuera esta noche la última vez
Bésame, bésame muuucho
Que tengo miedo perderte, perderte después.”
The darkness hangs heavy around them as he finishes. Ryan keeps watching him.
“What’s that mean?” he asks.
“You want the full translation?”
“No, just. In general.”
“Mmm.” Alonzo thinks for a moment. “Just an old love song,” he settles on. “Pretty, don’t you think?”
“It’s okay.” He looks away again, back up at the ceiling. “If you’re into that kinda thing.”
“You don’t like love songs?”
“They’re fine.” Ryan shrugs. “Kinda pointless here, though.”
“Mmm. I suppose.” Alonzo changes the subject. “Cyril any good at singing?”
Ryan snorts. “Nah. Worse than me.”
“Wow. Impressive.” Good thing he’s dead, then, Alonzo thinks, and supresses a chuckle. Don’t say that one. He figures the party’s over, time to go back to his bunk, but he doesn’t feel like moving, so he doesn’t – just closes his eyes and leaves the ball in Ryan’s court. Kick me out if you m –
"Hey." He opens his eyes to meet Ryan's, their faces suddenly close, Ryan's hand reaching out to lightly caress his cheek. "It was nice," he says. "I liked it."
I like you, Alonzo tries to say, but his mouth won't obey. Ryan leans in -
He wakes up to the buzzer sounding, overhead light glaring, Ryan nudging him. “Count,” he says. “Get out of the way.”
“Sorry,” Alonzo murmurs, rolling out onto the floor, staggering a little bit as he rubs sleep from his eyes. Ryan hops down behind him, walks over to the sink and turns on the tap.
“Lucky the hacks didn’t come by again,” he says as he grabs his toothbrush. “Would have been pretty pissed off if I’d gotten woken up again ‘cuz of you.”
Alonzo starts making his bed, sheets cold against his fingers. “Would’ve left if you said.”
A pause. “I fell asleep,” Ryan replies finally. He spits into the sink. “Hey, think nice thoughts today, alright, ese? No more nightmares tonight. I need my beauty sleep.”
“For sure,” Alonzo responds dryly. A brief snatch of Ryan’s singing floats through his head, and he smiles to himself a little. “I will.”
---
A/N: The song Alonzo sings is Bésame Mucho by Consuelo Velázquez. Fun fact: she wrote the song having never kissed anyone, just what she imagined it might be like. Cute, don't you think? I do.