literature

N o v o c a i n e

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Literature Text

He’s dreaming again, and in this one the city’s going to burn while the flames reflect in his laughing eyes.

There are war-drums on his feet, their leather cracked and peeled by countless notes. A few scattered figures pass him, vague as black smoke, while the streetlights paint the emptiness around him deep and warm. Buildings rise up, reminding him how small he is, and he laughs because they don’t realize a mouse has more places to hide while the world burns.

[STEPquietSTEPquietSTEP]

He shivers as an overpass blocks out the stars and his drums echo through its concrete cavern. The stars have always scared Niklas, but he stares anyway. He stares until his eyes hurt because at least to fear is to feel something.

And this city is novocaine.

His breath comes as shredded as the knees of his jeans. Something in his throat rattles while the chains around his neck clank like prisoners’ cups on jail cell bars. He spends minutes, maybe hours more that feel like years slipping through the sleeping streets, half blind with bitterness and half conscious under crashing memories.

            she struck him over and over, screaming “BREAK!”
            But he was never one to follow orders.
           

The last thing he’s going to do is break.
He’s going to fly.
But first, he’s going to  b u r n.  

[stepQ u i e t stepQ u i e t step]

Then it’s there before him, the towering creature that was once called a building. He can smell the kerosene on it and he gasps, trying to haul the scent into his lungs, let it fill him. shaking hands scrape his pockets for a moment, then the lighter’s in his hand and he presses it to his lips.  

Then there’s a thumb-stroke across a streak of steel, a rushing roar and a warmth, a warmth like he’s never felt. Everything is flickering, lightshadow lightshadow, and he’s running, stumbling. He’s laughing, really laughing. He can’t feel himself, his legs,and everything is going dark.

**********

Something tears the sleep from him and he jerks awake. He’s splayed on the couch in his loft, covered in sweat with the dream still fresh behind his skull.

“Niki. Niklas.” There it is, the sound that ripped his sleep away. He looks in the direction his name came from and finds August perched on the windowsill. The large panes are opened onto the fire escape and August has one leg draped over the edge, exposed to the city. His sharp profile is half-lit by the strange late-night glow and there’s a bottle in his hand.

The bottle sparks a thirst in Niki and he reaches towards it, pitiful as a feverish child and croaks “August.”

August turns toward his name  and there’s questions in his eyes. His questions tend to scare Niki, who draws back his booze seeking hand and shivers.

He can’t breath, his veins are lead and he’s thirsty, so fucking thirsty.

He shakes as he watches the other boy unfold from his perch with an odd half smile before he’s scooped into those arms and pulled panting to that warm chest. Then there’s a bottle at his lips, and with one sip the fire’s back in his veins, his throat, his lungs. He looks up at his baby, and those gray eyes are wild, wondering and scared.

He feels August against his skin, hears his voice in his ear.

Questions clamoring at his lips, he finally takes a real breath.

And the air is thick with smoke.





                                                                         
This has been written for awhile, i'm just lazy with editing/tweaking.

It came from a vivid daydream I had. If something doesn't make sense, let me know, because I see this perfectly in my head.

[ Yea..."Niklas" is my "muse" LOL. :iconladyhyuga: and :icongessiminika: have already "met" him. XD]
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xxMyChemAnimexx's avatar
WOW.

'she struck him over and over, screaming “BREAK!”
But he was never one to follow orders.'

Purely amazing, love <3