Title: [None Given] - Prologue: Fever Dream Status: Characters: Rating: Classification: Author: Anonymous Prologue: Fever Dream ....but the thought of coming back to my apartment alone with my pizza, watching a movie on my tv, undisturbed, with no judgment for my appearance or the place I live, it fills me with relief. “It’s all I ever wanted.” “It’s all I’ll ever need.” “Goodbye, Fang. It was nice seeing you again, I suppose.” “Because I haven’t changed.” “People never change.” As I lay down against the bed frame, I reach my big toe to the Xrox power button. A roaring sound of the fans come to life as I pull out my pocket serotonin from my jeans. “Might as well delete the photos.” Muttering to no one in particular I begin to scroll through what seems to be a myriad of photos and videos, I land on the first image we’ve ever taken together. It was an image of Fang taking a ‘Selfie’ with me in the background trying to take the phone back. Her snarky look towards the camera really made the photo. Staring at the image for Raptor Jesus knows how long I click the ‘Select All’ text, but at a standstill on whether to tap ‘Delete’. My eyes shift to the first image again, staring at it longer, I press my thumb against the ‘Deselect’ and let out a rather exaggerated breath of anxiety. “Goodbye, Fang..?” … Can I live with that? “He’s out there again…” I eye the man outside, the dino across from me sighs and I turn to him. He places his cleaning cloth aside and move over to the register to get a better view of the said man. “Him again? This is starting to get sad… What’s his deal?” “Dunno, maybe I should talk to ‘em. See what’s up.” I shrug following his eyes back to the figure, but back to the bartender to see his look of disapproval. “You sure you can deal with this alone?” The bartender Allosaurus says with a lean forward laying his arms on top of the register. His tired posture seems clear that his shift was not usually at this time, but the concern in his voice seems quite clear that he has care for his customers. Despite how shit everything has been and probably is going to be in a few seconds, I am glad to rely on someone in case shit goes south. I wave off the air and go back looking at the stranger in front of the store who has their back against the window. “I’ll scream if anything happens. It might be a fan or something anyways.” My intention was a joke, but I realize how many other wired encounters artists probably had when in this same situation. The Allosaurus probably was telepathic as his reaction was pretty worrisome, but still manages to relax himself. He straightens himself off the register and places his rough scaled claws on an isolated glass to continue his regular cleaning. “Right, I’ll be out quick, just yell my name.” He says as he taps on his name tag. ‘Micheal’ is printed on the tag. The leather strap reminds me of the weight of my guitar as I adjust it against my back. As I make my way over to the entrance, I have no thoughts of my safety. If this person was going to stab me, I am almost willing to fight to the death. If I die, so be it, it’s not like anyone will be waiting for me at my funeral. My mom and dad will be there for sympathy, but I know how they really feel about me. If it was Naser or any of them preppy kids, it would be a whole county crying to them. I wouldn’t even be surprised if they deadnamed me in the news or on my grave. “Lucy Found dead on the corner of Lake Ave.” “Here lies Lucy Aaron”. Christ, what am I even doing? Fantasizing my own death, really? I should just- “Fang?” In a moment, I realize that I am in front of the mystery fan that wanted to see me after my performance. Or at least that is what the manager gave word to me during my break. How did I get out here so quick? I don’t remember opening the door? Did I get lost in my thoughts again and went autopilot? What-.. Why do they look so fucking sad? Wait, that voice-... Wait, that fucking face, voice, that-.. No… “Hey, Fang. I, uh, wanted to check in how you were doing? I’ve had a lot of trouble choosing if I should try to see you again and I am still unsure if I should be doing this, but it's all I got now.” Anon twiddles his thumbs around, not completely making eye contact with me. Looking into his eyes I see how tired he is, depleted of energy. How long has he been trying to track me down? God, he doesn’t even look like how he used to. Why is he not looking at me? It can’t be because of guilt, is he going to give me some more half ass lies? Is he going to break my heart by saying how I still need to be fixed? Guess what, Asshole. I know, and I won’t be getting fixed anytime soon. “It’s been four years and, I dunno, maybe we should catch up or something? I’m thinking of getting a jo-...” Anon’s voice diminishes as my thoughts start connecting dots. Wait, his clothes, I’ve seen it before. He’s been here outside waiting at this spot yesterday and the day before. I just passed by thinking he is some fucking regular. Questions flare to my mind; How long has he been waiting for me to “talk” to him? Has the manager tried to ignore him? Overall, the questions can only be simplified to ‘Why’. “-so I thought, hey why not? It doesn’t hurt to try, your life is empty enough! The worst Fang can say is-” “Stop.” That catches his attention. He turns to me with a surprised look. Raptor Jesus, this man looked like he hasn’t slept in days. Now it’s MY turn to put YOU on the fucking spot. “What’s your deal, Anon? Waiting here for three days in a row not saying squat in hopes that I would come to you?” I should’ve walked past him to let this asshole know he is nothing to me. Anon showing a familiar alertness as he straightens himself up away from the glass, a worried look splained across his face. “No, I get it, Fang. You’re angry. But I was drunk at that time! I- I didn’t mean anything to-” “First of all, you bumbling jerk, you don’t “get it”. You never tried to and I don’t expect this time to be any fucking different. If you couldn’t get that while being my boyfriend, you wouldn’t get it from being away from me for FOUR FUCKING YEARS!” saying ‘boyfriend’ left a disgusting taste on my tongue when it came to the context of Anon. “F-fang, we’re out in pub-” “Second, what kind of fucking selfish asshole do you think you are to even THINK to see me after what YOU did?! Or even better yet, to ‘catch up’? I hate myself to the fucking core, but making it up with you would be a different kind of torture!” I don’t care how loud I am. You did this to me, you took my life away from me. “No, Fang, I-” “Third, maybe you don’t even deserve to know this one, but fuck it! I really did love you! You toyed with me, even when I shared my weakest and vulnerable moments with you! Were the nice things you said about me lies too, Anon? Did you ever love me? Did you ever really care?!” Fuck this… Memories of him and I, the most treasured moments, were they all a facade? Do I deserve this? Where did this ringing sound come from? Is it going to stop soon? Should I just- I immediately rush my shaking taloned claws to my wings and begin scratching at it furiously as if preening season came early. Of course, it’s only been a weekly thing for me if I don’t have my medicine. “Damnit, Anon, why-” “Fang, please! Let me try to-” A warm sense of air starts to become more potent and closing on one of my arms, flicking my head up, I see Anon trying to reach over to my arms with care in his speed. Still think he can woo me with his display of basic affection? Are you fucking serious? Fuck. That. Just as quick as my emotions switch from sorrow to hostility, I swing a hand against his arm rejecting his savior complex. “Don't. Touch. Me.” Words spat out like venom. For him? It only would make sense. Anon now finally showing some emotion, he retreats back against the wall and brings his palms against it. Eyes widen, but now his attention dead set on me, fear or not, I have his attention. A step closer to the shook prey and his eyes darted away to the ground. That whole fucking year… “I thought you were listening to me when I tore my heart open for you! I thought you meant every hug and kiss you gave me! Every embrace I felt was me giving you someone who I would never expose and you gave fuck all! Just so you can tell me everything I take so much care for is some overractionary bullshit… and only for you to “fix” me.” The man’s eyes slowly climbed up to look at me or rather behind me like I was some sort of ghost. So fucking distant away from me. Are you kidding me, Anon?! Tears start to swell up, rage of emotions swirl around my heart and choke my throat. IS HE EVEN- I swear everything around me was tinted red as I grabbed his collar, pushing him further to the pane glass. The ringing grew louder. “Are you even listening?!” I cry out to him, not bothering to look over to the prudent guard that is behind the bar counter inside. Silence is the response I receive after his gaze seems to be more set onto me and nothing past me. My grip loosens around his rough textured turtleneck. Warm droplets fall down on my cheek; feeling the weakest I have in four years. “Did you ever listen to me..?” The human hesitates. Mouth open to say something, anything, but nothing comes out. Say something. Something. Please… … Why did I even bother to try? What did I even want him to say? More words that carried no weight? Saying he still loves me? Saying that he is a mess without me in his life? In all this time, Anon shares as much of a similarity as a bed written patient. Not moving, not talking, just looking at me like a fucking imbicile. Stop staring. … Anger doesn’t even begin to describe the swirling emotions in me as I am yet offered any excuse or answer to my questions. It’s hard to breathe, but maybe if I get rid of him… It will all be over. The nightmares, the memories, him. My hand turns taloned as I drag it slowly to his throat, so weak, so vulnerable, would be so easy. Fuck you and everything you stand for, you piece of shit. Anon's eyes change look as he quickly turns his head over to my suddenly stopped motioning hand and back to my eyes. His pleading and somehow empty eyes. “I’m so… sorry, Fang.” The gravity of the situation hits me like a train. Wait, am I really going to kill Anon? Did I actually thought of murder? Premeditated? No, I was actually going to. I retract myself, putting space between the both of us. Christ… I thought Anon would use this as an advantage to picking up a fight or run, instead he slides himself down against the glass and lay onto the concrete floor. This- this was a waste of time. I shouldn’t have even given him the chance. While he cowers on the floor, I’ll make my parting words; something I have been keeping in my chest for a long time. “You want to help me? Get over me, and most importantly get over yourself. You’ve fucked up my life already like Naomi wanted you to, so mission accomplish. Piss off.” I turn from the collapsed and unmoving man, wiping the tears off my cheeks and eyes. “Asshole…” My sniffling did little to hide my pain, and my make up, I am sure it is ravaged now from the tears. Good, he deserved to see every ugly bit of me in that exchange. I twist my heels to a direction on the sidewalk, not many people outside to even witness it, in a way it was just me and Anon in that moment. Still, I begin to walk away from the limp Anon, still muttering out my thoughts. “What did I even see in him?” I didn’t even want to turn to see him still there, I didn’t care. If he was crying, he deserved it. I just want.. I want… …