Ferran Gallagher (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
noblegarnet) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
dreamcrystals2024-01-23 02:08 am
noblegarnet) wrote in dreamcrystals2024-01-23 02:08 am
Entry tags:
dream recording 🔸 gifts
[A boy sits in a comfortable chair in some manner of quiet lounge; the enormous glass windows he's facing show an impressive cityscape at sunset, placing him at least two dozen floors above the ground. He doesn't appear to be enthralled by the view, though; rather, he appears to be nodding off, arms folded on an armrest as he leans his head against them. About the fourth time he closes his eyes, however—]
Ferran!
[A cheerful voice interrupts his doze, and he jolts up immediately to turn towards his father—a businessman with glasses and dark hair, and eyes the same shade of brown as the boy's. He all but jumps to his feet and runs over to the man; thankfully, the room's other occupants are sparse, and he doesn't have to bother worrying whether it's rude to rush past anyone.]
Dad!
Hey, kiddo. [The man ruffles his son's hair as he finds himself the recipient of a hug around the middle.] Sorry our meeting took so long, but a lot happened during our trip, as it turns out. Anyway—are you ready to get home and have a proper meal?
Yeah, definitely. [The boy looks around, curious, but almost a little dismayed.] Where's Mom?
Oh, don't worry, [the man replies before leaning in conspiratorially.] She's just picking up a little something for somebody who's turning thirteen next month...
[Though the boy can't help but grin, the worry isn't completely gone from his eyes, and his father picks up on that easily enough, adding:]
She's not far behind, I promise.
[With a much less enthusiastic okay, the young Ferran steps back to let his father take the lead. Instead of immediately heading towards the exit, however, the man looks out the windows that make up the wall, out into the distance. Ferran follows his gaze.]
Not a bad view, huh? [He raises his eyebrows, glancing at his son.] Lots of architecture to look at from here...
[A favorite topic of Ferran's. But somehow... somehow he can't find the enthusiasm he would have usually responded with.]
I guess so.
[The view is—tainted, somehow. He's seen it so many times, but from a different angle... there have been times where he's looked out over it, wind in his hair, and wondered if it would be better if—]
I'm sorry we couldn't stay for longer.
[Ferran's thoughts are interrupted by the somber voice of his father, and he turns to look at him with some surprise. Yet... he understands. It's not just a reference to their next trip; he knows exactly what it means, and even the next out-of-place statements that come out of his father's mouth don't faze him.]
I know you wanted to take that trip for your graduation... we were all looking forward to it.
[A look of distant grief comes to the boy's eyes. His shoulders fall, hands in loose fists at his sides.]
Yeah. [But unlike all those business trips, this final absence wasn't their choice—not that he'd ever held the former against them in the first place.] ... It's not your fault.
[With a soft smile, his father places a hand on Ferran's shoulder, his voice echoing through the dream, unreal but too important to dismiss as fantasy.]
I'll tell your mother you love her.
[The dream fades before the boy's first tears can fall.]
—
[Well, it's certainly a better dream than the last time; Ferran only ends up lying awake and staring gloomily at his ceiling, rather than being in active distress, until he gets to any messages that come his way.]
Ferran!
[A cheerful voice interrupts his doze, and he jolts up immediately to turn towards his father—a businessman with glasses and dark hair, and eyes the same shade of brown as the boy's. He all but jumps to his feet and runs over to the man; thankfully, the room's other occupants are sparse, and he doesn't have to bother worrying whether it's rude to rush past anyone.]
Dad!
Hey, kiddo. [The man ruffles his son's hair as he finds himself the recipient of a hug around the middle.] Sorry our meeting took so long, but a lot happened during our trip, as it turns out. Anyway—are you ready to get home and have a proper meal?
Yeah, definitely. [The boy looks around, curious, but almost a little dismayed.] Where's Mom?
Oh, don't worry, [the man replies before leaning in conspiratorially.] She's just picking up a little something for somebody who's turning thirteen next month...
[Though the boy can't help but grin, the worry isn't completely gone from his eyes, and his father picks up on that easily enough, adding:]
She's not far behind, I promise.
[With a much less enthusiastic okay, the young Ferran steps back to let his father take the lead. Instead of immediately heading towards the exit, however, the man looks out the windows that make up the wall, out into the distance. Ferran follows his gaze.]
Not a bad view, huh? [He raises his eyebrows, glancing at his son.] Lots of architecture to look at from here...
[A favorite topic of Ferran's. But somehow... somehow he can't find the enthusiasm he would have usually responded with.]
I guess so.
[The view is—tainted, somehow. He's seen it so many times, but from a different angle... there have been times where he's looked out over it, wind in his hair, and wondered if it would be better if—]
I'm sorry we couldn't stay for longer.
[Ferran's thoughts are interrupted by the somber voice of his father, and he turns to look at him with some surprise. Yet... he understands. It's not just a reference to their next trip; he knows exactly what it means, and even the next out-of-place statements that come out of his father's mouth don't faze him.]
I know you wanted to take that trip for your graduation... we were all looking forward to it.
[A look of distant grief comes to the boy's eyes. His shoulders fall, hands in loose fists at his sides.]
Yeah. [But unlike all those business trips, this final absence wasn't their choice—not that he'd ever held the former against them in the first place.] ... It's not your fault.
[With a soft smile, his father places a hand on Ferran's shoulder, his voice echoing through the dream, unreal but too important to dismiss as fantasy.]
I'll tell your mother you love her.
[The dream fades before the boy's first tears can fall.]
[Well, it's certainly a better dream than the last time; Ferran only ends up lying awake and staring gloomily at his ceiling, rather than being in active distress, until he gets to any messages that come his way.]
Sender: Futaba Sakura
Once she's seen the dream, it takes her a bit, but:]
You have these dream too, huh.
no subject
[He would have been sure he wasn't the only one if he'd given it any thought, but it doesn't make him feel much better to know others have suffered similar losses.]
Most of the time when I have ones like these they end worse, though. I didn't mind this one as much.
no subject
...worse, huh? They end... the opposite of this? Sorry, not trying to pry, it's...
[Well. no, that is prying. But.]
Do you... feel guilty?
no subject
[Survivor's guilt, he's sure some would call it. For him—he considers it his responsibility. He could have saved them. He should have...
But that was a long time ago, now. He doesn't mind prying. If it can help someone else, it's the least he can do to answer. And maybe it'll help him, too.]
In one I remember, we were all just at home, talking like nothing was wrong. But I realized they weren't supposed to be there, and suddenly they were gone and the house was in ruins. [It felt so empty.] In this one, at least it felt like I could say goodbye.
no subject
Maybe it was meant to be like that? Kind of a push to not feel so bad about it? Like, you're coming to peace with it, sorta deal.
no subject
Maybe.
[... he does have something of a life here, at least. One where he doesn't want to focus on all of that.]
I think I am tired of hurting so much over it. Is that how the process is supposed to go? You just decide it's been enough?
no subject
no subject
You know, I probably would have gotten a lot of this talk if I'd bothered to go to counseling.
[He really had no excuse. Even Rion—the literal cause of all his nightmares—suggested that he go, at least when the man was pretending to be nice. And he just didn't? He was too caught up in his stupid crusade.]
I hope you had people to help you through it.
no subject
[Not her finest hour... but she's better now.]
But you have that here now, right? I can try to help, though I don't know exactly what happened.
no subject
[Still... can be, on and off. He's improved, though!]
Yeah, having friends and other people to talk to here has been great, even though sometimes it reminds me of how I just ignored my friends back home for too long. [What can you do!]
It's kind of a long story, but [oof.] my house was burned down with me and my parents inside to get to something I had. [Ack. Clear eyes, Ferran.] Everyone said it was an accident, but it wasn't. I found that out for sure almost a year afterwards.