#22 - 2 AM: Claudio Kilgannon

[thefolksbetween]

Who: Claudio Kilgannon
What: #22 – 2 Am
When: Unknown - Written mid December
Where: Siren’s Port - sirenspullverse but not game canon
Rating: PC-13?
Note: Strange events and dreams after Christmas, thoughts, ponderings, trauma on a guitar. As always, rough, unedited, and fastly done. Man I really need to learn to care enough to look back over my shit huh. Oh well...

~*~
What the hell was he thinking?!

Perhaps you’re not thinking! That’s a major problem with you, you know.

“Thank’s Dad!” he huffed to himself, catching his breath while leaning on the inside of the apartment complex door. Why hadn’t he simply ducked through it like normal? Why did he dumbly stand there at two in the morning fumbling with a set of keys that he hardly, if ever, used?

Clearly something was on his mind.

That was no excuse for walking the street at night in the darkness with out a thought about safty though. When had he gone visible again? The ticket taker on the Subway poked him and started to write him a ticket for not having one. Didn’t he slip off that and escape into invisibility?

He couldn’t remember.

Hell he didn’t even remember why he came home at this odd time. Why wasn’t he home already or at work? That just goes to show you how worn out you are. You’re letting everything get to you. “Shut up...” he whispered to himself, not even sure which voice that was in the back of his mind. It almost sounded like him that time. “Shit...”

He pushed off the door, safe inside. Why had he felt so nervous out there anyhow? Nothing was chasing him, nothing was after him. He wasn’t invisible but nothing came for him anyhow. It was just one of those weird feelings you get when walking alone maybe. That kind of tingle that raises the hairs at the back of your neck, along your arms and legs. That tingle that tells you that you should be running and not sauntering along at a casual pace.

Claudio brushed it off though, rubbing a hand across the back of his neck and sighing, slumped as he started up the right flights of steps. His feet felt heavy, his head felt heavy, hell.... he felt heavy in every possible way. Had it really been that long of a day?

Morning had come. He got up, showered, did the tooth thing, shaved and dressed. In that order. He took a train to the Underground Mall. he did … stuff there. Work perhaps? He spent a day working at the theater. Then there was the break that he spent at the park, staring at some dark haired boy playing a guitar. It reminded him of Trauma and that damn piece of shit he had, plucking over and over at the same damn tune and messing up in the same ways. It wasn’t that it bothered him but the boy in the park reminded him of it.

After a while he found himself just dazing on the park bench, feeling the cold air of the Underground hit his face. Was it cold? It was warmer in the underground then it was in the rest of this god forsaken island. Still, he felt the chill.

He felt a chill all day as a matter of fact. That hair raising one, like something was watching. Like he had to run. It was with him all day, and it seemed to follow him into the night.

One more flight of steps to go.

When he hit the landing for their apartment he stopped at the door, leaning on it. Inside he could hear that stupid guitar being plucked, the same tune over again. His head rested on the door, a hand pressed to it, thinking. In his mind he hummed along, realizing he knew the song by now.

He smiled.

The boy in the park had been annoying in his constant plucking, fumbling and repeating the same line, sitting on the small patch of grass outside the Major’s club, with a drink so early in the afternoon t his side and two hippie chicks lounging beside him smoking and chatting about the new purse the other one had. There was that annoying feel of ‘better then you’ emitting from him even though Claudio was sure he could steal that guitar and play a tune better and faster then that guy could.

The difference here was that Trauma didn’t give odd any of that annoying crap. Just... a guy playing a tune. Not to play it for money or attention or anything like that but... but he just did it. A simple tune. Nothing underlining it. Nothing hidden behind it. He thought to himself.

With that he fell through the door. More stepped through it, coming into the house, tossing his keys to the side and sitting his bag down. Visible for a change.

The boy sat by the window in the back of the apartment, near the dining room and kitchen. The Darkness could be seen outside, but after so damn long of living here it seemed normal now. Almost pretty. It was aining out, something that surprised him really as he hadn’t been wet at all. Did it just start? None the less the boy was seated near the window with the guitar in his lap, plucking along and off in his own world.

He couldn’t help but feel that the guitar helped relax the boy. He liked that.

Pulling his coat off he hung it on a hook, pulled his hood back and tugged at his sleeves, wandering closer to the boy and his back. His own reflection clearly seen in the window the boy faced. “Hey...”

He got no answer back at first, just a small nod, the boys blue eyes raising up to look at hte window, like a mirror, his reflection gazing back.

“Getting better.” Claudio said, a mild compliment. He moved behind the boy, slide in behind the chair and sat on the table, leaning forward so his arms crossed on Trauma’s back lightly, his head falling forward, resting on his neck. He couldn’t help be catch the scent of the boy; a fresh washed comfortable smell that he’d gotten used to in these past months.

“No I’m not.” came his voice, a bit flat, fingers plucking along lazy like on the strings, eyes still looking at the glass, clearly not looking through it but behind him with it.

Claudio lifted his head, resting it on the boys shoulder, next to his neck and looked at him through the glass as well, using it to see what was in front of him but could not be seen otherwise. “Better then last week.” He smirked, just a bit at the reflection.

It was strange but he found it comforting to sit here like this, close to someone again. He was still having trouble with being close to anyone, but this wasn’t bad. He was... okay with it, really. Sharing time and space with Trauma wasn’t a bad thing after all.

What was a bad thing was the odd feeling he got as he looked at those blue eyes, looking back to him. The playing got a little better, a little more cheerful on the guitar. The eyes stared at him and there was a smile on the lips under them, barely seen in the reflection.

“It’s so nice of you to think of me still. When was the last time you had me in your thoughts, your dreams?”

The reflection trend a bit brighter, thinner and younger. There was a blondness to the image as well. He drew back, hands on the figures back, surprised to see Trauma still there, playing. What the hell... the hell am I seeing? He thought to himself, but Trauma spoke up as if he heard it.

“What you want to see. What you miss.” But it wasn’t his voice at all. He pulled away, sitting the guitar down and turning in his seat, sliding his hands up over Claudio’s knees and thighs and leaning on him, looking up at him seated on the table. “Why don’t you think of me anymore?” Her voice came softly... smooth and curious.

Blinking his eyes h looked into Newo’s face, her perfect blond hair falling over her shoulders, the baggy black shirt that Trauma had just been wearing no lose around her neck, a peek of cleavage could be seen. She smiled brightly, warm like a sunny day. He’d always found himself lost in that smile, those eyes. No matter how bad he felt she could turn that around.

“Come on Grover. Could you forget me that easily?”

“S’not funny, Trauma... how are you doing this?” He mumbled, drawing back from the figure. She crawl closer, coming up to snuggle him, pouting into his chest. He could feel the cold of her hands slide over his belly and under his shirt, like she would when they sat on the hood of her car and star gazed.

“I’m not trying to be funny, Grover. I miss you. You forgot all about me here. Found someone else to cuddle and watch the stars with.” She complained, the pout reaching her voice while she nuzzled her cheek into his shirt.

He was sure his heart stopped. Just... right there in his chest, hovering in a mess of blood and fluids and insides, it just stopped. The beating had stopped and the flow of blood stopped. He was freezing cold and scared. Why be scared though? It was just Newo, right? The girl who owned his heart once before. Long before he showed up here... ages ago.

“Was I so easy to forget? You found someone new so simply?” She said, slinking up closer, tighter to his chest, the full lipped pout driving guilt right to his still frozen heart.

“No! T-that’s not... that’s not it at all. I haven’t forgotten you but... but it was safer for you. I mean, you should be safe now and... and here I’m just... I mean it’s not what you might think, Junesong.” Why’d he used that name again? He hadn’t even thought of her in that term for ages now.

Clearly he must be dreaming.

He could feel her climb into his lap, wrapping her arms around him and sitting there, perfect body pressed close. My how he missed being close to people. “You forgot of me. Replaced me, didn’t you? Why didn’t you come back for me? Did you ever return to see if I was okay?”

“I would! I mean I want to! I mean... I would if I could but I can’t leave here. I can’t go back home anyhow and... and it’s safer for you this way. It’s...” she swallowed. There were times that all he wanted to do was go home just to check on her. To make sure she was alright. When was the last time he truly thought of her though?

It had been a while. Someone else had helped take up those worries and thoughts. Time... it passes even in this place.

“Trauma is...”

“He doesn’t care for you like I cared for you. Come home, baby.” she stroked his cheek, leaning in to kiss him.

A pain sprouted into his chest, heavy and sharp. Very sudden. He blinked, gasped and nearly fell over the table. Only to find that he wasn’t falling over at all but sitting up, in a bed. He felt a cold chill run down his back, his hand coming up to feel warm fur resting on his chest. The short haired bundle of cat named Apollo was trying to curl up, needling his chest.

He was sure that Apollo was staring at him, dark eyes ever knowing, watching and perhaps a bit of a proud smirk on it’s kitty lips. Apollo knew what he was doing. He saved him from the dream.

It wasn’t a nightmare, really. He could never call something that held Newo in it as a nightmare... but he didn’t feel comfortable either. It didn’t feel like a proper dream.

Guilt maybe? A guilty conscious?

He took a deep breath, held it, sighed while looking up at the ceiling and silently tried to get his now racing heart to slow down. Just a dream. You aren’t crazy, Claudio. You aren’t. His eyes turned to stare at his NetVice, the letters in small print in the corner flashing 2 am. He groaned, closing his eyes a moment later when he realized he had barely been asleep at all.

A rustling at the side of the bed made him turn, seeing the dark haired boy sleeping still. It had been a few months now, sharing the same bed like this. Sharing... more then that. Maybe that was why his head had gone into panic mode. It had been a while now since he thought about or even worried about Newo.

He sighed, carefully moving Cat... Apollo to the side, resting the small cat on his own pillow, then shifted closer to the other boys back. A cold chill hit him again, pulling on the blankets and snuggling tighter under them. Curling closer to the boys back for warmth. For comfort. The fresh scent like in the dream hit him once again, like only hours ago he had showered.

Oddly comforting he closed his eyes, trying to will his mind to think of the right person this time. After all, it had been ages now and time did continue on.