[ Truth be told, Gallagher hadn't been expecting Sunday to hear him, but he's glad he can reach him even if their connection is tumultuous. He tries, and tries, and tries to convey all the little things he wants to tell him, that if he had any other choice, he would have never left him, but these things are out of his control. They always have been. He's regretful, he feels sorry. He wishes he can turn back time.
Even leaving the statue behind took the most of his power. He wonders how long it'll remain corporeal.
But I got you outta there, didn't I? So at least in that part, he didn't lie. I just can't be with you.
If only the statue could move, because he'd like to nudge Sunday's face right now, to make sure he isn't crying over an old Hound like him.
I don't know how long I can stay, but I'm here for the time being. No need to be sad. ]
Edited (pressed enter too fast..) 2024-08-09 00:52 (UTC)
( He speaks somewhat in a hushed tone as if he were trying to keep the conversation secret. Who knows if the Express can hear what he's getting up to in here, speaking with this statue. Who knows if they're aware Gallagher can exist outside of Asdana?
The answer is right in front of him. It is possible. They can be together, but Sunday is so fragmented and exhausted, he's so stubborn he can't take a step back to realize the full picture or find another solution. It isn't easy stepping out of someone else's dreams, or shoes.
Defeated, he leans closer until his forehead rests against the statue's snout. )
[ There's nothing more he wants to do than lean against Sunday, pulling him into his embrace until he's no longer concerned over such things. Sadly, that isn't possible right now, so all he can really do is hope that his words will eventually be enough.
I know you didn't, but I didn't want the Family to ruin you either.
He knows that if he stood there and did nothing, then the Family will keep Sunday locked up in a cage for the rest of his life. Sunday has already done his time, and the last thing Gallagher wants for him is to never have a chance to do better. The Nameless will make sure he'll be fine in the end, even if it means Gallagher will no longer be able to remain by his side.
( He speaks lowly, heart wrenching as much as the frown on his face. It didn’t matter if he spent the rest of his life in the Dreamflux, that was a reality he could accept- one he was beginning to feel comfortable with.
So of course he can’t help it when he feels rage burn inside him, unable to reach into the statue to choke the voice out of it.
He stands up again, staring down the statue before turning his back on it. At least sleep is a good idea, and maybe they’re close enough to the memoria that he’ll be able to access the sweet dream. He’ll be damned if he lets him go this easily.
Exhaustion takes him quick once he’s in his bed. It’s cold and the sheets are clean, but they don’t smell like the ones in his mansion. He grips them, closing his eyes, halo flickering until he awakens on the other side.
The Dreamflux Reef…
He should be near the center, but things appear bleak and worn down. There’s one way to find out if he’s in the right place.
So he makes it to Gallagher’s door, grabbing the handle swiftly and violently to let himself in. )
[ Gallagher doesn't expect Sunday to show up here once again. It's all over his face when he looks at the other man, surprise weaved in nicely with an uncharacteristic exhaustion he quickly tries to hide. It's not only the streets that look worn down and bleak, but Gallagher himself too. It takes a lot of energy to keep his existence as it is, and it'll only become harder as time passes on.
Still, a smile graces his lips easily. ]
Sunday. Fancy seeing you here.
[ He can tell the other man is mad. How their conversation ended earlier tells him that much, but he greets him warmly and welcomes him in despite it all. ]
I would've figured you'd dream about someone else rather than coming back here.
[ After all, Gallagher brought him to the Express just so he never has to be caged by the Dreamscape ever again. ]
( Facing him again like this makes all their time apart redundant. What matters stands in front of him, withering away into the ripping dream coming undone at the edges. As angry as he is, he can't stand watching Gallagher like this. A blink away from an unknown void.
Yet there's that cold fire in his eyes whenever he looks up at him, offended. )
Where else would I go?
( He lost his credibility in the sweet dream and he's lucky he can manage to sneak into this deep dream without alerting the Family. His eyes narrow at him, he wants to unleash this fury, he wants to teach this old dog how wrong he truly is but he can't stand to kick a man who's already down. )
Don't wake me up.
( He gets closer to him, reaching to cradle his gloved palm against his face. )
Hah, how the tables have turned. He must truly look so pitiful if Sunday is telling him that. The smile on his face barely stays, so he leans into the other man's touch, wanting to feel his warmth despite this being a sweet dream. He doesn't want to move away from here. He doesn't want to lose this. ]
Then, are you planning on saving this old Hound?
[ If Sunday doesn't want to wake up, if he doesn't know where else to go— then Gallagher wants to be selfish and keep him right here. Both his arms wind around the Halovian's waist, pulling him closer to his body. His head rests against the man's shoulder, not wanting to move away. ]
I'd let you, if it was possible. [ His fate can't be changed, or so he believes. ] Just stay like this for a while.
( He feels too warm to be a simple conglomerate of falsehoods, too kind to exist for the sake of another and not himself. There is a real Gallagher somewhere in his heart. Sunday draws his wings back and presses his face against his chest, clutching onto his clothes. He devours his scent, giving him the time he needs to reassess. )
You can't leave, not after the moments we've shared. I relinquished everything to you that night, Gallagher. Why would you be so... Selfish.
( He's not arguing, exactly, the words are so weak in his throat, fading as quick as he tightens his arms around him. The thought of losing him is painful enough and he has nobody else to vent. )
[ Gallagher's own grip around the other tightens up too, and he has no intentions of letting him go. Not yet, not now. Not while they still have time before he inevitably has to face his own curtain's call. His story might be over, but that doesn't mean he can't be selfish for a little while longer.
He chuckles softly, quiet. ]
If there's anyone who can do it, it'll be you.
[ He wants to believe that it's possible, that Sunday will find a way to save him— Just for now, he'll allow himself this selfish wish, even if he already knows how things are going to end.
This might be yet another one of those things that won't go Sunday's way. (Or so he thinks.) ]
( He exhales softly as if every breath around him pains him. He misses this warmth radiating from him, the scent of old cigarettes and liquor clinging to an ever-unruly attire. As they speak, the express is in the real universe is growing more distant to the Asdana system. Sunday is here by sheer will, by stubbornness.
Perhaps his ability to revisit the Dreamflux Reef has to do with his connection to the entity that gazes upon it. And in turn, his own past connection to THEM. )
Not even you should deserve a fate as cruel as this.
( He glances up at him, reaching for his face with both hands so he can caress his cheekbones. )
[ It should be impossible for Sunday to be right in front of him, to feel real and warm and safe. And yet here he is, holding onto Gallagher with all the stubbornness he's known for. Parts of him that this old Hound will never grow to dislike.
He smiles warmly at him, reaching up with one hand to settle right on top of his as he leans into his touch. ]
Then, if I ask you to change my fate, will you find a way?
[ He turns his face to the side just to press a soft kiss against the other man's palm, wanting to remain close. ]
( His stubbornness is a dangerous tool, yes. The way he wields it for Order proves that much, but to cut through the predetermined fate of Enigmata would be another flavor of insanity. Sunday dabs his thumb over his lip after he kisses his palm, caressing him. These are probably not his lips, but someone else’s he has stolen. Just another lie of Gallagher, and yet they serve him far better than any other person. )
[ At this point, that's all up to Sunday's resolve more than anything else, since he's the one on the Astral Express moving further and further away from Asdana. Gallagher would insist that Sunday can't stay here forever, but he'll allow themselves this moment of selfishness. It just might be the very last one they'll ever get.
He pulls away just enough to memorize every feature of Sunday's face. His fingers trace over his cheeks, his jaw, mapping everything out until he's sure he'll never forget it. ]
Ever been told you're really pretty?
[ He's sure Sunday must have heard it all, given his former position. ]
( He'll miss all the nicknames, they will leave him with a familiar sweet taste deep in his heart. He'll miss the lies, every single one crafted from a thread of hope and truth. Sunday knows he can't stay here forever, but sometimes a lie is enough to keep one's will going so he doesn't say anything. He doesn't complain or call it out. He wants to pretend a while longer for the last time. )
Frequently, yes.
( He whispers, feeling his nerves revere the touch of his calloused, old fingers. Sunday sighs under his breath, shattering that poised mask he wears to allow himself a wrenched frown. The attraction of others doesn't mean anything to Sunday. The opinions that truly matter are here, slipping out of Gallagher's lips. Sunday lifts himself on his tippy toes to reach for them, tugging down on his tie to bring him lower. )
Gallagher, I wish to request one thing. It's quite simple.
[ For a moment, Gallagher looks stunned. He didn't expect Sunday to request for something like that, but he agrees that it is a simple wish, one that he can grant even if he has to lie. His web of lies is the only constant thing about him, so at least it's more reliable than the unknown.
He leans in close to press a soft kiss to Sunday's lips. ]
Then, how about I welcome you back to the land of dreams? Can I fix you something to drink?
[ There's more to his words than just drinking together, but he figures they can start with that. It's easy enough considering they're at his place where he has the supplies necessary to make anything Sunday could ever want. ]
Yes. ( He says under his breath as soon as their lips part away again. He misses this kind of warmth, even if it's objectively fading within the fabric of dreams themselves. Sunday can lie, too. What truly stops him from staying here as long as he wants after Gallagher is gone? )
Just like the one from before.
( He says as he follows him to his kitchen, helping with bringing out any tool or ingredient needed rather than simply spectating. Sunday takes greedy glances at him from the sidelines, putting out two cups for them. )
Gallagher meets Sunday's gaze whenever he catches the other looking his way, sending him smiles as he goes about mixing their drinks. He's always been so meticulous when it comes to this, careful to craft the perfect concoction that's sweet and perfect both in taste and aesthetic.
As he puts together Sunday's, he tops it off with a bird charm that has colours reminiscent of the Halovian's attire. He slides that over his way. ]
( He stands near him as he's preparing the drink with effortlessly. It's just as he remembers it from a night not too far in the past, and Sunday watches as those hands mix it and build it in every perfect way.
The taste is perfect, too. )
Your skills have not diminished. It's delicious as always.
If only I could have this every day, unchanging, so I could share your skill with everyone else.
[ Gallagher refrains from saying anythig else, because he can't guarantee that he'll manage to exist forever. At least, if he teaches Sunday his skills, then a part of him will remain with the other man even if it isn't something tangible.
( Sunday savors more of the drink before putting it down again. His eyes are settled deeply on him - Gallagher knows how much Sunday reads into things, how paranoid he is. This drink might as well be named Goodbye. )
Fine.
( He knows what this is, anyway. It crushes his soul unlike anything else, but if he can't escape a dream with Gallagher at his side, then he rather wake up without regrets. )
[ There's something about the way Sunday acquiesces that breaks his heart. He didn't think something like this was still possible given how close he is to the end of the line, but he knows that the man before him will always be one of his regrets. If only because he doesn't know how he can stay with him beyond this beautiful dream.
He reaches for Sunday's face, caressing the side of it with his palm. ]
Hey. You know you can ask to do something else.
[ In case Sunday is truly not interested... Then again, he knows there's more to it than just that. ]
( He'll miss the way Gallagher sees through him like this, even if it comes at a mildly embarrassing price. Sunday presses his palm over his hand, briefly out of breath because - well - reasons. This means he doesn't have much time left, and if this is their last time together.
No. He doesn't want to think about it.
Instead, Sunday reaches for his stubbled jawline, lifting himself on his tippy toes so he can press a hungry kiss on him. He always smells like this - half of old nicotine and his own sense of ragged beauty. He pushes him against the back of the counter, kissing him over and over like he's trying to mend him together via kisses alone. )
Sunday kisses him like this is going to be the last time, but the sad thing is that they both know it will be. They can't call this a bad dream, because tomorrow is never going to come for Gallagher, and that's simply the reality they have to live with now.
He kisses back, just as hungry, just as desperate. His arms wind around Sunday's small waist and pulls him close, unwilling to let go even if the man begs him for air. If this is going to be the last time, then he wants to make sure it'll be one the Halovian will remember for the rest of his life. He kisses him again, and again, nipping at his bottom lip. ]
Sunday—
[ He murmurs, asking for permission. He knows he already has it, but it serves as a warning too. ]
( He whispers between their mouths kissing and nipping at each other, words lost between every breath shared between them. Sunday's hands slide around his nape, clutching that soft hair of his to keep him just as close. If there is anything real about this moment is his this pounding heart aching for him. I don't want to lose you. I can't.
He grinds his hips against him, encouraging him to keep on holding onto his waist and perhaps to do even more than that. He doesn't care where it happens. If they don't do it now, he will never get this chance again.
So he pulls away roughly, gasping sweetly so he can messily undo his tie and the buttons on his shirt. His vest, his belt. )
I know, angel. [ Gallagher murmurs against his lips, soft and withering. ] I know.
[ Everything he wants is here too. He tightens his grasp around Sunday, kissing him more and more with every intent to devour him. Things have never felt this desperate before, this hopeless. It always felt like they had all the time in the world, but Gallagher knows that's no longer the case.
Still, he reaches for Sunday's hands and stills them. He pulls back just a fraction to smile at him. ]
If you rush, it'll be over before you know it.
[ So it's better if they take their time, even if it feels like they don't have much left.
He kisses him again, his hands gliding down the fabric of Sunday's clothes as he begins to peel them off. His vestments, his coat. All the way until his fingers snag against the cross-shaped holes of Sunday's gloves, touching pale skin. His lips move to start nipping at the curve of his neck as he continues to undress him, taking his time even though his cock is already hard and aching.
The last thing he wants is for this to be over, so he'll savour it until he no longer can. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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Even leaving the statue behind took the most of his power. He wonders how long it'll remain corporeal.
But I got you outta there, didn't I? So at least in that part, he didn't lie. I just can't be with you.
If only the statue could move, because he'd like to nudge Sunday's face right now, to make sure he isn't crying over an old Hound like him.
I don't know how long I can stay, but I'm here for the time being. No need to be sad. ]
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I didn't want to leave, Gallagher.
( He speaks somewhat in a hushed tone as if he were trying to keep the conversation secret. Who knows if the Express can hear what he's getting up to in here, speaking with this statue. Who knows if they're aware Gallagher can exist outside of Asdana?
The answer is right in front of him. It is possible. They can be together, but Sunday is so fragmented and exhausted, he's so stubborn he can't take a step back to realize the full picture or find another solution. It isn't easy stepping out of someone else's dreams, or shoes.
Defeated, he leans closer until his forehead rests against the statue's snout. )
I didn't want to leave you.
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I know you didn't, but I didn't want the Family to ruin you either.
He knows that if he stood there and did nothing, then the Family will keep Sunday locked up in a cage for the rest of his life. Sunday has already done his time, and the last thing Gallagher wants for him is to never have a chance to do better. The Nameless will make sure he'll be fine in the end, even if it means Gallagher will no longer be able to remain by his side.
You should sleep. You need rest.
Maybe Sunday will even have sweet dreams. ]
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( He speaks lowly, heart wrenching as much as the frown on his face. It didn’t matter if he spent the rest of his life in the Dreamflux, that was a reality he could accept- one he was beginning to feel comfortable with.
So of course he can’t help it when he feels rage burn inside him, unable to reach into the statue to choke the voice out of it.
He stands up again, staring down the statue before turning his back on it. At least sleep is a good idea, and maybe they’re close enough to the memoria that he’ll be able to access the sweet dream. He’ll be damned if he lets him go this easily.
Exhaustion takes him quick once he’s in his bed. It’s cold and the sheets are clean, but they don’t smell like the ones in his mansion. He grips them, closing his eyes, halo flickering until he awakens on the other side.
The Dreamflux Reef…
He should be near the center, but things appear bleak and worn down. There’s one way to find out if he’s in the right place.
So he makes it to Gallagher’s door, grabbing the handle swiftly and violently to let himself in. )
Gallagher?
Where are you.
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Still, a smile graces his lips easily. ]
Sunday. Fancy seeing you here.
[ He can tell the other man is mad. How their conversation ended earlier tells him that much, but he greets him warmly and welcomes him in despite it all. ]
I would've figured you'd dream about someone else rather than coming back here.
[ After all, Gallagher brought him to the Express just so he never has to be caged by the Dreamscape ever again. ]
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Yet there's that cold fire in his eyes whenever he looks up at him, offended. )
Where else would I go?
( He lost his credibility in the sweet dream and he's lucky he can manage to sneak into this deep dream without alerting the Family. His eyes narrow at him, he wants to unleash this fury, he wants to teach this old dog how wrong he truly is but he can't stand to kick a man who's already down. )
Don't wake me up.
( He gets closer to him, reaching to cradle his gloved palm against his face. )
I'm not the one who needs saving, Gallagher.
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Hah, how the tables have turned. He must truly look so pitiful if Sunday is telling him that. The smile on his face barely stays, so he leans into the other man's touch, wanting to feel his warmth despite this being a sweet dream. He doesn't want to move away from here. He doesn't want to lose this. ]
Then, are you planning on saving this old Hound?
[ If Sunday doesn't want to wake up, if he doesn't know where else to go— then Gallagher wants to be selfish and keep him right here. Both his arms wind around the Halovian's waist, pulling him closer to his body. His head rests against the man's shoulder, not wanting to move away. ]
I'd let you, if it was possible. [ His fate can't be changed, or so he believes. ] Just stay like this for a while.
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( He feels too warm to be a simple conglomerate of falsehoods, too kind to exist for the sake of another and not himself. There is a real Gallagher somewhere in his heart. Sunday draws his wings back and presses his face against his chest, clutching onto his clothes. He devours his scent, giving him the time he needs to reassess. )
You can't leave, not after the moments we've shared. I relinquished everything to you that night, Gallagher. Why would you be so... Selfish.
( He's not arguing, exactly, the words are so weak in his throat, fading as quick as he tightens his arms around him. The thought of losing him is painful enough and he has nobody else to vent. )
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He chuckles softly, quiet. ]
If there's anyone who can do it, it'll be you.
[ He wants to believe that it's possible, that Sunday will find a way to save him— Just for now, he'll allow himself this selfish wish, even if he already knows how things are going to end.
This might be yet another one of those things that won't go Sunday's way. (Or so he thinks.) ]
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Perhaps his ability to revisit the Dreamflux Reef has to do with his connection to the entity that gazes upon it. And in turn, his own past connection to THEM. )
Not even you should deserve a fate as cruel as this.
( He glances up at him, reaching for his face with both hands so he can caress his cheekbones. )
It's not fair.
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He smiles warmly at him, reaching up with one hand to settle right on top of his as he leans into his touch. ]
Then, if I ask you to change my fate, will you find a way?
[ He turns his face to the side just to press a soft kiss against the other man's palm, wanting to remain close. ]
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I’ll find a way.
( He’d summon God if he has to. )
Just let me stay here a while longer.
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[ At this point, that's all up to Sunday's resolve more than anything else, since he's the one on the Astral Express moving further and further away from Asdana. Gallagher would insist that Sunday can't stay here forever, but he'll allow themselves this moment of selfishness. It just might be the very last one they'll ever get.
He pulls away just enough to memorize every feature of Sunday's face. His fingers trace over his cheeks, his jaw, mapping everything out until he's sure he'll never forget it. ]
Ever been told you're really pretty?
[ He's sure Sunday must have heard it all, given his former position. ]
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Frequently, yes.
( He whispers, feeling his nerves revere the touch of his calloused, old fingers. Sunday sighs under his breath, shattering that poised mask he wears to allow himself a wrenched frown. The attraction of others doesn't mean anything to Sunday. The opinions that truly matter are here, slipping out of Gallagher's lips. Sunday lifts himself on his tippy toes to reach for them, tugging down on his tie to bring him lower. )
Gallagher, I wish to request one thing. It's quite simple.
Do not bid me farewell.
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He leans in close to press a soft kiss to Sunday's lips. ]
Then, how about I welcome you back to the land of dreams? Can I fix you something to drink?
[ There's more to his words than just drinking together, but he figures they can start with that. It's easy enough considering they're at his place where he has the supplies necessary to make anything Sunday could ever want. ]
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( He says under his breath as soon as their lips part away again. He misses this kind of warmth, even if it's objectively fading within the fabric of dreams themselves. Sunday can lie, too. What truly stops him from staying here as long as he wants after Gallagher is gone? )
Just like the one from before.
( He says as he follows him to his kitchen, helping with bringing out any tool or ingredient needed rather than simply spectating. Sunday takes greedy glances at him from the sidelines, putting out two cups for them. )
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[ At least that's easy enough.
Gallagher meets Sunday's gaze whenever he catches the other looking his way, sending him smiles as he goes about mixing their drinks. He's always been so meticulous when it comes to this, careful to craft the perfect concoction that's sweet and perfect both in taste and aesthetic.
As he puts together Sunday's, he tops it off with a bird charm that has colours reminiscent of the Halovian's attire. He slides that over his way. ]
Just like this?
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( He stands near him as he's preparing the drink with effortlessly. It's just as he remembers it from a night not too far in the past, and Sunday watches as those hands mix it and build it in every perfect way.
The taste is perfect, too. )
Your skills have not diminished. It's delicious as always.
If only I could have this every day, unchanging, so I could share your skill with everyone else.
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[ Gallagher refrains from saying anythig else, because he can't guarantee that he'll manage to exist forever. At least, if he teaches Sunday his skills, then a part of him will remain with the other man even if it isn't something tangible.
He clinks his glass against Sunday's. ]
What do you think?
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Fine.
( He knows what this is, anyway. It crushes his soul unlike anything else, but if he can't escape a dream with Gallagher at his side, then he rather wake up without regrets. )
Teach me.
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He reaches for Sunday's face, caressing the side of it with his palm. ]
Hey. You know you can ask to do something else.
[ In case Sunday is truly not interested... Then again, he knows there's more to it than just that. ]
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No. He doesn't want to think about it.
Instead, Sunday reaches for his stubbled jawline, lifting himself on his tippy toes so he can press a hungry kiss on him. He always smells like this - half of old nicotine and his own sense of ragged beauty. He pushes him against the back of the counter, kissing him over and over like he's trying to mend him together via kisses alone. )
Please.
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Sunday kisses him like this is going to be the last time, but the sad thing is that they both know it will be. They can't call this a bad dream, because tomorrow is never going to come for Gallagher, and that's simply the reality they have to live with now.
He kisses back, just as hungry, just as desperate. His arms wind around Sunday's small waist and pulls him close, unwilling to let go even if the man begs him for air. If this is going to be the last time, then he wants to make sure it'll be one the Halovian will remember for the rest of his life. He kisses him again, and again, nipping at his bottom lip. ]
Sunday—
[ He murmurs, asking for permission. He knows he already has it, but it serves as a warning too. ]
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( He whispers between their mouths kissing and nipping at each other, words lost between every breath shared between them. Sunday's hands slide around his nape, clutching that soft hair of his to keep him just as close. If there is anything real about this moment is his this pounding heart aching for him. I don't want to lose you. I can't.
He grinds his hips against him, encouraging him to keep on holding onto his waist and perhaps to do even more than that. He doesn't care where it happens. If they don't do it now, he will never get this chance again.
So he pulls away roughly, gasping sweetly so he can messily undo his tie and the buttons on his shirt. His vest, his belt. )
There's no time.
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[ Everything he wants is here too. He tightens his grasp around Sunday, kissing him more and more with every intent to devour him. Things have never felt this desperate before, this hopeless. It always felt like they had all the time in the world, but Gallagher knows that's no longer the case.
Still, he reaches for Sunday's hands and stills them. He pulls back just a fraction to smile at him. ]
If you rush, it'll be over before you know it.
[ So it's better if they take their time, even if it feels like they don't have much left.
He kisses him again, his hands gliding down the fabric of Sunday's clothes as he begins to peel them off. His vestments, his coat. All the way until his fingers snag against the cross-shaped holes of Sunday's gloves, touching pale skin. His lips move to start nipping at the curve of his neck as he continues to undress him, taking his time even though his cock is already hard and aching.
The last thing he wants is for this to be over, so he'll savour it until he no longer can. ]
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