Tobias Matthews (Toby) (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
rockandrollvampire) wrote2022-03-02 08:44 pm
rockandrollvampire) wrote2022-03-02 08:44 pm
Entry tags:
The Most Painful Morning on the Beach
Burning. Pain. His body breaking down to dust as the sun rose. Dorian's arms around him. Dorian's lips against his. His last uttered words.
"Look, I got to say-- thank you, and I love you, Dorian Gray."
And then... nothing.
...or so I thought.
It was the strangest thing, pulling... awake, I guess? Back on that beach. Up on the cliffs overlooking the water where I died. Or thought I had.
No. No, I had died. I knew I had. I knew why I'd been there, what I wanted to do. Why it was necessary and why Dorian had to be there with me.
So why the Hell was I back there?
It took me a few minutes to get past the shock of being alive. My body was exactly as I remembered it before the sun rose; my hair, my skin, those few scars I had - all in order. Once that set in, I realized Dorian wasn't with me. That's when the panic actually set in. I scrambled about for a few minutes, calling for him in every direction, before I noticed something else weird.
It was completely dark.
I wasn't in danger of turning to ash, nor was I about to bothered about the fact that I was-- Well, completely naked on the beach. Which made sense, at least. I remembered the way my clothes had hung on me, at the end. How they weighed me down as I was literally falling apart. If I'd somehow come back from the dead - which appeared to be the case - my clothes wouldn't be with me. They didn't even make the first half of the trip.
God, I must've looked a mess as I sat there muttering to myself. Round and round my thoughts ran, and with no one to talk to, I uttered them out loud.
"I'm not dead. I'm not bloody dead!"
"Where is Dorian? He can't have gone far, right? I... I don't smell him though?"
"What happened? Why am I here?"
"If I died, how is this even possible?"
None of it helped, but it made it easier to look around and figure out what to do next. With Dorian nowhere in sight and his scent long gone from the area, it occurred to me that at least some time had passed since that last sunrise. I'd no idea how much at that moment, but it didn't matter. Knowing even that much meant I could stop searching for the other man and get to fixing other problems, first. Namely being naked. And very hungry.
When I finally got hold of myself enough to realize I had to move, I pushed myself to my feet and made my way to the road. Or the path nearest to it anyway. All the while I kept muttering to myself, wondering aloud about what was going on, about why I wasn't dead like I knew I ought to be. None of it made sense, and I figured it wouldn't until I went to see--
Dorian.
I had to get to him.
That was all that mattered. He would have the answers, surely. If I was back from the dead, he had to be involved. The man could be insufferable, but he was the only one who would do something like this for me.
I held on to that thought as I found a local charity shop, broke in to get some clothes, and began to hitchhike my way to Mayfair. I had plenty of time to think about the apparently 30 years that had passed, but I didn't care. I needed to know what had happened to me, and I was sure Dorian would know.
It held me until I got to the house after sunset some days later and let myself in. Not that things went right after that, of course, but what's done is done. Everything worked itself out - messily, as per usual - and that is all that matters.
"Look, I got to say-- thank you, and I love you, Dorian Gray."
And then... nothing.
...or so I thought.
It was the strangest thing, pulling... awake, I guess? Back on that beach. Up on the cliffs overlooking the water where I died. Or thought I had.
No. No, I had died. I knew I had. I knew why I'd been there, what I wanted to do. Why it was necessary and why Dorian had to be there with me.
So why the Hell was I back there?
It took me a few minutes to get past the shock of being alive. My body was exactly as I remembered it before the sun rose; my hair, my skin, those few scars I had - all in order. Once that set in, I realized Dorian wasn't with me. That's when the panic actually set in. I scrambled about for a few minutes, calling for him in every direction, before I noticed something else weird.
It was completely dark.
I wasn't in danger of turning to ash, nor was I about to bothered about the fact that I was-- Well, completely naked on the beach. Which made sense, at least. I remembered the way my clothes had hung on me, at the end. How they weighed me down as I was literally falling apart. If I'd somehow come back from the dead - which appeared to be the case - my clothes wouldn't be with me. They didn't even make the first half of the trip.
God, I must've looked a mess as I sat there muttering to myself. Round and round my thoughts ran, and with no one to talk to, I uttered them out loud.
"I'm not dead. I'm not bloody dead!"
"Where is Dorian? He can't have gone far, right? I... I don't smell him though?"
"What happened? Why am I here?"
"If I died, how is this even possible?"
None of it helped, but it made it easier to look around and figure out what to do next. With Dorian nowhere in sight and his scent long gone from the area, it occurred to me that at least some time had passed since that last sunrise. I'd no idea how much at that moment, but it didn't matter. Knowing even that much meant I could stop searching for the other man and get to fixing other problems, first. Namely being naked. And very hungry.
When I finally got hold of myself enough to realize I had to move, I pushed myself to my feet and made my way to the road. Or the path nearest to it anyway. All the while I kept muttering to myself, wondering aloud about what was going on, about why I wasn't dead like I knew I ought to be. None of it made sense, and I figured it wouldn't until I went to see--
Dorian.
I had to get to him.
That was all that mattered. He would have the answers, surely. If I was back from the dead, he had to be involved. The man could be insufferable, but he was the only one who would do something like this for me.
I held on to that thought as I found a local charity shop, broke in to get some clothes, and began to hitchhike my way to Mayfair. I had plenty of time to think about the apparently 30 years that had passed, but I didn't care. I needed to know what had happened to me, and I was sure Dorian would know.
It held me until I got to the house after sunset some days later and let myself in. Not that things went right after that, of course, but what's done is done. Everything worked itself out - messily, as per usual - and that is all that matters.