↳ Choices we’re bound to make in life don’t always turn out well, and you would have to learn that the hard way, maybe should you have listened to your sister when she tried to dissuade you from marrying a man that you didn’t know, as charming as he might seem.
You were never much of a sleeper. In all honesty, you usually slept for about four to five hours per night at best. Your mother often teased you by saying it was because of you and all the lights you turned on on your way, that all the nightingales would start singing in the morning. Maybe it was because you always considered the unconscious state of sleep as a way to turn your back to reality, bypassing daily rationalism in favor of a utopian loophole. A world where all that was needed was to want something strongly enough for it to materialize, a world where we’d see our worst torments disappear, a world where fear, hate and disarray would be blown away by the sole strength of willpower. A world where we had control over our choices. Which, let’s be honest, wasn’t really your case.
So for the first time since ages, you gave yourself the right to sleep a little bit longer than usual, your body finally giving out under the weight of a night’s worth of tears and incessant questionings. Your body had probably understood that your subconscious was, now, the only place where your mind could rest, the only place where a modicum of safety was left.
You dreamt of all sorts of things, things that you’ll probably never get to taste again. Kyoto, its streets and its odors. You dreamt of long walks that you made sporadically with your father, whenever the weather would allow it. You dreamt of cherry trees which you admired every year, in front of which your inner child came out every time. You couldn’t help yourself from taking a picture beside them, your mother would always point out how the shades of the roses perfectly matched with your carnation. You also dreamt of numerous matcha desserts that you’d buy on your way home, and sometimes tried to hide away…You didn’t know it at the time, but your mother always noticed the little green powder around your lips, but only teased your father until he felt the unbearable desire to go and buy some, so to make the whole family enjoy it. You dreamt of your school as well, of certain good memories, you dreamt of the school exchange, those times when you went to Tokyo as part of the association. You replayed the trips, the long discussions with Naoya, as rare and precious as they were to your eyes. You learnt to put up with his nasty misogynistic and egocentric temper; you even reached the point where you wondered how you could even survive without being reminded that you belong in a beautiful and well furnished kitchen. And then, you saw your hangman again, gaze hidden by a pair of black lenses.
Story Summary: Down on his luck John Watson answers an advert for a paid role in an experimental play. Enter William Scott with a most unusual proposition: help him test run a two person immersive experience, oh and by the way there is sex and romance involved.
An update on progress: It’s been three and a half months since beginning to post this story. The word and chapter count are so much more than I ever would have imagined when I started this tale. Right now, I’m halfway through a climactic chapter - 23 - and the serious sh*t that all of Brook’s smug little grins promise is about to come true. Then, there will be something like nine chapters following that to answer the threat and bring our boys to a very well deserved happy ending. Everything is outlined and ready to be written, my momentum is good - despite injury and illness that tripped me up - and I feel good about bringing the story to completion.
