O N E I R I C
adjective [oh-nahy-rik]

Of or relating to dreams.

~  ~  ~  ~  ~

His bare feet on the wore-down, tarmac causes him immense discomfort. He wonders for the umpteenth time about why he has no shoes, or at least socks, on. As always, he receives no answer. He glances around, unsure of where he is but all the same feels as though he has been here before, a lot. He takes a step forward, the loose fragments of the road below poking into the soles of his feet. He cautiously walks ahead, with his eyes trained on the lines on the road and the houses he passes by. He stops suddenly at the sight of a worn down, two-floored house, with a mailbox that says 'Denbroughs'. He walks over to it gradually, tracing his fingers over the lettering slowly. He sighs. As the pre-scripted series of actions and events play out, something inside him pulls him towards the street ahead. As he continues to walk, a downpour of rain douses him in water. He shivers from the sharpness of the temperature; he cannot stand a second in the rain. He starts to run forward without any conscious sense of direction, as his clothes weigh him down and drip. He stops suddenly, turning to face the curb as his eyes trail down to the drain that is drinking every drop of murky, rainwater it is offered. He tenses up suddenly, foreboding consuming his sanity. He steps closer to the drain, bending down and resting on his knees. He flinches in pain from the uncomforting road surface. He places his palms on the tarmac and lowers his head till it almost touches the ground, to see inside the drain. "Georgie?" He calls out, hopelessly. Lightning strikes, flashing the sky and his vision, while its deafening roar causes him to shudder. His eyes fall upon an eerie figure in the drain, slowly nearing him as its mouth spread open with endless lines of fangs-

Bill wakes up with a jolt, strong enough that it causes him to sit upon his bed. Sweat rolls down his forehead as he continues to tremble in fear. He glances outside the window, noticing the shadows of raindrops falling on the curtains and the sound of rain pattering on the glass. He sighs and glances to his side, smiling when he sees you fast asleep. He plants a kiss on your forehead then steps out of bed.

*****

2 hours later...

Your eyes flutter open and you stretch your arms. You feel slightly fresh; you are ready to face the day-

You lift your head and furrow your eyebrows. The empty side of the bed, the lack of someone laying there, concerns you.

"Bill...?" You ask with a croaky voice, "Honey, where are you?" You sit up on your bed and glance around the room. There is no sign of him, neither in the bathroom.

You don't usually wake up in the middle of the night. You think that perhaps the rain had disturbed your slumber.

You get up and walk out of the bedroom. You look down the dark hallway then shake your head. You are about to head back into your room when you hear a subtle knocking on the main door. You perk your ears up to listen closely. You want to make sure that it isn't a tree branch tapping against a window-

"[y/n]? H-Hello? Are you... Are you there?" The knocking pursues at the door while you hesitantly approach it, "I-It's me..."

You rush to the door and pull the door chain out of its slot, then unlock the door. You turn the doorknob and swing the door open.

A gush of wind blows in your face, along with sprays of water from the rain. You gasp, "Oh my lord, Bill?!"

You see your fiancé standing on the porch, completely drenched in the rain. His hair is over his forehead, dripping with water while his clothes are see-through. His teeth constantly chatter and his body shivers slightly.

"I, um... forgot the house key," He says with embarrassment. He steps inside slowly after shutting the main door, while you hasten to the laundry room and grab a few towels. You run back to him and wrap a towel around his shoulders and one around his waist.

Bill takes his water-filled shoes off before entering the house. You bring him a chair from the dining table and he takes a seat. You grab another dry towel and start drying his hair, rather roughly.

"[y/n]..." He mumbles flatly, while you continue feeling the utmost concern for him, "[y/n], please-"

You furiously scrub his hair till it is dry, unaware that he has been trying to get your attention.

"[y/n]!" He exclaims suddenly and you stop your actions abruptly. A moment of silence falls amongst the both of you. You take a step back and gulp.

"I'm... sorry, I just," He smiles sadly, "I'm okay, don't worry."

You grab a chair for yourself and sit in front of him. You drape the towel in your hands over his water-soaked pants. "It's freezing cold out there Bill! What the hell were you thinking going out in this weather, so late at night?!" You feel yourself nearing screaming, "I woke up to find you out of bed and then you're outside doing who knows what-"

"It's complicated [y/n]," He glares at you and you scoff. You do not like his attitude at the moment.

"Oh really?" You cross your arms and sit back, adopting a sarcastic tone of voice, "Well I have all night to worry about that sweetie!"

He sighs, "I'm sorry [y/n], I've just been... To tell you the truth I'm not okay." You frown at him then move closer. You hold his hand and rub it softly with your thumb. You want to listen to every word he had to say.

Bill tells you everything he has been through for the past couple of months. You never realised that he had been in so much internal conflict and distress; he masks it very well and you feel guilty for not noticing.

Bill has been having nightmares almost every night. They are reoccurring, with the exact same chain of events and perhaps some details altered from time to time. But it is always Bill standing on the street where he grew up in Derry, in front of his childhood home. The rain leads him to the very drain where his younger brother Georgie had disappeared... and Bill always wakes up violently.

"I can't remember the last time I had a peaceful night of sleep [y/n], I barely get any sleep nowadays," He carries on sharing, "I-I-I don't know what to do anymore..."

You near him and wrap your arms around his trembling body. You pull him close to you and rub his back gently. You peck his cheek then look deeply into his eyes.

"Bill, you're just stressed about work and it's reflecting in your dreams," You react, "And it's bringing back elements of your past. You know how dreams are literally just a mixture of memories and signs from your unconscious."

He nods his head slowly but then shifts to shaking his head in refusal. "But they feel so real and it makes me realise that it was all my fault [y/n]," He expresses with distress, tears glistening in his eyes, "It's my fault that Georgie isn't alive today."

Bill starts to cry out and you hold him in your arms. You rock him back and forth slowly, wondering how you can comfort him. A couple of years ago Bill had an extreme psychotic episode where he had initially been admitted in a hospital. Once he got better, he had a series of psychotherapy for several months. He had become so thin and frail; you have never been more concerned about someone. The therapy made him better, he was soon back to his normal self but upon hearing about the dreams and his mental health recently, you feel that he's slipping back into his past self.

"B-B-But the worst thing is..." He pulls away from the hug and stares at you with dread in his eyes and a heart fiercely thumping in his chest, "I see... it... in the drain."

You feel yourself grow cold. The thought of that creature, whatever it is, had not occurred in your mind ever since you left Derry as a teenager with Bill by your side, for college.

"N-No not-"

"Yes, with its claw-like teeth that never... end and the glowing d-d-deadlights-"

Bill suddenly gets up and takes a few steps away from you. He covers his face with his hands, his crying deepens. You stand up and hug his torso from behind.

"Please don't cry Bill," You say softly, feeling yourself draw to tears as well. Bill turns around and looks at you with a smile of hope.

"This hasn't been the first time since I have gone out in the night," He confesses and holds your arms, "I go cycling almost every night, for miles."

"What..." You mutter.

"Cycling calms me [y/n], it helps me remember the good parts of my childhood," He continues, "It takes my mind off the pain and the suffering, and the bullies and... poor G-G-Georgie."

You look to him with pity. You have no clue about what he is going through and all the despair he has experienced. Yes, you had known him prior to Georgie's disappearance but... your feelings are scattered around in a mess.

"I'll help you get through this Bill, I'll do whatever it takes," You hug him and plant a soft kiss on his lips. You take a hold of his hands then lead him to the bedroom so he can perhaps finally have a good night's rest.