The house at the Crossroads (BxB)

Real Nightmare Starts When You Wake Up

Gabriel woke up catching his breath. Even though he had been laying on the futon all night, his dream felt too real it seemed as if he too was running. He curled and pulled the blanket closer. Even though he hated depending on the comfort the scent was giving him, he was still disappointed that the smell was slowly fading. He could only hope Karlos would not find him curling and sniffing his blanket like a creep. The velvet texture of the fabric was also not helping, it was so much better than the one he had at home.

He snuggled his face closer to the blanket for one last time. He pushed himself off the futon and folded his own made bed. He tucked the things to a corner where he knew Karlos would collect later. As quietly as he could, he sneaked out of the house.

The sun had not yet risen, but it was light enough that he met a few vendors making their ways to the market. Without checking for the time, he knew it was already around four in the morning. He had long trained his body to wake up at the exact hour. As he headed for his house, the majority of the houses in his neighborhood has yet to be awaken. Although he did meet a few old people who were sweeping their yards or drinking coffee on their porches. If it was someone else, they would have greeted the neighbors' good morning. But it was Gabriel, and he had work hard enough to be invisible in the eyes of the people in town.

When he arrived at his house, the rooster in his neighborhood was screaming for the sun. As it did, another one from a distance followed. A half-finished and unpainted house stood before him. The second floor was still under construction, it had been for almost a decade, halted on the year they had their worst crisis. They do not have a garage, so their rusted pick-up truck was parked in their cramped front yard. By cramped, it meant he had to squeeze himself to the narrow space left for a path towards the front door.

Upon slipping through the entrance, he immediately wanted to withdraw his step. A woman's moan coming from his father's room was what welcomed him in his arrival. It was loud and sharp and nasty he'd rather have the roosters outside screaming in his ears. For a moment, he wondered if it was the same woman days ago. He bet it was different. It always was. He was used to being welcomed this way; a woman's moan, a sound of banging, the bed creaking, a smell of piss and beer, empty bottles scattered everywhere, and garbages for decoration. He picked up the bottles that were on his way, but he did not bother with the others.

He headed for his room and collapsed on his bed. He roamed his eyes around the room, checking for any differences. He knew his father and he knew he would snoop around in an attempt to find his savings. His eyes stopped on the picture frames on the wall, but he did not let them linger on the smiling faces. When he was certain they were untouched, he closed his eyes and tried for at least another hour of sleep.

However, only a minute later, his eyes snapped open. He suddenly remembered his dream. Aurora. In all the times he had dreamed about his past life, or what he believed it was, he never once seen nor heard about Aurora. It was always just about Lucas, about the house at the crossroad, and about the memories they had; both good and bad. Sometimes, he would dream about his family, but they were mostly blurred. Even now, he could barely remember the face of his father in his dream. However, he could clearly recall the fear he had when he was around him. The feeling was not much different from the one he gets from his father in this current life.

"Aurora," he whispered, trying to balance the name in his tongue.

Maybe if he repeats her name enough, he could remember her. But exhaustion was dawning on him, and after her name rolls from his tongue once more, he fell asleep.

Three hours later, Gabriel was back at the house. He gestured a La mano to Allan who he called his uncle even though they are not related by blood. The man was a friend to his father and to himself, so he addressed him as uncle in respect as well as gestures La mano whenever they met. He did the same gesture when he saw Amalia.