ONCE UPON A DREAM

Chapter Nine

I felt warm.

It was comfortable at first. I snuggled deeper into my comforter to soak it all up. Gradually, though, it grew uncomfortably hot. I kicked the comforter off me, laying spread-eagle in my bed. Much better.

I began to smell smoke. My legs also felt like they were on fire. I shot up from my pillow, eyes opening in bewilderment. I was surrounded by flames. A trail of fire steadily engulfed my legs and arms, and I screamed, falling off my bed into the fiery inferno below. The searing pain rendered me immobile, and it became harder to breathe. I saw a shadowy figure standing over me, unbothered by the surrounding fire. There was the flash of a katana as they raised their arms above them and—

The weapon swung down.

I woke up gasping on the cold floor, my skin sticky with sweat and my vision disoriented. In the dark of my apartment, the only source of light came from the window where the sun began to rise. I sat up, taking deep gulps of breath, and allowed my surroundings to orient themselves. Pulling my knees close to my chest, I rested my head in my arms, rocking slowly from side to side. It was only a dream, I reminded myself. I was safe. I was okay. I was okay.

I was fifteen when I last had this dream.

I took a deep breath, my head hitting against the mattress with a soft thud. The only thing I could remember was the heat of the flames against my skin, and even that was beginning to fade from memory.

Sleep wouldn't find me again tonight.

#

I walked into class later that afternoon on autopilot. Because this was my senior exhibition lecture, it probably wasn't the best of times to be a thousand miles away — I'd already missed enough classes as it is. Luckily, we were discussing themes for the show in April, which meant I could sit there and make as little contribution as I wanted to.

Rokuro plopped in the desk beside me, a large grin spanning from ear to ear. I rolled my eyes, closing my sketchbook with a begrudging snap. Interacting with him was a lot like interacting with a small child sometimes, they both required your full attention. But on days like today, it exhausted me.

"What?" I grumbled. Ignoring my cheerful disposition, he leaned back in his chair, folding his arms behind his head.

"Khy told me you were at Giuseppe's with your boss last night?"

I blinked, eyebrows knitting together in confusion. What the hell was he talking about? He couldn't be referring to—

Ah, fuck.

I pulled my phone out of my pocket, opened my email, and scrolled through my inbox. "I have no idea what you're talking about," I said innocently, trying to avoid eye contact in case I gave anything away. Spam, spam, student loans, more spam. Damn shitty filter settings.

"Bullshit. You know Khy wouldn't lie about something like that. Try again."

I'm going to kill that moron. Or maybe dunk him headfirst into the nearest garbage shoot. Whatever opportunity came first.

I set my phone down, pinching the bridge of my nose to keep my blood pressure from rising. I doubt my classmates would react well to seeing me spontaneously combust. But I mean, its art school, so there have been worse things.

"Yeah, we grabbed dinner," I admitted finally.

"Isshin Kataoka, right? Ice King? Satan Incarnate?" Rokuro asked incredulously, hand on his chest.

"The one and only."

Satisfied with the results of his interrogation, he smirked proudly and rest his legs across his desk. His boots accidentally brushed the back of the girl in front of him, to which she shot him a nasty glare and scooted her desk up. Rokuro remained unbothered.