The Reality Of Nightmare (BxB)

CHAPTER XXI: JUST ANOTHER DAY

CHAPTER XXI: JUST ANOTHER DAY

"Oh, I could use some two or three
Or other kind of ways to be
But today I won't be so hard on me."
- Lady Gaga, Just Another Day

I knew that I've been dreaming when I felt a pair of lips softly touched my forehead. The image was blurry, and I couldn't remember who kissed me on my forehead. That was a good dream, and it actually made me smile. I knew that it was still morning, or afternoon – everything was bright, so I assumed that it was morning or afternoon.

The warm brisk of air hits my face, and I actually smile when I feel it in my face. Am I still dreaming? My whole body feels warm and fuzzy, and electricity courses through my veins as I snuggle closer to a hard yet soft... something? Despite the fact that I don't know what I'm snuggling with, I push myself closer, wanting to feel the warmth that it's giving me. I sigh in contentment. Then it moves, but I actually don't mind – for all I know, I could still be dreaming; something warm curls around me, pressing me closer and closer. The feeling is undeniably perfect, and I never want this to stop. Whatever this is, I want to stay it this way and never wake up.

My eyes begin to flutter open, then I squint, adjusting to the brightness of the room I'm in – just seeing the familiar ceiling, the walls, I know that I have to be in my room. Looking outside through the mirror, the sun is already going down, cutting through the horizon in the distance, painting the sky with its warm, live and orange-y color. When my eyes settle on one person – no, a demon who hides himself as a human, I'm mortified – his mesmerizing brown eyes are trained on mine, glued on mine, and I have this feeling that he has been watching me since God knows how long already. Looking down, I see his arm is draped over me, tugging me close. As soon as I realize, my head being filled with unnecessary and, at least to me, immoral images, I feel myself flushed. Heat creeps up into my cheeks and neck and I squirm. Slate only grins at me, showing me his dazzling pearly white teeth.

"Good morning," he murmurs, his fingers pressing, massaging my back and I almost moan out loud have I not forced myself not to do so. His fingers are good and relaxing – after all that I've gotten myself into, what I want to do is to release all the tension of my muscles by having his fingers, or hands, massaging me, my back, or whatever part of my body. But of course I won't tell him that. Knowing the demon, he'll make fun of me; I'll be his teasing and laughing stock for God knows how long. "How's your sleep?"

I want to retort back, to say it was good until I saw him lying down beside me – I think better. He's a demon for Christ's sake, he can do anything to me, especially now that I'm super, like super duper, closer to him; there's no inch, or gap, separating our bodies. "It's good," I say the truth nonetheless. Angels don't lie. Or at least that's what I think.

Before, Leandre always thought that just because we're angels, we can't commit sins. He had been vocal about it. When I asked him why, he just shrugged his shoulders as if the answer didn't matter – he told me that we're not perfect. We aren't; he was right. Though I have yet to catch Leandre lying, I don't really think he lies, or angels lie. Like at all. Except for the fallen angels. They lie, like, a lot. Though I have yet to personally meet one, I already know their personality.

Trying to squirm my way out of his strong grip, I say, "I think there's nothing good in morning," Slate smirks at me, winking, and just when I thought my face couldn't get any redder, Slate leans down and plants a kiss on my forehead – that familiar feeling is there again, like the one in my dream. And now I'm wondering if I ever really had a dream about someone kissing me on my forehead.