Below the Mythical Surface (Completed)

A Fevered Dream

I'm dreaming.

It was the first thing that Rhett thought as he climbed into his truck, the leg room seeming too small and the roof seeming too short. It was uncomfortable, sure, but it didn't matter to him. He didn't need the wheels, he could fly.

With a blink of an eye he was in the air. The cool breeze fanning through his hair, whipping it against his forehead and leaving it flowing in every which direction. It had been a while since he'd been able to lucidly dream, a skill that came easier to him in his younger years, but dissipated with the passage of time.

I can go anywhere, he realized, smiling at the endless possibilities. He could go to the beach, but he could do that any day. He could fly high and look down at LA. He could go home, back to North Carolina. Or... he could go home to Link.

He didn't need to contemplate any further, the idea nestling in and staying put as soon as it was conjured. Even at this new vantage point, he'd be able to find his way to Link's house, the twist and turns of the streets that lead to him seared in his memory just as plainly as his own reflection.

His heart raced. Not because he was afraid of falling, but because he'd already fallen. The closer he got the more jittery he became. If only he could go faster... it was a dream. He should be able to...

It was in the next instant that he was in front of the pale colored door, the windows that let the morning sun spill in allowed him to peek inside before he rang the doorbell. He waited silently for the shadow just beyond the barrier that separated them, and didn't move a muscle once the door had opened widely, and Link stood smiling with a confused look on his face. This was the point in the dream where he'd normally be turned away, but somehow this was different.

"What're you doin', baby?" Link asked and stepped aside, allowing Rhett to move past him.

"I didn't know if you'd wanna see me," he shrugged back, the draw of sadness creeping through him.

"Why wouldn't I? Why would you knock? Where's your key?" The questions came out quickly and confoundedly, leaving Rhett searching for an appropriate answer.

"I didn't think you'd wanna see me," he repeated, and Link's smile fell.

"Well even if I didn't, it's your house, too. No need to knock..."

"It's my house too?"

Link's brow furrowed with worry, his palm reaching up to feel Rhett's forehead. He looked him up and down and then shook his head.

"You feelin' alright? You're freakin' me out. Obviously we live together. We have for a while... don't you remember?"

He forgot for a moment that he wasn't in the real world, racking his brain for the traces of a memory that would have brought him here. He didn't remember living with Link, but then again he didn't remember a lot of things.

"I must just be tired..." he tried weakly. He didn't want to scare Link more than he already had, hoping his thinly veiled lie would wipe away the creases in Link's forehead.

"Well, come on then. Let's go to bed." He held his hand out graciously, leading Rhett to the staircase and waiting patiently as he stumbled his way up the steps.

"You're workin' too hard, Rhett. I keep tellin' ya to take it easy. Maybe one of these days you'll learn that I'm always right."

"Maybe," he said back softly, allowing for a moment his lips to twitch in a smile.

"You gonna sleep in your jeans?"

He looked down at his legs, dark blue with the wash of his pants. He dragged them down his thighs and kicked them off before looking back to Link. He was in pajamas, and the room around him was dark. The stark contrast of day to night struck Rhett, but he couldn't think of much beyond that as Link tugged his shirt off from the back and tossed it toward the open hamper in the corner.