To Be Named

Chapter I

      Multiple smells reached Mica as he typed away at his laptop in the comfort of his own home. It'd been months since that dream began, and he'd had the same vision happen last night. The shadowed bags under his eyes and black hair showed that he had only woken up recently, and he seemed to be less stiff as he took a sip from the coffee cup at his side. 

      His heterochromatic eyes darted across the screen as he typed, letting the clacking of the keyboard fill his mind. It was always cathartic for him to write his stories, especially if he wrote them in chalk. However, if he wrote this script in chalk, he'd lose it to wind and water and grubby, Cheeto-covered hands in search of something to hold onto to break his inevitable drop from another blood sugar crash, so he was typing it out.  

      A symphony of varying genres played in his ears as he wrote away, the sound of clattering keys and soft humming filling the cluttered room. He had Disorder, an Instant Messaging platform, open in a separate tab. He notices that he was @'d in one of the servers he was in, and takes a break from writing his story. Someone had complimented his concept art of one of the main characters. He blushed softly, though he hadn't noticed it himself. He took a moment to sit back and sip his mocha latte. He had to process this. He scanned the compliment repeatedly. Was he overanalyzing this? Probably.

      He decided just to thank them and return to his business. Words flew from his fingertips with anxious confidence, inspired by the compliment. He managed to get a whole three and a half pages done before he decided to take a break to look over everything. He corrected some of the grammar and spelling and left it be for the night. It wouldn't do him any good to try to make it perfect. He let his mind wander as his eyes unfocused, then closed. He focused on his own breathing.
      In, then out.
          Slowly.
             Slowly drifting into a trance.
                 Slowly drifting home.

      Soon, he felt dizzy, then lighter than air. He let his spirit lift, traveling to a place he called his mind garden. It was the place he went to in his meditations. He always started in the gazebo of the garden. It was made of dark mahogany with beautiful Egyptian and Norse carvings, along with some Japanese and Celtic ones too. Sweet-smelling pink rose petals drifted down from an endless sky, contrasting with the spiciness of the Ebb Tide roses surrounding the wooden structure. All around was a garden of beautiful flowers and plants and flora of all kinds. He took a deep breath, taking in all of the senses. 
      The sound of the wind. The fragrance of the flowers. The peaceful light of the full moon above and the way it lit up the statue in the garden. Ah, yes, the statue. It always came to life at right, especially on nights like this. He waited patiently, but the statue stayed the same.

      'Huh, odd,' he thought. He wondered what else was different. He looked around, looking for anything new. He noticed a new scent, something he couldn't quite put his finger on. What was it? Clove? Cinnamon? No, It wasn't cinnamon. Couldn't be. Then he felt a new presence, and it certainly wasn't the statue. He had been sitting at the table under the gazebo, and it was starting to smell like rain and ozone as well. He looked to his left, and a beautiful man sat next to him. 

      The gorgeous man had long hair that shone in the moonlight, despite the deep sapphire color that it was. His snowy skin didn't sparkle like ice, but rather glowed and reflected like Moonstone under a dim flashlight. His eyes... oh, his eyes. His eyes were wonderful embers of garnet, burning brightly and joyously as they stared deep into the silver and blue of Mica's soft, calmer orbs.

       "Hello," the lovely man began. "Might I ask what you're doing in a dark place like this?"

      Mica was at a loss for words. He felt a pain in his chest and ignored it. 

      After a moment, he finally decided to say something, or at least stutter something out.

      "Th-This place isn't that dark...The moon lights it up perfectly, don't you think?" He tore his eyes away from the wonderful, beautiful, handsome man next to him.

      The man's lips curled into a peaceful smile, looking out at the garden with Mica.

      "It does. I'm surprised you can see it all out here. Did you make this place yourself?"

      "My mom helped me make this place. I used to come here just before I fell asleep, but..." he trailed off, thinking. The soft pitter-patter of the rain helped center his thoughts. His eyes rested on the deep green of the grass, watching rain fall and drip and pour onto the grass. He was almost entranced by it.
      The man watched with him. He hadn't been there to talk, really. He'd seen something he thought was beautiful, and had wanted to see it closer. The man glanced at Mica from time to time, the deep red of his irises still having that faint glow of joy. The faint breeze picked up the man's jewel-toned hair, brushing Mica's arm with it. Mica snapped out of his temporary trance.

      "Ah, I'm sorry, what was I saying?" The question lingered in the air as the two stared at each other, both enamored with the other.

      The man broke the silence, noticing Mica slowly fade away.
      "I think you should wake up, love...don't worry, we'll see each other soon again. I promise."
He kissed Mica's forehead, and he opened his eyes. His laptop's screen was black. The room was dim from a cloudy sky, and he could see the rain pour down from it.

      "What a strange vision," he mumbled. He'd heard the man's voice before somewhere else, but where? He dwelled on this for a little bit, then got up and out of his chair. He needed to set out a bucket to collect rain in.
      'Who knows,' he thought as he walked into the downpour, 'maybe I'll see him again.'