Hey, you. Welcome to the tiny little story I call A Dream Knot. I'm not aiming to become popular, and I'm certainly not aiming to impress anyone with this. Only myself, really. To prove a point to myself, that I can complete something, that I do have skill, and that I can make something worth looking back in the years to come and enjoy it wholeheartedly. I also want to create something that you can enjoy reading, of course.

Now, not everyone is going to like this. This IS a slash fiction, out of my own head, and does contain chapters of questionable material. Don't you DARE slate my work after I've warned you, because that would make you less of a human being, trust me.

I'm already almost thirty chapters in now, and I'm quite impressed with myself. I know my first chapter is horrible, but I'm begging you, move on to the next one, and your eyes won't bleed nearly as much. Also, this first chapter here doesn't give you enough explanation of it's genre, I know. This is like a...well a romance, science fiction, fantasy, homosexual, horror, etc., etc. I don't know how I have the readers I have already. xD

Well, that's pretty much all I have to say. Sit down, laugh, cry, boo, and enjoy yourself. You're in for one hell of a ride.

One day or another comes the realization that fates one hell of a fucking prick.

Violet orbs stared, fixated upon the eviction notice crumpled up on the table before them. For no rhyme or reason he’d been laid off. From all three of his part-time jobs, no doubt. It wasn’t that he was a slacker, either. It just so happened that fate had decided to shut down all three sources of his income. Even worse, he’d probably have to drop out of college.

It soon began to feel like he’d hit the bottom of an eternal pit that he’d been digging unawares for quite some time. it was too bad he’d forgotten to bring a ladder down with him. He found himself gliding over to the opposite side of his hellishly dirty home like a phantom. It was a small place, with pop cans and wrappers littering the floor. Unfinished paintings lay across the sofa on the far side of the living room, which was, sadly, jointed to a tiny kitchen that was half the size of his bathroom. The wallpaper was peeling terribly, the window covered in so many cracks and finger prints it was rancid just to look at it. He treaded over to where the blinking light of his answering machine resided. One slender digit stabbed at the blinking button, a thick, coarse abruptly gritting through the speakers.

“I’m sorry Vawyn, but we’ve already got a new resident who wants the apartment.” A long sigh followed, “It’s too bad it had to be this way, Vawyn. Again, I’m sorry. You’ve got 24 hours.”

Click.

Vawyn, listening to the sound of his own name echo through his ears, stood in disbelief, his finger still hovering shakily over the play button.

How dare he. Why couldn't he just come right up those stairs and tell him to his face? It would have at least left him with what little pride he had left. Gnashing his teeth, Vawyn thrashed to his feet and began to pace, as per his usual habit, kicking things around. That included the coffee table, too. By the time he'd let out most of his rage, the entire apartment was in complete disarray.

It took him several minutes to recuperate, strange violet eyes blurred in the heat of his frustration. He’d decided not to cry; it wouldn’t have meant anything, anyhow. At least not to him. This wasn’t some pity party for crybabies. Vawyn eventually decided to tackle the matter with complete and utter apathy, even though his heart felt like it was close to exploding. He sat down in the chair he'd been in moments earlier, breathing heavily against his hands, which had now engulfed his face.

When he noticed he had sat down Vawyn immediately stumbled to his feet too quickly. The hopeless man tripped, and he groaned at the pain that shot up his his back. Growling, he stared at the carpet, his nose squashed into his head, remaining still while he tried to clarify things for himself. He tried to look back and see how all this had actually happened to him.

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Vawyn sat in his 4 o'clock class, droning out the teacher as he leaned against the palm of his hand by allowing his eyelids to flutter close. There were a million things getting on his nerves - his last two jobs having been at a loss of money, laying off over half of their staff; his apartment lease expiring and his eviction notice arriving; and his inability to pay his college tuitions. He'd just so happened to be the lucky one in all three of those situations. Damn.

Eventually all he could really concentrate on was the mesmerizing tick of the clock hanging over the classroom door. Besides, they were learning about physics. Screw that.

The door swung open suddenly, just as he was dosing off in his misery, banging against the wall and alerting the entire class. A dark man stormed through the newly opened door, its hinges screeching so loudly that Vawyn jerked out of his daze to cover his ears. The mans eyes were a stunningly brilliant green, glowing directly in his direction. Everyone else's eyes were on him.

Vawyn's eyes were locked on the mystery man, watching as his stunningly pale lips formed one lucid word, 'Vawyn...'

'Vawyn...'

"VAWYN!"

He jerked awake, gasping as a physics text book collided with the top of his head. Vawyn groaned, looking around as he lifted his head up, seeing his teachers beady eyes boring down upon him. The college student reached up and wiped away a stray stream of drool oozing out of his mouth, yawning incoherently and standing. He knew what was going to happen next. This teacher never liked him, and he knew damn well he'd be booted out for his inability to keep interest on something he'd never use in his life.

That was his latest day in college.

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Vawyn climbed to his feet, storming furiously into the bathroom. Slowly he paused to look into the mirror. A tall, lean, mildly handsome junior-college student stared back at him. Crow’s feet tore away at his complexion and an unattended nest of wiry, dark ebony hair covered his head carelessly, hiding over half of his face. Two gorgeous violet eyes stared right back at him, full of a question he knew there was no answer to.

Fashion sense wasn't one of his specialties, either. At least not to be in the 'popular' crowd of these stereotypical cliques. Today he was wearing his loose cargo jeans, which hugged at his well-defined legs like leather, a thin black muscle shirt that made him look like he was chiseled out of stone, and a finely knitted black scarf. Vawyn looked at himself, his eyebrow furrowed against his brilliant eyes, making different expressions at the mirror. For a while thats all he did, standing there, thinking to himself.

A thought occurred to him, though it didn’t remain for long.

I wonder how he is doing…?

“Pfft…” Vawyn snorted, adjusting the shark tooth earring that dangled from his left earlobe. Who cares about him? Besides, half the time it simply felt like some crazy fantasy world. A world where he had been free to do whatever he pleased…even to kill a person. Actually, for the last month he’d been having some of the most vivid dreams…then, all at once, they’d stopped. Afterward, his life spiraled down to hell. Health, too, became a problem. There were bruises on him from top to bottom. They were from stupid, almost completely irrelevant things that he’d done. Every morning he awoke with a fever, an insatiable hunger, and a yearning that he could never get rid of. Was it the warmth of another person’s body that he yearned for…?

Somehow, he felt, it was more than that.

He actually referred to the man that existed within his dreams. So realistic was he that the very existence of those dreams had become his world, his everything – all day he yearned for sleep to be with him. When the dreams had stopped it felt like he’d been…abandoned. Tossed aside.

Of course, it was foolish of him to love a fantasy like that. He was, after all, just a stupid fantasy. Right?

The realization that he’d gotten off track of what he’d intended made his blood boil, which only helped aide his anger. Vawyn grabbed several random items from throughout the apartment; a toothbrush, soap, a single pair of clothes, his mp3 player, a tiny wooden box, a wallet, his jacket, and an old fashioned wool scarf with a plaid pattern of black, white, and gray. Somewhere in the distance Vawyn caught the digital read out of his clock blaring 9:30 at him.

With all that in tow, Vawyn shoved everything into a large black messenger bag. Then, wheeling around in a sudden rush of anger, he kicked a hole, dead on, next to the door. Too stunned at his own actions to notice the pain now throbbing to the surface of his foot, Vawyn stomped down the hallway, tucking his hands under his armpits, turning into the lobby.

“Vawyn!”

“Fuck you.” He snarled as he pushed past his ex-manager without a second glance.

“But Vawyn, someone came here to see you!”

“Well fuck them, too.”

“Vawyn! Vawyn, wait!” Those pleas came upon deaf ears. Vawyn hurtled into the revolving doors, ignoring the horrible glares he received from the people he shoved past. He burst into the open, eying the gorgeously black skies above. The stars were hidden behind a cloudy veil, snow pouring down from that veil in sheets. It was then that he realized how hopeless his situation was, how pitiful he'd become by simply surrendering to fate, letting his home, jobs, and school life shatter in one fluid movement.

Suddenly out of breath, Vawyn clutched his chest and stumbled away into the cold, snow-strewn street. Depicted in sheets of splendid white, the snow played across his feverish face. He didn't know where he was going. Vawyn had no family and nowhere to go. Just the streets, with what little warmth they provided. Pfft.

Where am I going…? I have no place…to…

“Vawyn.”

The voice was heaven to his ears. The slurred sound of his name didn’t seem to penetrate at first. Heavy footfalls mimicked his own from behind, his reality spiraling into a cesspool of emotion. A pain began to emerge within his chest, as if a knife had become lodged within it. “Vawyn. Vawyn, please.”

“Stop…stop calling my name…like that…” he’d stopped walking to clutch at his heaving chest, gasping and clenching his eyes shut. “I-I can’t…breathe…” he gasped, dropping to the ground and clawing at his torso. Everything felt like it was failing, dying before his very eyes. The foster home had warned him about how hard it would be, but he had never fully grasped the entirety of his decision. Now he had.

Slowly he began to open his gorgeously bright, violet eyes. A solid object grasped him somewhere around the shoulder, but he couldn't pinpoint it. A hand?

Why was he so tired? Why…why had he become so weak? Around some stranger, no less. He was in the middle of nowhere! This guy could try to rape him in his sleep! None of it explained why he felt so…safe?

“Sleep, Vawyn.”

Suddenly the fever overtook him. There was nothing he could do to prevent his loss of energy, every ounce of energy in his body draining away at the strangers touch. Strong arms grasped him around his torso to support his collapsing frame, delicate hands stroking through his thick black hair as he was eased to the ground. This didn’t make sense. It didn’t make ANY sense. Why had today been so horrible? What had he done to deserve this? Why had he betrayed him?

And...

…how the hell did…he know his…name?

Shh…calm your sobbing. Sleep.”

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