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picture_prompt_funTitle: Everyday Miracles
After what he'd been through, sometimes he forgot that life could be just ordinary, with everyday problems. For instance, he forgot that the feeling in his gut that made his vision swirl and his heart beat too fast was anxiety at the noisy crowds of people, at least one of whom was trying to run him over with a shopping trolley. It was a situation that he needed to do something about - by sitting down on a bench and getting his breath back - but it didn't necessarily mean the return of the Lord of Nightmares to steal the souls of all humanity. Neither was the missing star on top of the mall's Christmas tree symptomatic of some dark sympathetic ritual in the forbidden corners of dreamspace. No, there were plenty of thieves and vandals and drunks in Twin Seeds. And when he bumped into the girl whose face he could never get out of his thoughts, awake or asleep, knocking both of them over and spilling shopping bags everywhere, and everyone pointed and laughed or complained or also fell over, and he felt like he wanted to crawl into a hole and die, that was a thing that happened to normal people too.
He didn't believe that his bond with that angel-voiced redhead was mundane. Their souls were so tightly interwoven that they regularly shared dreams, sometimes even appearing in the same form with the help of NiGHTs, regularly borrowing Ideya from each other. In the waking world, he seemed unable to stop bumping into her, literally or metaphorically, no matter where he went. His mother, noticing that he was always with that same girl these days, smiled and laughed when he told her a slightly more believable version of the story, then told him that, no, that was what people usually felt when they found the right person for them. It hadn't been as profound for them but this thing with Claris was clearly very serious already - maybe nothing supernatural but still very special, 'an everyday miracle'. She had wished him good luck and ignored his blushing as she fussed over the simple task of straightening his scarf.
The solution to this, as it turned out, was pretty everyday as well: make sure to stand up first, help her up, pick up her bags for her, apologise to people around him who still had any interest in what was going on, buy them both some roast chestnuts from the stall as an apology and sit together on a bench underneath the suspiciously star-less Christmas tree, listening to the corny modern carols that Claris said she hated so much, watching the world go by unnecessarily fast, maybe sneaking his hand in hers.
Fandom: NiGHTs Into Dreams
Characters: Claris/Elliot
Rating: PG-13/Het
Words: 455
Tags: romantic fluff
A fill for picture_prompt_fun and fffc advent calendars, day 12
picture_prompt_fun and fffc advent calendars, day 12After what he'd been through, sometimes he forgot that life could be just ordinary, with everyday problems. For instance, he forgot that the feeling in his gut that made his vision swirl and his heart beat too fast was anxiety at the noisy crowds of people, at least one of whom was trying to run him over with a shopping trolley. It was a situation that he needed to do something about - by sitting down on a bench and getting his breath back - but it didn't necessarily mean the return of the Lord of Nightmares to steal the souls of all humanity. Neither was the missing star on top of the mall's Christmas tree symptomatic of some dark sympathetic ritual in the forbidden corners of dreamspace. No, there were plenty of thieves and vandals and drunks in Twin Seeds. And when he bumped into the girl whose face he could never get out of his thoughts, awake or asleep, knocking both of them over and spilling shopping bags everywhere, and everyone pointed and laughed or complained or also fell over, and he felt like he wanted to crawl into a hole and die, that was a thing that happened to normal people too.
He didn't believe that his bond with that angel-voiced redhead was mundane. Their souls were so tightly interwoven that they regularly shared dreams, sometimes even appearing in the same form with the help of NiGHTs, regularly borrowing Ideya from each other. In the waking world, he seemed unable to stop bumping into her, literally or metaphorically, no matter where he went. His mother, noticing that he was always with that same girl these days, smiled and laughed when he told her a slightly more believable version of the story, then told him that, no, that was what people usually felt when they found the right person for them. It hadn't been as profound for them but this thing with Claris was clearly very serious already - maybe nothing supernatural but still very special, 'an everyday miracle'. She had wished him good luck and ignored his blushing as she fussed over the simple task of straightening his scarf.
The solution to this, as it turned out, was pretty everyday as well: make sure to stand up first, help her up, pick up her bags for her, apologise to people around him who still had any interest in what was going on, buy them both some roast chestnuts from the stall as an apology and sit together on a bench underneath the suspiciously star-less Christmas tree, listening to the corny modern carols that Claris said she hated so much, watching the world go by unnecessarily fast, maybe sneaking his hand in hers.
