Finding safety in the heat of intense bliss. Only temporary clinging on hope that loss wouldn’t find them both. They’ve lost plenty through the years of knowing one another. Of sharing a world that was not fit for brokenness on a personal level and in their broken shards slipped through the sealant. Causing ruptures all over the place that needed the most protecting. He dozed off in lieu of those reminders. Cascade in the pitch blackness that took him under once before, were streamers of an offshoot of blue. Tinted by its green crest that blanched the coils of colors, he tossed in slumber. The color's appearance arose in stress. Spiking the pulse with accentuating a purpose of past discoveries. False ribbons of teal pushed it’s boundaries, binding to the triggers he almost forgotten about. But in the dreamscape, the place he had little power in, ruled his most cursed seal.
A stamp of teal, hex color #008080 as its baseline flowed in continued streaks. Mummifying apprehension to the streaks of darkness that jostled and then stir beneath the bright hues. A shimmering effect pooled around him in a relaxing stream. Merging into ocean green, a variant of teal that partied more along the percentage heaviest of green. The colors sent waves in goodness, masking its haunting nature just beneath the surface. Never one to fear the good of colors less threatening, it eased sensibilities to the continued path. Doors appeared among the fabric of teal. Changing shape until he tugged at a simple knob. Parting the entry with a pass, and escaping the flood as it entered a distant yet misleading memory.
He stopped in the center, a living room built in a hazy recreation of a quiet foundation near petering out from its design. No one ever said marriage had an easy build or ones paved in the sturdiest infrastructure but he believed it was solid. Just look at how the house was being run, operating through rules and routine. Some of which felt on par with the teal aesthetic. Properties of blue spoke of calm while the continued effects carried renewal by green, to clear thoughts of a mind, kept him still. A union required revitilization. The colors showing signs of it being so. Arms flagrantly crossed while he looked upon himself across the way. Rehearsing a presentation of a gift. Something small, wrapped in silver paper with a bow. That same bow was dyed in ocean green, a favorite reminder to chances seen and for chances to carry no matter the ones that were buried.
Where a slightly skewed Lyle stood with the present hidden behind his back, the older and flitting version watched on. Awaiting the look upon Raina’s face once she spotted the gift, he paced. Moving back and forth, head hung low. Verbalizing what to be said and some of it was more off the cuff, changing at each pace. The door just far off near the corner opened up. Gradients of the same color hid an outline of his wife. A veil of which leaving the onlooker puzzled. Although excitement was present in the features of a clean shaven Lyle, the excitement cleared off the field of present day Lyle when he saw the life escape as a gaping hole, voidness in space of a womb, appeared.
She said no words but her face reached out and said it all. The present bearing man began to fade, much as Raina did. The hole stretched pass the shimmer of teal and ocean green, engulfing their excitement.The anticipation of life among the rubble that formed beneath a crumbled bedrock, dragged away. And the bow escaped with the darkness of a casted shadow. Caught in the wreck of loss, creased the arena of which there was no true place to run from. Draping the rest into nothingness and allowing the pain to vibrate through the empty space. Any worse nightmare was a thrown reminder to the face.
Slapping him out of its context. Out of the way and back into the dingy stream, until it forced a convulsion deeply rooted when sedation was unlikely to keep him stuck in an ongoing wheel. All past images melded with the conveyor, which kept him in motion. Running past the etched smirks and glowing eyes of a lord to be feared. Its demonic existence sending a cold reminder of where he was and there was no escaping, no matter the warmth given, the bed shared, or the treatment to numb. He would be hunched in any shadow of Lyle’s space, until the room wasn’t big enough for the both of them.