I'm starting to miss visiting Dawn.

I stare at the fire July is slowly building up, but my thoughts are miles away. It's been almost a week since the last time I got to meet him. I've been trying to avoid thinking about it, like many other things I avoid thinking about these days. But when you have too much free time, all the thoughts from the backroom of your mind drives up to the front. There's no stopping it.

I feel a light nudge at my arm. I turn my head to the side, and find July holding out an open packet of chips. The last one from the bunch Edgar gave. Even after hours of walking, we couldn't find any way out today. Luckily, we decided to use a stick to line our path from the waterfall to wherever we walked to, so we could make our way back here. But if we don't make it out by tomorrow, who knows what I will have to eat?

Moreover, ever since our conversation in the morning, July has been a little down. He hasn't made a single silly joke since then, nor has he made any conversation unless absolutely necessary. I can tell he's not mad at me or anything, he's just . . . sad. I'm suddenly starting to be afraid if he somehow read my mind during that conversation. But these days I'm seeing him sad too often, so I can't really tell.

I take the packet from his hand. Then I tell him, "I miss Dawn."

I surprise myself by saying it in a more honest way out loud than what I said in my head. In truth, what I miss is more than just visiting Dawn. Why do we lie to ourselves, in our own thoughts, despite knowing no one else will hear it? Why can't we expose our own difficult truths to our own self? Is it because we're afraid of what unexpected truth we might end up discovering, or is it because we don't have that minimum amount of trust in us that is within us?

They say lying to others is the most major sin. Then what about lying to yourself? Why isn't that a sin? Why is it, instead, a mere flaw everyone has to suffer for?

July doesn't reply. He simply moves to sit closer to me. A silent gesture of support. It's more than enough.

As the two of us sit in front of the fire, staring at it in silence, the world around us turns strangely serene. The sound of the waterfall is distant, a music from a faraway land. The unstable flames jump up and down as if reaching for the sky and failing, then sway left and right as if dancing away the bitter taste of defeat.

I finish eating the chips, and put the empty packet into my bag.

"Was that enough?" he asks, referring to the chips.

"I guess." I wouldn't say it's enough to fill me up, but it's enough to get me going.

"Tomorrow, we should try to find real food."

"Okay." With that, I was about to fold up my knees to sit more comfortably, but he grabs the kneecap on his side and pushes it back down. "What are you—" I stop midway as he proceeds to put his head on my thigh and comfortably lie down.

A part of me immediately gets the urge to push him away, but another part stops it from doing so, fearing the hurt it might cause him. He's already down, I can't make it worse. Besides, this means nothing. He probably just wants to rest a bit. This means nothing at all.

Why do we lie to ourselves? Is it because we are afraid of what we might discover with just a little bit of honesty? Do we only lie when we know the discovery will undoubtedly throw us into a paper shredder, turning us into mere meaningless pieces of a vain existence? If so, then how far are we willing to go just to protect ourselves?

How far am I willing to go to protect myself?

I shake my head to push away these thoughts. It's too much to deal with at once. Instead, I focus on what's right here.

His cheek presses against my jeans, and I feel the cold from it seep through the fabric to my skin. It makes me slightly shiver in spite of being seated in front of a fire. His gaze remains transfixed on the flames, and I wonder if he feels the burn from the heat in his eyes. Probably not. His skin has turned into a shade of orange, while his cinnamon brown hair looks red. I keep looking at his eyes, which must be reflecting the flames now,  but like most of the time, his eyes look at something else.

"What are you thinking about?" I ask.

"Things I shouldn't think about," he replies.

"Really?"

"Hmm."

"Sometimes, I think about such things too."

"I guess we all do." He rolls on his back, looking directly at me. I turn my head down to do the same. The red glow of the fire illuminates one side of his face, while the other side remains in the shade of my body. Our gazes remain locked, and I feel my body slowly heat up, the reason being anything but the fire.

As if under a spell, my hand raises on its own accord, the mental protests too weak for me to control myself. His own hands are resting on his stomach. I put a finger on his temple and gently slide it down, feeling him stiffen a little. I bite my lips. What is this, my attempt at testing out how potentially painful the truth might be?

Perhaps I can do this only because it's just the two of us here, tucked away in an unknown corner of the world. The night is blind, no one will be able to see us, perhaps not even time itself. We are enshadowed by a thick veil of lies, where a tiny hole left for the truth. And through that tiny hole, we see the world that could've been. But only for a moment. Not more than that. So for this moment, just for this moment, I want to . . .

No, Cedar. The voice in my head speaks up in a tone of warning. I try to ignore it.

He doesn't turn his eyes away, and he doesn't protest. When my finger reaches his cheek, I lightly touch it with my palm. As if suddenly coming to my senses, I immediately draw my hand back at the contact. What am I doing? What is the point of this anyway? It's not taking anything forward or backward, it's simply making it harder to stay in the same spot. But before I can remove my hand from the territory, his one raises to the back of mine, pressing it back against his cheek.

I am starting to feel a little out of air. My legs are getting numb from staying in the same position. But I can't tear my gaze away from his. He does it first, by closing his eyes.

The silence feels like being trapped inside an iceberg. I hear a collective croaking sound from somewhere within the forest, not being able to recognize the creature behind it. The embers jump higher, excited, anticipating what is only possible in books. It reminds me of Edgar's little sister, Edith. Now is not the time, though. The world Edgar exists in is miles away now. The world right here, in this forest, consisting of me and him, is the world I should focus on right now.

Because this world, is heading towards the apocalypse.

Finally, he breaks the glassy silence with an abrupt statement. Without opening his eyes, he asks, "If a grizzly bear suddenly attacks us from nowhere, what would you do?"

The question takes me off-guard at first. But then I remember, July likes to run away as much as I do. In such situations, that is actually helpful. I reply, "Pretend to be dead."

"And if that doesn't work?"

"Then you have to take a burning wood from the fire over there and hit it with it."

"Hmm, but that would hurt the bear."

"Is the bear more important or me?" Oh my God, that was such a weird question. Embarrassed, my cheeks flush.

Opening his eyes, he smiles. "Which one is more important, huh..." He thinks with furrowed eyebrows.

"Is it seriously taking you that long to decide?"

He chuckles, the impact making my thigh shake. The other thigh feels so much warmer now, devoid of any weight. "No, I suppose no bear is more important than my Little Buddy 1."

I grin. "Then what about your Little Buddy 2? Which Little Buddy is more important?"

He lets out an amused laugh. I can't help but smile. I'm glad I could cheer him up a little bit. He replies, "That is a very tough question."

I chuckle. "On a second thought, don't answer it."

"Why not?"

"It will be something creepy for sure."

Both of us laugh some more. He stops suddenly. For a moment, he looks lost. Lips parted, his eyes are a little wide as they look at somewhere else. His grip on my hand becomes harder. Then he closes his eyes again, his face contracting in pain, and immediately bursts into tears.

Taken aback with the sudden breakdown, I simply stare at him. I was not prepared for that. I really thought he was feeling better. Did I somehow trigger it? Slowly, I put my other hand on his head. He rolls on his side again, this time facing me. His nose presses against my shirt as he sobs. I don't know why he is crying all of a sudden like this. I don't know how went from laughing to sobbing within seconds. All I know is that my heart is breaking at the sight.

He buries his face into my stomach.

"Cedar?" His voice is shaking.

"Yes?"

"I don't want to leave."

I close my eyes and search for air to breathe. But my chest is so tight right now that it is impossible. There is pain in lies, there is pain in truths. And yet we resort to the former than the latter in the vain hope that we'll be able to escape. But there is no escaping. All you can do is hide, hide, and hide, until the truth eventually catches you.

The word 'leave' keeps resounding in my mind, a playlist on repeat. I caress the back of his head as he continues to shake like a little child. I open my eyes and regard the fire. It's glow seems to have lessened down, as if slowly getting weaker from the tears of a ghost.

The ones we love leave; the pain never does.

-------------

Lying side by side, we start recollecting dreams we have seen in the past.

July stopped crying as abruptly as he started after about ten minutes. It's been like an hour since. We were silent for too long, running out of topics to talk about, or simply not in the mood to talk. So July randomly asked me if there's a dream I remember. I told him the dream about being stuck behind a white window.

"That's a sad dream," he says. Both of us have our backs to the ground, the fire still burning on the other side of our heads. I'm not inside the cave, just in front of it. It's too hot in there, so I won't go in unless I have to. Right now, the distance between us could fit two more people.

"It is. Have you ever seen any dream like that?"

"I have, actually. It is kind of similar to yours but . . . with more plot, I guess?"

"Really? Do you remember it?"

"Not all of it. I remember it was a very long dream, but I only remember the last bit properly." He raises his eyes while trying to remember. "It was about this elevator that could take me to the highest point of the world. I didn't think about this dream at all until the night it abruptly came back to me when we were in tower Louisa."

I let out a single laugh. "That's how dreams work. So weird."

"I know. So what happened was . . . I don't remember it as vividly as you do, but I think I remember how the elevator looked like. It was a dark shade of silver in colour. It was very small and cramped, like only for one person. Right in front of the elevator were some long pieces of wood lying around messily. And there was a huge widow right beside it. It covered the whole wall – that window. Just like in your dream, the window overlooked to a beautiful scenery. It was- it was really beautiful. It was a huge marsh. Like a very big river with some pieces of green land peeking up. The water was dark blue, probably because it was night."

"That must have been beautiful."

"It was! So I got up on the elevator. I wasn't alone. There was– Moon was there." He glances at me sideways, and I struggle to keep my expression completely neutral. He continues, "And this other guy. He was the elevator guy. I have never met that guy in my life, or perhaps I have, but I don't remember. I only remember he was wearing a red shirt with white checks. So yeah, we went up. But I didn't feel the lifting-up bit at all. Next thing I remember, I was in this bedroom. There was only a bed, and a big window covered by curtains. Ah! Orange. The curtains were orange. How the hell do I remember that?"

He laughs a little. "So yeah, I walk up to the window. I remove the curtain, and was completely shocked to see the scenery. It was the same landscape outside, but from a much, much higher height. I could see more of it. There was nothing but that marsh out there. I was shocked for some reason, and I drew back and told Moon to check it. There was someone else on the bed. A woman. I don't remember who. Then Moon walked up the window and exclaimed how beautiful it was. And that was the end."

I imagine the dream. Then I say, "That was a nice dream. Happy and beautiful. Romantic."

He stares into space for a while. "It would have been. But there was a . . . part that ruined it all."

"What happened?"

He presses his lips together. He shakes his head and says, "It was the elevator guy. He . . . when we got to the bedroom, I saw something. It was before I saw that unknown woman on the bed. It was Moon. She was lying on the bed, and that guy was beside her, and his hand was on her . . . b-body. And I saw it, but I just stood there doing nothing." He scoffs. "No, I didn't just stand there. I walked over to the frickin window. And Moon was there and she was getting . . ." He shudders and shakes his head again, as if not believing himself.

"Hey." I put my hand on his shoulder. "It was just a dream."

"No, it wasn't." He turns his head to me. I realize the distance between us is lesser than before. "It was a nightmare in disguise of a dream."

"Just like mine."

He nods. "These kind of dreams are the worst." He turns back to the sky.

I look past him, at the trees standing tall in the darkness, their barks reminding me of slender-man. It feels like this small space in the middle, devoid of any trees, consisting of only me and July and a slowly dying fire, is the only safe place in this world. Though there is no connection between the two, another dream suddenly comes back to me.

"I remember another one," I say.

"Mhm?"

I begin. "I saw my whole family in it, even some relatives I'm not close with. But not Dawn. Dawn wasn't there." I wish he was. Then the dream wouldn't be so bad. "All of us arrived someplace on two taxis. Everyone was looking at me with pitiful expressions, but the moment I looked at them, they would glance away. I remember feeling confused. So we went in to a huge building, but on the inside it was like a . . . like a medieval cave? Of sorts. The walls were made of earth, and there was this passageway we all were walking through.

"At some point, this guy came. Just like in your dream, I have never met this guy. But he was like a guide, perhaps. He led us to this open, circular space where there were some other boys. I only remember one of them saying something like "People come here to stay". At that moment, somehow I knew, that I was the only one who was going to stay. And my entire family had come to say goodbye."

July turns his body to me, and props his head on his elbow. He seems to be even closer than before now. I can't see his face too well, since the fire we built was behind us. But I could sense his gaze on me.

So I continue. "Then we went to another place. There were two identical doors side by side. One of the door was bright, luminous, while the other was very dark, almost pitch black. All of us went to the bright one first. I remember my uncle and aunt were quarreling about something, like they always do in real life. I remember there were rooms on both sides, like it was a dormitory. They were out in an open space, which means there was no roof overhead. They were just rooms. I walked past this one empty room, which was very messy inside. Then I told Dale I want this room. But he put a finger on his lips and told me to hush down.

"We walked further, and in front of us, lied a huge river. It was ethereally magnificent, an image that can't exist in reality. I still remember it very well. There were white swans swimming there, and pelicans catching fishes with their beaks. In the far end, I saw a green lining of distant trees. It was heaven, July, it was heaven. All of us stood there for a while, and somehow next moment, we were walking through the other door. The dark one. It was even more beautiful.

I take a deep breath. The image is vague now, but I can remember the details because of how often I recollected this dream in the attempt to memorize it. "I'm sure it was the same place but at night, as if day and night existed side by side inside that cave. The entire cloudy night sky reflected on the water, and it felt as if I was seeing two mirror worlds from a third person view. But what fascinated me the most was the three moons in the sky. The three were close together, and the one in the center was bigger. But not one of them was reflecting on the water, as far as I remember. All of us were staring at the moons. Then it was time to leave.

I pause, aware that I'm nearing the part I'm afraid of. "Everyone left the room. I was about to leave it last. But when I was about to get out, I saw a gap had appeared between the door and the place I was standing. So my family was on the earthen cave, and I was in the celestial darkness. Everyone was looking at me with lament glittering in their eyes. I remember my Mom's face. She was looking the saddest of all. I remember thinking something like 'This is the sanatorium of the ending". I don't know what that means. But that's where the dream ended."

"This is the sanatorium of the ending," July repeats. He mulls over the sentence for a while. Finally, he says, "Is it perhaps . . . symbolically meaning death?"

"I don't know." I bite my lips. Then I take a deep breath and say, "I saw it three days before Dawn died."

July nods, as if understanding something. "It's weird, isn't it? Our dreams have small similarities."

The window. The river. He is right. "Dreams are such mysteries."

"Indeed. Have you ever seen a dream that came true?"

I try to think. "No, I don't think I have. Have you?"

"Mm-hmm." He chuckles. "But that's for another time. It's very late, so you should sleep. You haven't slept properly in a long while."

"Okay." I abruptly realize that he has gotten closer, as if the world around us is rapidly shrinking without either of us noticing. It is probably intentional. Or it is subconscious. Either way, I don't want him so close, but at the same time, I do.

So I close my eyes to shut him out. My body tensed, heart pounding, I begin yet another bloody battle inside my head. Even through the darkness of my eyelids, his gaze pierces through. Something is building up inside, but I can't seem to put a label on it. All I know, is that it holds the power to destroy everything.

And finally, I feel his forehead press against mine. "Good night, Cedar," he says, his voice awfully near.

I don't dare open my eyes.

.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.

helloooo everyone! :D

hope you're all doing great. what do you think of this chapter?

As I mentioned in chapter 2, and also in December Drizzle, these are all my own dreams, not made-up ones. I find my dreams quite interesting, and I'm glad I can incorporate them into my writing. I think I'm going to put 1/2 more of my dreams in this book. Since Cedar and my life has similarities, many of my dreams will make sense in this story.

Also, idk if you guys remember it, but in the last book there was a side-story chapter of Dawn, right? There Cedar had called Dawn (three days before his death) after waking up from a dream where Cedar thought he died, and that's exactly the dream he was talking about.

Finally, I tried my best to show a distinct difference between the way July narrated and the way Cedar did. But I don't think the distinction is very evident, so I'm gonna work more on that in the future. I tried making July focus more on the colours as he's an artist, and Cedar more on his eloquence with words and better way of describing a scenery, since he's a reader.

Anyways, thanks a lot for reading. Please take care of yourselves. If you have any cool dream that you remember, feel free to share. I would love to hear them. Oh, and pack your tissues for the next chapter :'D

— love, Poma