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"Hob Gadling. Lucienne recently informed me that not only have you not been in my realm as of late, your presence there has been absent for over a century. How is this possible?" Dream's voice thundered across the flat, heavy and demanding with the weight of the question.
Hob, however, barely moved. He didn't even need to look up from where he was on the couch, laptop balancing precariously on his knees, and fingers frozen above the keyboard to see the expression Dream had on his face right now. His eyes were probably darker than any night sky Hob had ever seen with little flecks of light that shone brighter than any star he'd slept under. His face was likely all scrunched up in that cute way he got any time something concerned him, but the seriousness of his tone indicated distress more than anything else. Their relationship had definitely grown since Dream's return but it was still unlabeled, still something fragile and new that Hob was afraid of ruining once more.
So he stayed silent. Not because he was ignoring Dream, but because he was frozen. He was supposed to be grading his students' papers, he'd promised them that it would be done before the end of this week, yet here he was staring at the torturously bright screen, unable to move. It was practically blinding but it helped him forget just about everything that was wrong with him. Like the fact that Dream was right and he really hadn't slept in over a century. Or that he'd slowly lost his mind over the years and was just really, really good at pretending he hadn't.
"I'm fine dove." Hob's words came out low and soft, like he was afraid of being heard. Or more accurately, he was afraid of hearing himself speak. It had been enough of a struggle to do so in class today and all it did was remind him of the utterly, grating sound of his own voice and how it felt when his voice box and every muscle moved to produce those sounds and he hated it. He could feel it and all he wanted was everything to be silent for once.
"You did not answer my question Hob Gadling," Dream rumbled as he made his way over to Hob, taking a seat at the opposite end of the couch and facing the man.
Dream glanced away from him, acting strangely guilty as he spoke hesitantly, "I... understand if my previous actions are the cause of your absence and I will not further trouble you on this matter if that is the case."
Hob was focusing on Dream now. That was always a safe thing to do when he got like this. Focusing on how beautiful and nice and amazing and incredible Dream was. His strength was something that Hob admired and found himself somewhat envious of those days. But focusing on Dream was much better than focusing on the steady beating of his heart (rip it out) or the way his lungs swelled with every inhale he took.
Hob lowered his head, cheeks heating up as blood surged in his veins, thick and hot making everything inside him throb with the memory of his own pulse. He exhaled but exhalation brought no relief; the hiss of air through his teeth sounded like escaping steam from a boiler, serving to remind him that every breath needed to happen again, and again, and again. It was agonizing the way his body felt so foreign yet intimate at the same time.
He hated this.
Hated the way that every part of him insisted on awareness. The way every sensation, every vibration, every single voluntary and involuntary motion seemed to amplify and spiral into an obsession he couldn't control. His thoughts sound like a whirlpool of think, think, think and then don't think, don't think, don't think, until the very idea of thinking itself became unbearable.
But he struck through it all like an unwavering arrow determined in its course. Dream, who had shadows that clung and shivered around him. Dream, whose very presence seemed to have the air itself bending in a way that managed to make the thrum of Hob's senses settle into a background hum. It was as if his body recognized a higher law that allowed it to simply exist without tearing Hob apart.
And it felt damning, these few moments of peace granted to him when Dream was around. Oh, what a blessing it would be if this could last forever. Hob could not even remember what his life had been like before this affliction.
"It's...it's not your fault Dream," he whispered in a low voice, as he shut the laptop closed and deposited it on the nearby coffee table.
Dream didn’t immediately respond, leaving the silence to stretch between them as he watched Hob. Then quietly, he spoke, “I would not have you suffer in silence. You are my friend. Tell me what befell you.”
Hob laughed, humourless and dry, though it felt nice to be called friend. “I doubt you want to hear it, mate.”
“I do.” And there was a gravity to Dream’s words that made Hob’s chest tighten.
It was what made Hob look up, gaze no longer focused on his lap and more on the man, or rather, the being before him. The expression on Dream’s face was soft. Less like the stern monarch and more like the man who returned to the New Inn, meeting with him once more, well after a hundred years.
“I was cursed,” Hob said finally. “A long time ago. 1922.”
“A curse?”
“Yeah,” Hob swallowed hard, throat still dry and aching but forcing himself to focus on Dream and not the action itself. “I don’t know who did it or why. It was a late night and I don’t remember much after I got home. All I remember was that I couldn’t sleep.”
He sighed, continuing on as he dragged the story out of himself. “At first, I thought it was stress. You know, just overworking myself and the like. Then weeks passed. Months. Years. I tried everything. Medicine, magic, prayers. I’ve never been much of a religious man, Dream, but I was so desperate. Every time I shut my eyes, I just…stayed there. Awake.”
His nails dug into his palms as he held Dream’s gaze, voice tight. “Do you know what it’s like to feel yourself exist for every moment for over a hundred years? To feel trapped in your own body, awake and aware, and wanting nothing more than silence?”
Dream said nothing, still listening, but the way the room darkened could not have been a more clearer sign of his reaction to Hob’s words.
“I paid someone to kill me once,” Hob continued. “Didn’t even flinch when I asked. All I wanted was some peace,” his voice cracked at that as he struggled not to let the tears fall. “And I died and it was so quiet. But then I woke up.”
“You sought my sister’s gift because you were denied mine.”
“Gift? I suppose you could call it that. It’s not like I wanted to die, not really, but I was just so tired.” Hob’s voice came out raw with the pain that had been locked in his heart for well over a century. For years, the immortal had no one to turn to. No one to tell and even when Dream returned, he hadn’t seen it fit to share his struggles with the Endless. Not when Dream had his own.
“Why…why did you not tell me this earlier? I would have helped you.” To anyone else who didn’t know Dream half as well as Hob did, he came off as angry, and he was, to an extent. But it was more of a righteous anger at Hob’s situation, never at Hob himself.
Hob shook his head. “I guess I started thinking it was my punishment. For living too long. I didn’t want to burden you, Dream.”
“You could never be a burden to me, Hob Gadling,” Dream whispered and leaned closer and gently placed one hand atop Hob’s and the other hovering near his face, terribly unsure. For a being of dreams, he looked oddly terrified of harming something so real.
“Will you permit me to rid you of this curse?” Dream asked.
Hob nodded without hesitation. To think he would finally be freed from such torment. (And to think, there is a world in which this never happens. Fortunately, this is not that world.) Dream’s hand came to rest over his eyes, cool and impossibly gentle. Hob felt the edges of his consciousness fray as the hum beneath his skin and the relentless drum of awareness began to dim.
Dream’s voice wrapped around him like a soft blanket, warm and easy to fall into. “Sleep, Hob Gadling. Be freed of that which binds you.”
Hob exhaled, a long and shuddering thing as his body slumped forward into Dream’s waiting arms. His chest rose once, then twice as he reveled in the silence that filled the space and drifted off.
“Rest well, my friend. I shall keep watch over you.”