you made hell feel like home; any

[rapt]

there is a dream in the space between the hammer and the nail ------ the dream of about-to-be-hit, which is a bad dream ------------ but the nail will take the hit if it gets to sleep inside the wood forever He is still staring at the monster when the world briefly ends. The desert dissipates, gone in a blink, but the monster stays. Smiling and terrible and beautiful, he stays. There is no sand beneath their feet – it seems there is nothing beneath their feet at all, yet Rapt has no sensation of falling. He has not taken his eyes from the monster, breathless in his rapture, but he hears her. My little boy, she says, and yes, he must belong to her, to that cold touch of fangs, that voice like silk. But he also belongs to the monster, that man who laid fear into his heart in the sweetest way. He takes a step toward the monster. He feels the familiar curl of fear in his heart as he comes closer. He looks back, to see if she follows, or merely watches. What big teeth she has! She seems more beautiful than he recalls. Everything is more beautiful. Is he? It doesn’t matter. What matters is this monster. Monsters don’t like to be kept waiting, she says. “No,” he agrees, voice soft, “no, they don’t.” He takes the final steps forward, falls to his knees at the monster’s feet. Only then, does he say his name. “Pollock,” he says. There are tears on his cheeks, from fear, from love, from happiness. “You came back.” He looks back to Kagerus. “You’re incredible,” he says. To her. To Pollock. To this world. rapt caius x else