A Nightmare of Woods on a Snowy Evening

[ too lazy to make a new outfit so he was sleeping in this pfff ]
also emetophobia tw and also gross tw bc it's gross vomit stuff

There were things that Trent would never get used to, especially ever since he began living alone. The first being that he hated doing the dishes, even if all he had to do was fling his wand around; Merlin knew that he left his trash around without a second thought, especially ever since Katherine wasn't around to tell him he was being a bum. The second being, he could never get a proper wink of sleep, as he spent his nights dwelling over every little thing, and it was beyond fucking him up the more he aged. And, of course, the third being the unbelievable pain he felt in his very being as the full moon drew closer and closer upon the night sky.

Tonight was probably one of the worst he had experienced in a while.

Something about the unfathomable, existential dread that hid beneath day to day routine made the pain all that much worse. As if his shitty, angsty psyche was coaxing the aches and blood to build up to the point where he couldn't stand it. Forcing oneself to down a glass of tar to rid the nightmares away. Forcing oneself into pleasantries so that other people wouldn't suspect anything. He had woken himself up in the middle of the night, having finally fallen asleep, but the pain and taste left on his tongue had broken him down. The vomit burned his hands, disgusting chunks of gooey leaves and blood. Through the build up of tears, he wondered if this would mean another month without Wolfsbane. He sat on the floor, staring down at the mess he made after falling out of bed, trying to decipher what the fuck was wrong with himself, but...

The banging on his door broke him from his wide-eyed trance, as well as the slop dripping from his fingers and to the wood below. He cringed and whipped his hand to shake off the remnants, the puddle diminishing away through the sheer force of magic he willed through his panic. He may not be able to clean his room, but he sure as hell wouldn't leave a pile of vomit on the floor like a fucking dog. Nor would he eat it like a fucking dog, as desperate as he was.

Cleaning his hand uneasily, he paused before the door in puzzlement. No one ever visited him this late at night, and through the pain and embarrassment, he was becoming increasingly annoyed. He didn't want anyone around him when he was like this. But, to politely tell the unwanted company to get the fuck away from him, he threw the door open wide enough for his figure to emerge from the dark.

"What?" Snarling through his teeth, spit dribbling to boot. But when his gaze fell down to the tiny figure of Mirai Kei, he visibly relaxed, albeit his expression remained absolutely tired, as if awaiting his own death. "Ah... It's you," He looked behind him, to see if anyone else was around, "Uh. Right. Is there something I can help you with?" He wiped his chin with his sleeve then, pulling back his aggression for the sake of a friend. But annoyance still bubbled within, something he couldn't shake. He was never very good at self control.

Travis seemed much worse off then he was when he finally opened the door with a snarl. As the other man calmed down he noticed just how haggard he looked and regretted waking him.

"Sorry," he said, "I didn't mean to wake you. I just... Can I come in?"

He didn't want to explain out in the hallway and honestly he didn't want to lie either. With how tired the man seemed it didn't seem fair to say he's been bored, but he also didn't want to explain that he'd had a nightmare were any passerby could hear. He tried to lean past him to see the room but unfortunately failed to see anything in the dark.

"I'm sorry to intrude, I just," he paused before continuing, "are you okay?"

It was very clear that the other professor was not but he wasn't going to force him to talk about it if he didn't want to. The shakes had left him and he could just go out for a walk out... No, if he went outside, especially if he went anywhere near the forest while outside, he'd probably end up panicking and burn a good portion of the forest to the ground. Not something he'd want to do so soon after being hired, or at all.

"I really am sorry to bother you," he said finally.

But not sorry enough not to have came or to leave now. He knew the fear was probably still clear on his face. That and he hadn't payed much attention to his hair or robes, he probably looked heavily disheveled, which matched how he felt.

Immediately, Kei started professing his apologies, and Trent exasperatedly closed his eyes, his fingers pinching the bridge of his nose. No, he wasn't upset with Mirai. Mirai was kind and conscientious and well meaning, and Trent was a big fucking asshole that was ruining practically the only friendship he had on campus. He wished, with all his might, that this had been absolutely anyone else interrupting his puke fest, so that he could be justifiably angry. And yes, Trent couldn't shake the rancor in his bones, but there was no reason for him to snap at his friend.

"Nooo, Kei, please," He murmured, "Don't apologize. Just... Come in, come in." Stepping aside, he waved the Ravenclaw into his office, hoping to god that the guy couldn't smell the awful mess that was his everyday life. It wasn't until he closed the door behind his coworker that he had the nerve to finally part his lips, accepting this privacy to be adequate, and uttered, "I'm sorry." Something he would never say to anyone that wasn't his friend. But it was genuine, and he felt like shit. Past the still obvious fury that burned beneath his tired expression.

"Don't worry about me... I'm a grump when I wake up," He lied, and continued to lead Mirai further into his private quarters, where existed his one room living space. It included a mattress, a ragged couch, a bookshelf filled to overcapacity with literature he was fond of (as well as personal journals), a cupboard, loads of trash covering the floor, and a coffee maker. As well as the walls being absolutely plastered in photographs he had taken in his youth; but Trent didn't really take pictures anymore. That passion sort of died out when the realities of adulthood kicked him into submission long ago, and he couldn't find it in himself to ever rekindle it.

But, he started the coffee maker-- a magical, little trinket that conjured and brewed its beans in the guise of a black iron kettle-- and offered Mirai a ceramic cup, which was... Clean... To an extent. "What's wrong?" He spoke with a yawn, scratching his back aimlessly, as his skin crawled beneath his sweater. Normally, he would strip down and be done with it, but he refrained from exposing himself in front of any sort of company, ever. Not even for the good bits. "And don't--" He put his hand up then, as if to silence his friend, "-- Don't think your bothering me, okay? You're not bothering me." It was possibly impossible for Mirai to bother him, under any other circumstance in the very least.

As Mirai stepped into the room he noticed the clutter: the trash on the floor and unwashed dishes. Trying to focus on the mess that was around him rather than the mess that was his thoughts and emotions. As Tobias apologized he simply smiled ruefully, he’d done nothing wrong. The mess wasn’t bothering him currently but, it was giving him the itch to clean. A few waves of his wand and he could be on his way to straightening out the mess around him. If only fixing the mess in his head was that easy.

As he followed Trent farther into his quarters, he looked around at all of the pictures. He’d never been good at photography, or any artistic things really, but he appreciated the skill in other. Talking the cup he was offered they got to the hard part, actually talking about why he was here. Why was he here? It wasn’t like he wanted to talk about what had happened to him. Did he? He’d be better off wandering the castle until exhaustion made him return to his room if that had been the case. At least then he’d be able to get away with only small talk. He hadn’t talked about this with anyone, which was probably the reason it was having such an intense effect of him. He tried to arrange his thoughts in a matter that could be comprehended before speaking, although they were racing so fast it was hard to get them into any order.

“Do you ever have dreams that feel so real?” he started, before stopping, “I mean, situations that happened in the past but refuse to stay there? It’s just…”

He paused looking around the room, the mess around him making it harder for him to think. Trent couldn’t like living like this, could he? It was making Mirai feel anxious just being around it.

“Is it okay if I clean while I talk? I won’t, if you prefer it this way but it’s easier if I have something to do besides think, and a clean room makes it much easier to organize one’s mind. Especially when it tends to be as disorganized as mine."

There was an uneasiness is Mirai's tone, which is something Trent obviously noted before, but there seemed to be slightly more to it. Like he was unsure if he wanted to be there. And honestly, that kind of irritated the Gryffindor, but he dug his fingers into his scalp and ignored it. He would have his shitty, angry panic attacks some other time, not when he was in the company of other's. Especially when he was overreacting to a simple feeling, rather than actual evidence of rudeness. As Trent leaned down to open the cupboard, Kei paused in his speech, and Trent paused from finding a new cup.

"Is it okay if I clean while I talk?"

Ah, of course. Red blotches speckled his cheeks and he nodded sheepishly, "Oh... Go for it. Er... Sorry... 'bout that." He didn't need to dance around the fact that Trent's room was fucking disgusting. He could straight up call Trent a disgusting slob and he'd accept it. That was the thing about Trent, he took criticism well, he just didn't appreciate it from people who had no business giving it to him. Kei was a good person. Trent got that. And if he wanted to slap Trent around and call him gross, he could. The worst that would happen would be a tent in his pants springing itself up.

He opened the cupboard then, which let out an audible hiss as soon as he reached his hand in for another mug. Out came his cat, whom must have hidden away during the night to brood by himself. As the cat waddled its ass out, he hissed at nothing in particular, and Trent gave his butt a soft pat. "Don't be like this, Fat Daddy," He murmured. He sniffed the cup he acquired subtly, to see if the beast had used it as a lazy litterbox. But the smell of cat pee just existed around the creature as an aura, so it was a constant mystery that he wasn't fond of figuring out.

Trent rose from his squat and flung himself onto the couch in wait, leaning against the armrest as he watched Kei start working. "There's trash bags in the cupboard, if you... need them..." He felt awkward saying that, as if he was glad his friend was cleaning him room. He wasn't, but... He definitely appreciated it.

But, to finally answer his question, "Yeah, I have a lot of... Realistic dreams, mhm. Things that would be better off dead and buried six feet deep in the back of my mind, but you know how it is." In truth, he couldn't blame anyone for being frazzled over such a thing. Especially to the point of seeking shelter in another. Trent didn't have the guts to seek other people out when he was struggling, often finding himself suffering alone or drinking alone or skipping out to a bar and spilling out onto some sad sack's stomach. That's what it was like being multiple degrees of Not Okay and Trent's age, he guessed. He waited patiently for Kei to continue, cup clasped in his lap and palm holding up his chin from the rough armrest.

As soon as he got the go ahead, he pulled out his wand and started cleaning. Charms was one of the few branches of magic he could actually preform well, and cleaning charms were something he was actually good at. As he started moving the trash, or at least what he assumed was trash into a corner to be bagged, he heard a hissing sound. He turned to see Trent petting a rather grumpy looking cat. As he heard the beasts name he laughed. Apparently Travis's sense of humor extended to pet names'.

He wondered where Mr. Paws was anyway. The half kneazle normally could tell when he was having a nightmare or after he woke up from one. She'd plant herself directly in his chest when he was hyperventilating, which made him breath slower under her weight. He's moved her once he'd called down but she helped calm him down a lot. There was something about petting a small furry animal that was extremely relaxing. However he wasn't about to try and pet Travis's cat. He had a feeling he'd get bit, or scratched, or both, if he tried.

When Trent told him where the garbage bags were, he flicked his wand to opened the cupboard, revealing a large roll of trash bags. Moving his wand skillfully three floated out, opening themselves and moving to the corner where the trash was. Another wand movement and the debris flew into them. He then took to cleaning the dishes as he finally started talking.

"My trip to Japan was not as uneventful as I'd have liked it to be," he started, "things happened which I still haven't completely resolved."

As he floated the dirty dishes up into the air, he filled the one sink with soapy water and the other with clean. Flicking his wand once more the dishes started doing themselves.

"That's further complicated by the fact that, well" he tried to find the right words, "I met someone there and I would have stayed for him but. Well, Japan's very different than the U.K.. While the fight for equality, in regards to sexual orientation, ended here a long time ago, it only started a decade or so ago over there. The stigma hasn't even started to fade. But that's not the point, I'm completely off topic."

He bit his lip. Trying to recenter himself, he started cleaning the floor now the trash was all gone and neatly bagged.

"How do you live like this?" he spoke more to himself than to Trent, "I'm sorry that was rude it's just, I don't do well with mess. Clutter is okay, clutter I'm used to, so as long as it's organized. Organized chaos I call it. If you saw my room, well it's similar but with clothes and divination apparatus scattered all over the floor. I have like three tarot decks all mixed into each other. I may be missing some cards from some of them though which would make the deck trash... Okay, I'm rambling. I'll stop talking now."

The dishes having all clean and dried themselves, he returned them to the now clean cupboards with a light flick of his wand. He was happy to at least be accomplishing something, even if he was talking nonsense.

Trent listened to Kei speak, eyes following him as he went on, fingertips tapping silently against his cup. He could tell he was nervous, even past the shitty welcoming Trent gave him, he could sorta smell a build up beneath the skin. Something that was only obtainable during these parts of the month, luckily lost the rest of the time. Being able to smell sweat wasn't something Trent really cared for unless it was under the right circumstances. The Cat climbed onto the couch then, hardly able to jump or hold up his own weight anymore, and Trent gave him a proud pet as he scowled up at his owner. There was nothing like a grumpy pet that gave Trent the same amount of adoration.

It was then that Kei mentioned it. The homosexual bit. And Trent's gaze flicked back up to him idly. Of course, Trent knew all along, but the confirmation was in front of him now. He figured most of it was all in his head, and maybe at least half of it was, but... That wasn't the point, was it? Kei wasn't here to shag him, even if that was all Trent normally thought about. The point was that Kei had issues that Trent could level with, even just a tad, but obviously not to the same extent of isolation. "Don't worry about it," Trent told him, but,

"How do you live like this?"

A barking laugh came from Trent then, and he stifled it with his sleeve. He waited until Kei settled down, chuckling helplessly beneath the fabric of his sweater. "I'm a fucking mess, what can I say?" Trent replied with a guilty smile, "I don't know, man. I'm just not used to having people around me. You grow up trailer trash, you never really escape it." He stood up then, a heavy shrug being all he could add to that. Even when he was adopted by a nice family, his habits never really left him. He was all guts and grime until he reached about fifteen years old, and only then because he finally had a breakthrough about his feelings and finally decided to make an effort. Of course he felt better when he was clean and when his room was clean and when he wasn't covered in absolute filth everywhere he went. But it was hard when he hardly felt like he could open his eyes, let alone lift his wand or sit in a shower.

Pouring a cup of coffee for himself, he opened a ceramic jar on the counter and dumped in a horrendous amount of sugar into the black depths. "Don't apologize, yeah? You can ramble all you want, if it helps," He replied, a bit fatherly in disposition even if he didn't mean to be. It came with age, he supposed, even if he realized that he was still rather youthful in spite what he feared in his twenties. When your thirties came, nothing changed for the most part. Trent was just a bit more of a loser. "Did you have a nightmare about him then? Or was there something else?" Green eyes fell back down on the tiny man, remaining patient through the grumpy aura he continued to beat down into submission.

As Trent laughed Mirai calmed down a bit. Even though Trent covered his mouth it was a nice laugh, a true one if rough, which seemed to sum up Trent pretty well. An honest, sincere person who was a little rough around the edges. Mirai could understand that, he wasn’t exactly put together himself. Especially after what had happened in Japan. It was reassuring to see someone who was much if not more of a mess than himself but who was still functioning, if poorly. We all need help now and again. Mirai wouldn’t be here if Haru hadn’t stepped in. Hearing Trent talking about growing up the way he had reminded Mirai just how lucky he was to have his parents.

He smiled as Trent validated his rambling, looking around at the nearly spotless room. He was right, cleaning had helped, as had talking. Even if it wasn’t about what he was worrying about. Talking about anything was better than worrying about that thing. As Trent asked if Haru had been the problem Mirai started shaking his head.

“No, Haru wasn’t… How we met was odd. I had made the bad decision to walk through Aokigahara, also knows as the sea of trees, after a period of heavy snow. The woods there are so beautiful. It’s so thick that they block out all sound besides that of the forest. In winter it’s as close to true silence as one can get.”

He took a breath, getting himself some coffee before continuing. Summoning some cream from his room, he put in a bit of sugar in before pouring his cream. Sending the cream back to were it came, he took a sip of his coffee before turning around. Summoning himself a cushion he took a seat on the now clean floor.

“I don’t know if you’ve heard of the spirit know as Yuki-Onna, or snow women in english. There aren’t any in Europe, and they're rarely seen, even in Japan. Well, I’d chosen a bad time to walk through that forest. One of them started to… ensnare me when… I wasn’t paying attention to my surroundings so… well.. Haru arrived just in time. But my mind doesn’t seem to be able to comprehend what would have happened otherwise. I mean I know that I would have died but… Well, I’m not used to having my own close to death encounters."

He was used to seeing other people’s however. The future was rarely certain and having an eye that was too open to it was dangerous in more ways than one. He couldn’t count how many times he’d seen his family and friends get injured or nearly die as a child. He’d had to learned how to suppress it, twisting the ring he’d had for so long, now cold and tight on his finger. He’d been looking at his coffee as he'd talked, staring into the light brown of coffee that was mostly cream. It was letting off steam still, warming his hands as he spoke. It grounded him, allowed him to talk about what had happened without getting again in those forests.

Trent listened carefully, sipping his coffee with idle hands. A lot of Kei's explanations weren't really necessary, but he appreciated them just the same. If there was one thing Trent was good at, it was indulging in copious amounts of reading in his spare time. In fact, that was basically all he did nowadays. It was funny, because he actually considered teaching Math prior to Muggle Studies. His talent was in Math, it was just a bit... Boring to him. All those numbers. They didn't make him think about much. So he read a lot, about different places, about different things, and quite a chunk just so happened to be Japanese.

He recalled reading a book about this forest, when he was a kid. Tired eyes remained on Kei's expression as he spoke.

"That's... Interesting, if you don't mind me saying," He nodded slowly, "The idea that these mythological beings are actually real is... not really surprising to me anymore." There was an awkward laugh. He didn't even know werewolves were a real thing until well into his schooling. Hazy thoughts traced back to when they first spoke. Kei mentioned the ghost before, but Trent waved it off. Even if the thought seemed a little silly to Trent, whose core nature fit the calling of a Gryffindor, he understood different things frightened different people. Would he have fared any better? In the case of a deathly ghost?

When he was mauled by that werewolf, Trent didn't feel fear. He felt anger, and it melted into depression. That's just who he was, he supposed. He couldn't understand Kei's fear, but he could understand his trauma, and he bit his lip as he considered this. "Makes sense why you'd be shook up. Lucky that you're still standing here, that's bloody amazing, isn't it? Makes the whole thing seem less... Horrific," He gave Mirai an honest smile, sharing his own internal thought process with his own brush with death, in attempt to alleviate the mood, but... It faded, and he ran a hand through his hair uneasily.

"Would you mind telling me why you decided to take a stroll in The Suicide Forest?" Trent asked finally, and it was then that he broke his gaze to the bottom of his cup. He didn't mean to sound stern or accusatory, like a disappointed old man, but it was the first thought that came to mind. It made sense that a malicious spirit would find him there. She was probably sad or lonely or vengeful for how people treated her. It was a topic Trent didn't fare well with. There were things that were once detailed in his past, touched close to home, and he had long since distanced himself from them. "I guess that's none of my business," He added, suppressing irritation by gulping down the rest of his coffee.

As Trent spoke he calmed down considerably, not used to having someone to talk to. At least not recently. It had been a lonesome few months, mostly spent watching television with his grandparents. They didn’t ask any questions which was nice, though they were happy when he’d found a job and moved out. Taking another sip from his coffee, he wasn’t quite sure if his being here was amazing. I mean, he guessed it could be. But all those scars from his past? He didn’t want to have them. Nor did he want to lose them. He just wished he knew how to heal them, instead of letting them rub raw every snowfall.

Mirai looked up at Trent's next comment, surprised that he knew the forest's other name. He hadn’t expected that. Though the explanation wasn’t a bad one, he just didn’t care to seem like he was bragging.

“The longer I stayed near there, the more visions I had of people killing themselves in those forests. Eventually I learned the best way to cope with it was to go talk to them before they died. It was one of the few times I’d let my abilities run free on other people’s lives. I was able to walk out of those forest with nearly every person who walked in,” he spoke, remembering so many conversations, so many unhappy souls, “I guess that might have been what upset the spirit. I was stealing her prey.”

He hadn’t thought of it that way before. From some accounts, Yuki Onna needed to kill in order to survive. So maybe that was why he was targeted. It both made sense and comforted him to have a reason for it. For him nearly dying being because of his actions not just chance.

“Haru was the last person I walked out with,” he said, “or more, he walked out with me. It’s almost like that was the reason I kept going back. But well, fate is a tricky thing. It doesn’t always act how you’d expect and never how you want it too."