#to writing an entire series of dreams that belphie infiltrates/creates

[inb4belphienaps]

boundaries (continued)

<pt. 1> warnings: mention of nightmare (bugs), suggestive dialogue (?) word count: 1383

later that night, as you lie in bed staring at the ceiling, you try to picture where the butterfly had gone. something tells you that it dissipated, faded into the air after you'd returned your attention to him.

you recall the intensity with which he'd looked at you and you clench your jaw. the color of his magic is that of his eyes. a wonderful mixture that reminds you of sunsets over the water, where the sky melts into the land and the horizon becomes blurred.

beautiful. he's beautiful.

overwhelming at times but not in a way that deters you. had he been a tad more impatient or a pinch more entitled, you reason that you would've thought twice about helping him.

it was odd. how alluring he could be, how alluring he is. or perhaps you were doomed from the start. he's easy to talk to and you find yourself rambling every now and then. he never really interrupts you, if only to ask a question regarding an aspect you'd neglected to mention.

did he only show interest because of his circumstances? were you only preferable in lieu of the silence he had to endure alone?

you remember the feel of his lips. the way his breath had tickled your palm and you shiver. if you were to allow yourself to imagine, how would his lips taste, you wonder.

as you close your eyes in a bid to find out, you slowly drift off to sleep.

while belphie settles in under his covers, he concludes that he'd been far too pessimistic. you were open to letting him in, within reason. he'd scrapped the plan when he'd realized how you received him.

the way you didn't jump to conclusions or assume things on your own (so unlike a certain someone else he knew). the way you'd seemingly wanted to believe him, even before he'd started to explain himself.

he'd forgotten humans could be like that too. naïve and willing and...pure? he shakes his head. he'd never liked that word as an angel and now as a demon, he disliked it all the more. it was the connotations. except, he didn't know what other word to use to describe you. had his days in the devildom led him astray?

you'd been receptive to his kiss, he recollects with some semblance of embarrassment. it'd felt right at the time. yet as he turns the lights off, he wonders what he would've done had you not been as yielding.

and then, as if on cue, his mind reminds him of That Plan. he mulls it over briefly. and his desire to know whether you'll dream of him tonight because of what happened wins.

so he relaxes, shuts his eyes and lets his magic spread. slowly, from the cracks in the walls and through the gate, this attachment he'd formed to you, helps to guide him.

he's able to reach you and a rush of excitement causes him to pre-emptively enter your room. his vision isn't as clear as he'd like it to be, given the limited amount of power he could use with lucifer's enchantments in place.

it's comforting to see you asleep. he definitely would've foregone the effort had he found you awake.

although he's tempted to feel out the bits and pieces of your room, he focuses on your figure and lets his magic seep in.

entering dreams usually requires a minute amount of exertion and depending on the dream itself, he's often able to emerge in the background of the scene taking place. it helps when he's trying not to disturb the person dreaming. and in this case, that's the last thing he wants.

he recites the verse – once, twice, thrice for good measure.

the first thing that greets him is the sound of music. dreams, however confusing and muddled they could be, were only perceivable if they were felt. the tune is soft, and he takes a step forward, opening his eyes to a forest of some kind.

sunlight wafts in through the tree branches, bouncing off of leaves and droplets of what he gathers to be water (despite their honey-like nature). there isn't much movement aside from that. as if the landscape were frozen in time.

walking along a hazy path, he comes to a clearing and finally, he sees you. there you are, ankle-deep in a river of sorts, swaying and twirling in the middle of a kaleidoscope of butterflies. they're dancing. with you, it seems.

a lovely dream, he thinks. entirely innocent when compared to the types of inclinations he'd been hoping to find.

he follows your line of sight and he sees that the sky is painted mauve, dotted with clouds of pink and blue. awfully quaint. he catches a droplet falling from an elm and he watches it burst in a manner quite unlike normal physics would suggest.

it continues. weeks pass of him doing this, invading your dreams, and your suspicions grow ever nearer to the truth.

on one particular night, you're left feeling distraught.

this dream had been personal. it'd manifested in the human world. at home in fact, in the comfort of the house whose layout you knew like the back of your hand. concerns that plagued you played out like segments of a movie haphazardly thrown together.

anxieties and concerns weaved their way in. and so did belphie, apparently. he'd shown up during a rather horrible instance, when you'd curled up on the floor and tugged at the carpet, which had fallen apart in your hands.

only, it wasn't carpet. it was hair. and there hadn't been solid ground underneath it. instead, critters with thousands of legs and pincers that 'click-click-click'-ed emerged, crawling their way onto your hands. before you could scream, he'd pulled you away. and the scene had dissolved to the two of you lying together in bed.

you'd kissed him on those pretty lips. gone as far as to admit something to him too.

and so when you return to the attic to confront him, you're afraid of the consequences.

"how long?"

he looks at you with hooded eyes, not a hint of emotion betraying him. he needed to know where you stood first.

"how long have you been coming into my dreams like that?"

you hold up the charm solomon had lent you, the round gem inside it still glowing.

"i thought- why...why would you do that?"

"i only did it recently. after you told me you dreamt about me."

your mind reels to conjure up the memory of that day. the day you'd come to him slightly tipsy (again, thanks to solomon's certain 'privileges') and you'd made a fool of yourself. shame flares up in your stomach and you avert your gaze.

he'd argue otherwise if he knew that that was how you saw it.

"fuck. i thought you'd forgotten."

he snickers. and you have a half a mind to throw the charm at him. if only you knew how long he'd really been invading your dreams for.

"i wanted to see what they were about."

you tense at that. quickly stuffing the charm back in your pocket, you cross your arms.

"those are my dreams, belphie. what if you'd seen something...terrible?"

"if by terrible, you mean us christening the bed, then i'd have to say i disagree."

the blush on your cheeks has him grinning.

"that- please! i- i'd never-"

you pause at his expression. he sees you consider it, the thought fleeting through your mind in real time.

"okay, maybe, maybe i'm more perverse than i'd care to admit. but. and there is a but. it still doesn't give you the right to do that."

he chooses his next words very carefully and lowers his voice.

"not even when it means that we could meet in your dreams?"

another pause. you were too honest. he could read you so easily like this, how that offer makes you reconsider. you were beginning to become incredibly fond of him already, weren't you?

"i hate you."

he laughs unabashedly and you smile despite yourself.

"i pick the time and place though", you quickly add.

you think he's only nodding in response until he catches your eye and leans in, pressed up against the metal to say, "of course".