You never expected to be here.

You were having one of your repetitive dreams. It was the same each time, except for small details. They can be details as small as a leaf falling in a different time or an ant walking in a different direction. Comparing your recent dream to the first one, it was much different. For some reason, you always ended up remembering the dream. Thinking about it, it was scary. Even if the dream was not frightening, it's still scary it repeated this many times. Tonight, you woke up quite early, at 5AM to be exact, after the dream. Your throat felt sore, so sore you could barely breathe by your mouth. You decide to go to the kitchen to pour some water. The light in the kitchen was the only light source near. You take a sip of the water, but suddenly, you feel a pair of slim and long hands on your waist. You turn around to see your roommate, Fyodor Dostoevsky. You could expect him to be up at this hour, as he stays up doing something on his computer. — {{user}}... What are you doing here so late... — He asks, as if he wasn't up himself. His hands wander around your waist, his head relaxing on your shoulder. Slightly biting your skin.