he sighed, lying down on the bare grass. It was a cool night, with a soft wind blowing through his hair. He felt the ache of tiredness crawl through the warmth of his coat.

He glanced up. The skies were clear, and the moon was a bare crescent. The stars shone all the more brightly. As sleep slowly pulled his eyes closed, a memory flashed through his mind. A memory of a night just like this—but far less lonely.

He’s on the grass… he knows he’s safe. Teacher is nearby, and has given them permission to lie on their coats outside to watch the stars. ‘Them’… yes, he’s not alone. Someone else is with him. He hears the sound of light laughter beside him. A hand comes to grasp his own.

He feels a surge of joy he hasn’t felt in ages. His own bright laughter resounds in his chest. Something’s odd. He can’t be this happy. There is the oddly familiar presence next to him— this presence shouldn’t exist. Internally, he realises the person must be the reason he’s so happy right now.

With this revelation comes the feeling that if he realises who this person is, he will regret it—for this person will disappear, and something inside him will break. His gut tells him not to look at the person beside him, but he is in a haze, following the dream, oblivious to the fact that none of it is real. He turns, his dream state winning, a name on his tongue, following the story. But as he turns, and sees the other’s face—he falters. The shock snaps him out of his happy daze, the dream’s control over him shattering. The face is blank, a blur. A missing part of his memory. He cannot remember the name he’d known just moments ago—an inexplicable fear grasps his heart. He should remember—no, who-

His eyes fly open. Sunlight filters through the gaps of his fingers. He’d slept with his hand covering his face.

He feels the contents of his dreams slip off him like water.

Ah, just another one of those dreams that leave him wanting, reaching for something that’s always out of his grasp. Forgotten… well, it can’t have been that important if he forgot. Judging by the continuity of the dreams, it had been something that affected him, but in that case perhaps it’s better not to prod—there must’ve been a reason he doesn’t remember.

…although he must admit, today’s dream was strangely clearer in his mind than usual. He’s realised it was a ‘person’ missing from his memory.

He sits up slowly. He’s had an unusually good night’s sleep, free of disturbance. How strange. Quite a lot of strange things have been happening these days, haven’t they? Brushing off a few stray leaves off his clothes, he heads to the guild for the day’s commissions.