Pleasant Dreams
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CHAPTER 1: remembering
A Get Real Fanfic by Cassy;-)
If you've never been truly, thoroughly kissed by someone you adore, then you can't know what it was like to be kissed by John Dixon; to have John Dixon run his fingers through your hair or cup your neck; to have John Dixon walk up behind you and circle his hand around your waist. There is a reason they called him John Fucking Superman Dixon. However, none of them quite got the validity of that statement as I did.
If you ever looked deeply enough into his eyes you could see all that he was hiding from the world. In fact, once I had done so, and his secrets were all revealed to me, I wondered why everybody else couldn't read his face like I could; why they didn't understand what he was thinking; what his eyes were practically shouting to the world. Were they blind? No, more likely they didn't want to see, so they didn't look in the first place. I for one could never understand why people wouldn't want to understand those around them; wouldn't want to know the heart of John Dixon. But then, I can't remember a better feeling than being let into John Dixon's heart.
Even now, as my eyes dart back and forward under their lids (in the way that they tend to do during deep sleep) I experience a feeling of wonder that John Dixon ever loved me. You may wonder why I always refer to him as John Dixon, but to me it's perfectly understandable...there are some people in this world who are just too special to have only one name. You know the way it just doesn’t sound right when someone refers to James Dean as just James or to William Shakespeare as Will. I mean just John could mean anyone, but when you add that one word to the word Dixon, then you have the name of the most beautiful boy who ever lived, the boy who loved me, and anything less would just be, well...less.
It is true that he hurt me more than anyone I ever knew, but he also loved me more completely than anyone ever had. They say the end of loneliness is not feeling loved but knowing someone else needs your love, well John Dixon needed my love, I knew this without doubt, he needed me more than he needed anyone else in the world. I understood him, I loved him completely, as he was and not how he pretended to be. Though I’d had sex before I met him, I’d never truly made love, I’d never known what it was to belong completely to someone else, to see yourself as you were, reflected in their eyes. He was a part of me, and he still is.
Even now, all this time later, in my sleep, I still feel his hands on me, caressing my face, his lips kissing my neck, his breath on my cheek. I see his face so clearly, hear his voice in my ear, he is looking at me and whispering. I strain to hear him, lean in closer...and I wake up.
“Good morning Stephen Carter.”
“And a good morning to you John Dixon.”
“Pleasant dreams?”
“As always.”
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