Late Night Tales
 
(Sandman! Norway x Reader)

 

Please listen to this while reading!

‘The time to sleep’ by Marble Sounds

LINK to song: www.youtube.com/watch?v=T8PHNe…

Reader pov-

"Huh...." Sighing deeply I look to the gray skies; down pours are scheduled for later tonight.

 

Hopefully I'll be back inside by then.

 

Maybe.

 

Sighing calmly I walk past the people that passed by me like a school of fish; where as I take a the path less taken, towards a sight that most people dread and deem unethical for a girl my age.

Typical.

 

Where am I going you ask? To a place that I truly belong, where I should have gone all those years ago in his place.

Fucking asshole.

Speeding up my pace I can't help but let a small grin cross my looking glass as the harsh fall winds hit my pale face.

It's almost here, I can smell the water in the air.

Looking up I see large puffs of gray.

 

His favorite color.

Hm. Maybe the gods were looking down on me tonight.

But then again, I would have rather had them do it a long time ago, when I cared.

Passing through the eternally silent streets of my companions home do I finally slow down.

"Almost there." I say allowed, already feeling the syndrome slip into my subconscious.

 

I'm tired.

 

I can't do it now, I can't. Not yet.

You're falling in a lower gear

A little rest is what you need

You're rolled up on the seat

Your arms round your knees

Stopping at one of the simpler structures, covered in stone fairies and a small wooden troll I'd made for him a few trips ago, still in pristine condition.

Mother nature’s been kind for once.

"Lukas, I've come to visit again." I let a fake smile sketch itself onto my face.

 

He'd always been able to see through my mask, yet I show it to him here.

 

Why? You ask.

 

I know as much as you do.

"How have you been?" I ask to the slab of marble where my angel slept peacefully beneath it.

 

I look at the carvings that broke my heart every time I read it.

 

Here lies:

Lukas Bondevik

May 17th, 1989 to November 20th, 2011

A loving brother

A trusting Friend

A kind Co worker

A wonderful fiancée

He will be missed dearly

 

"I hope you're having fun wherever you are, poker face." I can almost hear his voice 'tching' me from within the harsh winds.

"Whatever." I giggle and sit on the semi wet grass.

 

It seems like the angels are beginning to weep.

 

I wonder why.

Lukas was there, wasn’t he?

He was plenty sunshine for them and enough mystery to keep one guessing for years.

Damn and I was just about to try and take a nap.

"Well, I suppose I should go, I know you wouldn't want me to get a cold." Rubbing my hand against the top of the stone, trying to show my affections to the man.

"Good night Norge." Without missing a beat I get a sense of irritation from my side telling me that he'd heard his always-hated nickname, Courtesy of our other friend Mathias and me.

 

 

But that's another story.

 

I stood up, collected my things and scurried along the brick walkway of the cemetery.

 

Turning my head back quickly to check in case I'd left something, I saw (thought) a quick glimpse of a waving blond figure with piercing cobalt eyes.

 

"It’s just SAD messing with me. I'm seeing things again." I turned back once more to see nothing but the several wet, gray slabs of stone.

Just my imagination.

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"That's everything right?" I asked a close relative of mine, a tall handsome swede.

"Ja." Nodding slightly, the gentle giant left the spacious loft.

"I guess it's time to work." I clapped my hands together before looking down at the large white canvas, just begging to be filled with my artistic creativity.

 

Sighing loudly I looked over at some of my other pictures from the past, much of them being of nature and frustration.

My therapist prescribed art as a window to keep my depression at bay, and it seemed to work for a few years, with me becoming a well-known artist by age 15.

But then it happened.

On my way to one of the artist open studios.

He had to give up his own life for me to finish what we had started.

 

I never did finish that picture.

 

I glared at the furthest corner of the gallery.

A small canvas hanging on the wall, a black sheet partially covering it from my view.

 

If you looked close enough then you could see part of a sketched face.

 

I never knew whom I wanted to draw.

 

Whatever.

Looking back to the large crisp canvas with a poker face, I turned to the door, shut off the lights and left.

I'm not going to get anything done like this, I need inspiration.

Leaving the quiet home of Berwald, I engulfed my self in the busyness of the inner city.

"Maybe a walk in the park?" I asked myself before speed walking their.

We met by chance, talked on the phone

We kept in touch

I took you home

Sure it proves we get along

And it will get better from now on

I didn't like people. I never did, I think that rubbed off from Lukas.

But then again. He's the one person who I was able to walk and talk with while being with lots of people without feeling too uncomfortable.

Those days were over though, that girl is gone, along with him.

All that's left is this shell of a person I'd become.

Where did I go wrong?

 

Giggling at the questions I was asking myself I looked up.

I knew damn well why I was like this.

I'd let my feelings die off and the darkness of depression swooped back in.

That's why.

I tightened the scarf around my neck as I sat down on a bench in front of one of the many well-decorated Christmas trees.

I never understood why people skipped thanksgiving.

Is it the hype of family times? Or the wide range of presents people received from loving parents and friends?

 

Who knows.

 

After about another hour of looking dully into the many souls that happened to pass by I stood up once again going back to my studio in a huff.

 

I'm cold.

So very cold.

 

I was beginning to nod off again, but the insomnia wasn't going to have that. Nope.

Huh...

 

Entering the apartment, waving to my cousin without exchanging words, I'd turned back on the lights and sat back down where I was just 3 hours earlier.

I grabbed a black pastel crayon and looked at it for a second.

The amethyst colored markings it made in my fingers which would defiantly smudge my works, bothered me.

 

'Tch'

Typical 1st world problems.

 

I was about to give up entirely when I noticed something in the corner of my eye.

A bug.

A dark blue bug, abnormally large in size.

I watched as it flew from the open window which venalated the entire loft.

It buzzed its way over to me in a fast but steady pace, almost as if relaxing me.

Hypnotizing me with its hypnotic movements.

My hair swooshed hitting me in the face.

All that for a measly bug?

 

Why...

 

I cleared my throat and ignored the bug before getting back to work.

That's when it landed right where my hand was scaring the shit out of me.

"Epp!" I cried; it just sat there unaffected by my fright, beady eyes waiting for me to calm down.

Damned bug.

Ignoring it, hoping it would go away I started to try and sketch.

 

But that damn bug would block my path as if wanting me to follow where it went.

 

"What the...." I watched as it's blue body would twitch and move, telling me to hurry up.

 

As if against my will I followed it, through turns and straight lines, curves, and parallel vertex’s.

I was making something.

And before I knew it I'd sketched a face.

But not any face, oh no, no, no.

Finishing a body, arms, hair, and features in quick fluid movements; I felt as though my hand had a mind of its own, flicking my wrist at inhuman pace.

As if someone was guiding me.

I even put the figure besides a familiar window, which sat snug in the corner, where I would always watch the people below me with lack of interest.

 

I had no idea who the bug had me drawing though.

That bothered me.

When suddenly it hit me like a ton of rocks.

Slowly looking up to where the bug once was was a hand in its place.

 

But not any hand.

The hand that had helped me through so much; the skin as milky white as I'd remembered it to be.

My eyes continued to scroll up, when I soon saw a toned chest covered by a sailor's shirt.

I remember buying that for his last birthday.

 

Finally. I'd made it to his face, heart shaped with a soft jaw line, dark blue-gray eyes stared lovingly into my own lifeless ones.

 

Who was the dead one again?

Before I could utter another word I'd felt my sleep deprived body fall to the floor and relax.

Standing right in front of me was someone I hadn't seen in years.

"Få litt søvn, ok?" I listened to his soft foreign words, as they flew from his thin lips lulling me to sleep.

We found a place which we drive

And I offer you a little time

To sleep—to dream

To wake up when we arrive

"Thank you, Lukas. For being my inspiration."

 

He smiled.

And I'd fallen asleep, only to feel my body be whisked away into oblivion.

 

Finally, I could rest.

.

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Finally.

End