— Haruki Murakami, Dance Dance Dance (via whyallcaps)
1800 wordsish. R rated. Someone just get Derek a blanket, please.
The first thing Derek does when he gets back to the loft is make a sign on an old piece of chipboard. It reads: ‘Dear assassins, fuck off: I’m human.’ He puts it against the window so that it can be seen from the ground, then he goes to bed. The night is quiet and dark. He feels as if he’s wrapped up in a blanket, as if he’s trapped within the confines of his body and can’t escape. It’s easier to get to sleep without his hearing. He tentatively puts that in the plus column, turns the pillow over to the cool side and digs his toes into the sheets, pressing himself into the mattress. He feels as if he’s going to float off if he doesn’t. He’s cold, but he isn’t used to wearing anything more than boxers in bed.