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The first time Iwaizumi gets shot down from the sky by a heat-seeking missile, he still has seven hours left in the dream. He dies slowly in the wreckage of his Japanese fighter jet, the shrapnel in his gut poisoning his blood even as his skin boils black and oozes through the cracks of third degree burns. He lies there, gasping desperately for air, and all he knows is the cold, clawing of fear and pain and a loneliness so acid it almost drowns out all the rest.
The taste and shape of Oikawa’s name hovers on his lips as he jerks awake.
After that, Iwaizumi keeps a gun strapped to his chest whenever he is under, and every time he wakes up, gasping from the imagined pain of a bullet to the brain, he thinks of Oikawa and the contagious naiveté of academia, and he thinks of good intentions.
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Note: No extensive knowledge or understanding of the Inception movie is required for the enjoyment of this fic. -
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Not sarted yet.
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i’m confused
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Dreamscape AU
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