AN: Just a short thing I wrote at midnight last night. Sorry for any inconsistencies, when I started this I had no idea where it was going. I hope you enjoy it anyway. uwu

Alfred smiled. He wasn't sure why at that moment.

"Goodbye, Yao." He choked.

"Goodbye, Alfred." Yao responded.

Their voices were weary, both of them tired. Yao's life was fading, that much was clear. Or perhaps it was just fading away from him? Alfred closed his eyes. He was prepared for what was to come. Or so he thought. He heard the sharp hiss, the hiss that Alfred only assumed Yao gave upon finding food.

And his eyes snapped open. The blood that ran down his neck rivaled the tears falling from his eyes. He gasped for air. A snap followed, ending his life.

Alfred's eyes widened as he stared into the darkness. The clock beside him read 2:37. His arm slid out of the sheets, falling upon the nightstand as if stings holding them up had suddenly snapped. His hand desperately searched for his glasses, which were in a few moments upon his face.

This time, he needed to be quick.

He sat up straight, throwing the covers off of his well-built body, revealing plain grey boxers as the only clothing he wore.

He stood. He was quite unsteady at first, but he stood. He stood, walked over to the wall, and allowed his hand to reach out and flick on the light.

Wow, that burned.

He quickly headed over to his desk, which sat before the window that showed the city lights below. It was a beautiful sight, but Alfred paid no mind.

He quickly sat down and reached for a notebook in the corner of his desk. It was already open to a blank page, and silently Alfred thanked his past self.

Alfred wrote down what he could.

"His name was Yao, and I think he was dying. He killed me that much I know. Think he ate me. He reminds me of a snake."

The pen fell down onto the paper. Dammit. Why couldn't he remember? Anything, anything? He couldn't remember any visuals, he couldn't remember his voice. He could only remember what he knew happened, what he knew was said and what he knew he felt. He knew he had a reason to remember and he knew he knew the reason, even if he no longer knows. He flipped through the pages of the notebook, hoping any previous entries would spark a memory. They were all the same. Didn't he ever think to write anything else? The notebook was almost empty of clean pages, all that would be left was the same words, the same memories, over and over and over again.

He let out a scream.

And then he remembered. And Alfred wrote another sentence.

"His name was Yao, and I had loved him."

Alfred studied to words, before closing the notebook. It was a red notebook, the words "Dream Journal" written upon it in messy sharpie.

Alfred stood up, turned off the light, took off his glasses, and crawled back into bed.

Maybe Yao would visit him again.

Alfred's eyes widened. Yet again. They were as clear blue ask the sky. A mist surrounded him. Such a milky color. The room was milky. But wasn't he just outside? Alfred did not know. A man appeared before him, but… He was not a man. He was… Something else. His golden eyes resembled a snake, His hair was tied loosely. By the mist? Alfred assumed so, it seemed natural enough, and Alfred could see no tie. He could not tell if this creature's hair was ash, raven, or chestnut. Yet it was so natural. Two horns became apparent through the mist, curling behind his ears like a ram's. His soft face was pale. His arms were crossed at his chest, but Alfred could see the man's sharpened nails. His bare torso, so well-built yet so feminine, lead down to a trail of golden scales, which became plentiful as Alfred's eyes traveled further. They soon connected as a single… body… tail… Alfred was not sure what to call it. Four talons spouted from the scales, that he was standing with, and eventually the body narrowed like a snake, and eventually ended with a tuft of creamy white fur.

His mind told his name was Yao. Alfred grew angry. So this was nothing more than a dream.

"Alfred, you have returned! Please, please tell me you have done as I asked!"

"Who the hell are you? What do you want with me? I've been without rest for weeks because of all these shitty dreams!"

Yao flinched, and his front talons seemed to disappear. He stood on the back to now, the only two, and allowed himself to stand taller.

"So we shall do this again. I apologize." Yao gave a sad smile. "With this evershortening time, I'm afraid I cannot do this for much longer. However, I will try again if that is what it takes." Yao sighed.

"Are you going to kill me again? Is that what you want? To taste my flesh each night?"

Yao sighed. "I will have to kill you, yes, but please hear me out. I do not have much time-"

"You monster, just what the hell are you?"

"I was getting to that, Alfred."

"How do you know my name?"

"Do you really think I would forget?"

Yao signed, his tail curling, the milky fur calming Alfred.

"I am sorry I cannot create the fun dreams I used too, even in the ones which I appeared and you could not remember in the morning."

"What are you saying?"

"What I am saying is what I have said a thousand times over. I am a dream guardian. I create dreams. I can warn you through them, but anything I tell you directly you will forget."

"How come I know you, then?"

"That, I am not sure myself. Perhaps my desperate pleas are starting to work." He sighed, noticing as Alfred's face scrunched up. "Alfred, you are going to die if you do not get help. Please, hear me out."

Alfred opened his mouth to speak, but the dream would not let him.

"Every night for the past two moons you have died in your sleep." Yao spoke softly, his normally harsh eyes saddened. The mist thickened between them, and Alfred tried to move closer to Yao, but he could not move.

"Your heart is failing you, Alfred. You need to seek a doctor. I only wish I could tell you this without appearing, without causing you to forget. But I cannot, for if I do not speak with you, you will not live to see your next day. Please, I do not want this to happen again! I do not want to see another death from your world! Not with someone so young!"

Alfred felt the mist thickening. He could barely make Yao out anymore. He was waking up soon, he knew it, and so he tried to focus on keeping his eyes closed. He could no longer see Yao, but he could hear the panic in his voice.

"In order to keep you alive, I have been feasting on your dreamspan. However, each time I do so, your dreams become shorter. It will not be long before I do not have enough time to revive you. This is not the full story, but what I say is the truth. I need you to remember, please, remember something! Alfred!"

"I remember…" Alfred mumbled the words, Yao had allowed the dream to let him speak. "I remember something. I'm going to assume you told me in the last dream, or the dream before that, or something. But I remembered something tonight. I doubt it';s any help, but,"

"Alfred, if it's proof, you must share, quickly! I need to know if this has a point any longer. I am starting to lose faith."

"Yao, I love you."

"I-" Yao's voice was shaky. "Ah, so you did remember something... It makes me happy to know that. I did not think you would remember such a thing… It has been so long since I you told me the words. I guess, maybe…"

"I suppose I love you too, Alfred." Alfred could practically hear Yao smile, followed by a chuckle.

Suddenly, Alfred remembered. He could clearly see Yao's face. He could hear his laughs. Everything. Distant dreams as a child. Dreams he had always woke up to and questioned what happened. A child, him, riding on Yao's back and pretending to slay him. A teenager, talking to Yao about his problems. An adult, admitting his love, over, and over again.

An adult, crying because he had forgotten so much.

"I'm waking up, be quick this time. I'm sure that I won't forget this time, please! Kill me, do what you have to so I can see your face again, do what you have to so we can discuss this again! Please!" Alfred sobbed.

And then Alfred heard a hiss. And Alfred smiled. He remembered it so well. It was not a hiss of hunger, but a hiss of pain. The emotional pain that was soon conveyed into Alfred's physical pain.

He gasped for air. But the final blow never came.

Alfred did not wake up.