Saltwater Dreams 🔞

by Daydreams_and_Delusions

Summary:

Rak has spent years pretending he doesn’t need anyone. It’s easier than admitting how deeply he’s been hurt, how badly he wants to be loved, how the nightmares are only getting worse. After betrayal leaves him shattered and sleepless, he hides himself away in a penthouse full of warm lamps and cold silence, convinced this is all he deserves...

Mut never meant to step into someone else’s darkness again. He’s rebuilt his life piece by piece, choosing quiet mornings, ocean tides, and a home filled with memories of the mother he lost. But when he’s asked to look after a fragile author who’s barely holding himself together, something in him refuses to walk away...

Notes:

• For CagedNightingale.

Chapter 1: Rak

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For as long as Rak could remember, he’d suffered from night terrors. Not your average, run‑of‑the‑mill nightmare where you find yourself standing naked in front of your class, but the kind that left him screaming until his throat hurt and wetting the bed.

 

By the time he was four, his parents had had enough of his “hysterics” and sent him to the far side of their massive house. There, Rak was looked after by a rotation of nannies until he was old enough to be shipped off to boarding school.

 

Away from his family, Rak found himself thriving… At least in the quiet sense of the word.

 

At school there were no disapproving glares from his father, no uncomfortable dinners spent listening to his parents verbally cut each other apart until one of them dramatically threw down a napkin and stormed off.

 

And best of all, there was no older sister trying to put dirt in his bed, tie him to a tree, or push him down the stairs.

 

His parents were wealthy, as were most of the kids who attended. So it was only natural that jealousy and bullying shaped the school’s hierarchy. Rak was small for his age and lacked the emotional reactions the other students needed to understand him, so he was quickly labeled a freak and left to his own devices. 

 

Not that he minded. It was more peaceful that way.

 

His night terrors never stopped; if anything, the older he got, the more vivid they became. Rak forced himself to stay up most nights, burying his attention in books and study notes. It helped his grades substantially, but when he started disrupting classes by falling asleep and screaming himself awake, he was sent straight to the school counselor.

 

…At least he didn’t wet the bed anymore!

 

The school counselor couldn’t convince either of his parents to attend any of his review meetings, so the school referred Rak to a psychiatrist outside the campus.

 

There, Rak spoke openly about his nightmares, his parents’ lack of actual parenting, and his troll of a sister. The psychiatrist put him through a series of tests… some strange, some boring… and eventually concluded that Rak showed signs of flat affect and alexithymia.

 

Flat affect was mostly found in infants and usually faded after a few months. But Rak had been passed between nannies and left to his own devices for most of his life, so he’d never learned how to express his feelings. His night terrors sure as hell hadn’t helped.

 

Rak felt all the feelings he was supposed to; happiness, sadness, annoyance, fear… but they never seemed to reach the surface. He just didn’t know how to express them, and after a while, he stopped trying. It was easier to let everything sit quietly inside, untouched and unbothered.

 

His psychiatrist; a woman clearly obsessed with the idea of expressing one’s feelings, gave him a large journal and told him to write down everything he felt during the day before going to bed. Rak didn’t argue. He just took the book, nodded, and left. It wasn’t worth the energy to explain that he didn’t feel much of anything other than annoyance…

 

Wednesday: Math test questions were easy - happy. Students giggling during class - annoyed.

 

Thursday: PE class - annoyed.

 

Friday: Girls in class kept passing me notes - annoyed.

 

Saturday: Spent the day in the library studying - happy.

 

After two weeks of the same, Rak stopped writing down his feelings. What was the point when nothing changed?

 

Then one night, after waking from a brutal night terror and too scared to try sleeping again, he grabbed the journal and started writing out the nightmare. At first, it was just fragments, but when he added people… characters who suffered the way he had… the pressure on his chest eased a little.

 

In it, he poured himself out slowly, creating a nightmarish world that haunted him every night. Once the entire horrific episode was out on paper, Rak fell asleep… for thirteen straight, dreamless hours. 

 

The next day, when he finally woke, Rak lay in bed staring at the ceiling. Never in his twelve years of living had he slept so deeply. He felt out of sorts: strange… almost alien in his own body.

 

For the first time since he could remember, Rak began to cry.

 

His night terrors had always felt like a curse, a punishment for some unknown sin carried over from another life. Each broken night of sleep had pushed him closer to madness, and without knowing how to ask for help, he hadn’t realised how suffocating his life had become.

 

Rak’s mind had been so exhausted that he’d never noticed how boxed in he felt… how alone, how confused. A good night’s rest had brought clarity, and with it came emotions he wasn’t ready for. Emotions he didn’t know how to handle.

 

Now Rak found himself trapped in a quiet dilemma: live like the walking dead, or face his feelings alone… suffocating under a new kind of nightmare.

 

Day by slow day, writing became a kind of therapy for him, at least to some extent. Rak found himself spilling his nightmares onto the pages, forcing his characters to fight, to mourn, and to feel every confusing and suffocating emotion he couldn’t name himself. 

 

But… he was still in high school, and when students got bored they got mean...

 

One morning, a boy from his dorm stole Rak’s journal, mistaking it for a personal diary. He stood in front of the class and began reading from it, hoping to humiliate Rak for a few laughs.

 

That particular story was about a mother and daughter on the run from an abusive husband. They ended up stranded in a northern town after crashing their car; where they met a bounty hunter hunting a mysterious, murderous creature that haunted the hills behind the town.

 

Their teacher stopped Rak’s classmate from reading further when he reached a particularly gruesome scene, calling the story “horrific and highly inappropriate.” That didn’t stop the boy from reading it aloud later in the common room… and then again on the lacrosse field. 

 

Rak watched the crowd gather, dreading the possible social lynching he was about to face… yet he couldn’t help but feel free. He had poured his nightmares into that little book, and with one careless swipe of someone else’s hand, they were gone. 

 

He walked back to his room feeling somewhat lighter.

 

It didn’t surprise him that someone was cruel enough to steal his journal, mistaking it for a diary. What did surprise him was the number of students who started hunting him down for the next part of the story. They crowded him in the cafeteria, the student hall, even leaned over him in the library.

 

His story spread like wildfire after one student scanned the pages and posted them on the school forum. 

 

Rak wasn’t a fan of all the noise and attention, but when students started telling him they’d had nightmares and “couldn’t sleep for days,” something in his chest fluttered. For a moment, he felt… not so alone. 

 

It wasn’t comfort exactly, but it was connection, and that was close enough.

 

After that, Rak made a beeline straight to his quiet corner of the library, opened a new notebook, and began writing out the last few nightly horrors he’d lived through.

 

Since the story of that murderous beast had been taken from him… dragged into the open by someone else’s voice… it had vanished from his nightmares completely. As if that thread of terror had been pulled free from his mind. 

 

He still had nightmares, but no longer was he plagued by that long‑clawed, ugly‑snouted creature that used to drag him underground…

 

***

 

Two years after starting therapy, Rak sat in the waiting room with the new girl from school… Vivi. She’d only been there three weeks and had already beaten up four boys and two of their girlfriends.

 

She didn’t look sorry about it either. Rak watched her from the corner of his eye, quietly fascinated by how someone could be that angry. This school was her parents’ last resort before sending her overseas and washing their hands of her altogether.

 

He wondered: did she truly not care? Or did she hide her true feelings underneath the anger like armor?

 

Vivi recognised him, and sat next to Rak, asking all sorts of questions about his stories. She told him they were the only interesting thing about their school.

 

Rak hadn’t said much… he never did. Nor did he smile or say thank you. But instead of staring at him like he was strange (like most people did), Vivi simply smiled and opened her phone, scrolling until the room filled with comfortable silence. 

 

At school, Vivi began sitting next to him in the food hall and in the classes they shared. She walked with him between lessons and took his phone to exchange numbers without asking. Rak wasn’t big on talking, and he didn’t know what to make of someone who didn’t seem to mind his silence. 

 

But as days turned into weeks, then months into years, Vivi became his best friend; the one steady anchor in his endless sea of sleeplessness and nightmares.

 

***

 

On the first day back of their last year of high school, Vivi threw herself into the chair across from him in the empty study hall and immediately started in on him. Her voice filled the quiet space like she owned it, mischief already sparkling in her hazel eyes. 

 

Rak looked up from his notebook, half‑expecting her to scold him for sneaking off to the study hall without her, but she only grinned…

 

“I’ve just had a brilliant thought! You know how I was telling you about that website where people post their sexy fanfiction? Well, I was thinking, since you bought that fancy new laptop, you should stop printing out your stories like vintage newsletters and get with the times.”

 

Vivi had shown him that website a hundred times, mostly because of the outrageous tags, but now she showed him a blank profile.

 

“InSomnus? …They haven’t written anything,” he said quietly.

 

Though he was more confident around Vivi now, he found conversing with anyone exhausting. Luckily, his friend enjoyed sitting in silence… most of the time.

 

“That’s because it’s your profile! I applied for it like a month ago. I opened a new email for you too… that way your personal emails don’t get mixed up with your readers.”

 

Rak looked at her for a moment.

 

“But I don’t have personal emails.”

 

Vivi rolled her eyes.

 

“Just trust me. I have a friend who didn’t, and her notifications pop off at the most inconvenient times.”

 

Rak nodded, though he had been honest. Apart from school newsletters and teacher notes for upcoming classes, he didn’t get any emails.

 

And apart from the daily text messages Vivi sent, Rak’s phone stayed silent. He and his family didn’t speak… ever.

 

Six months after he and Vivi became friends, his parents had gone through a messy, and very public divorce. His father had been caught with his much younger personal trainer. And both had tried to bully Rak into speaking publicly on their behalf, (to villainize the other.)

 

Not only did the idea of speaking in public sound horrendous, but his parents were no better than harp seals: the very second Rak had become an inconvenience, he’d been banished to the far side of the house and then shipped off to boarding school.

 

He never went home during school term breaks; knowing his family were off on some lavish holiday without him… So he chose to stay at summer school, or camped out in villas, hotels, or actual campgrounds.

 

And that’s what he’d told the divorce judge in the two letters he wrote on his parents’ behalf. The letters never made it to court, but they certainly did make it to his parents. Rak was relieved he’d had the foresight to move a good portion of his trust fund into a private account.

 

Afterall, when his father called to demand an explanation for such “ungrateful and blatant disrespect,” and Rak had only replied with a middle‑finger emoji and blocked both their numbers, his father soon froze his trust.

 

His mother however, had driven all the way to his school, gotten lost because she’d never actually been there before, and then dramatically slapped him in front of the entire assembly.

 

It had taken three teachers to pry Vivi off her after that…

 

Funnily enough, his parents, who had never been able to agree on anything, publicly separated “amicably,” claiming that the stress of raising a “troubled child” like their son had driven them apart.

 

They’d labelled Rak slow, prone to fits, bed‑wetting, and said they’d had to send him into therapy at an early age. But after “all that time and money,” their son was now a “heartless little beast.” His mother’s exact words…

 

Rak had stopped listening after that. There was only so much cruelty he could manage. In the darkness of his room, lying alone in bed, he let himself sink into self‑pity. The thought came quietly, almost like a whisper; had it not been for his night terrors, perhaps his parents would have loved him?

 

But then again, he had a tendency to make even the average person uncomfortable. He’d been told he stared too much, spoke too little, and that his lack of emotional expression was “creepy.”

 

The only person that seemed to like him was Vivi. …And her mother. Vivi’s father was nice enough, but it was clear he found Rak… unsettling.

 

***

 

After high school, Rak and Vivi went to university together and lived fifteen minutes off campus. Vivi studied drama, while Rak studied literature. His InSomnus account had done so well that he’d gained over three million subscribers. 

 

The number didn’t mean much to him, but being able to connect with people while purging his nocturnal demons was the closest thing he’d found to balance. Each posted story was like a silent exorcism, giving way to nights of blissful, dreamless sleep. 

 

During their last year of university, Vivi came to him with several letters; all from publishing houses. She’d gone behind his back and sent in his online stories. 

 

The publishers wanted to sign him immediately, but Rak didn’t want people discovering that the “spooky genius InSomnus” was the son of the great romance novelist, Pitchaya Lapchardensap.

 

The thought of being associated with that asshole made his stomach twist painfully. Anonymity had always been his only source of true freedom from his family. He might not like his family, but he knew them well enough to know they’d either sabotage his success, or come to him with their hands out.

 

Vivi’s mother, who was a lawyer at the time, sat Rak down one night when he was over for dinner with a business proposal. She offered to be his legal counsel and a sort of go‑between… As a thank‑you, she said, for “putting up with her rebellious daughter all these years.” 

 

Rak didn’t know what to say. Expressing gratitude had never come easily to him, but the offer felt like a lifeline. 

 

Each time Vivi’s mother met with a publishing house, Rak brought her flowers; pink roses, to be exact. The kind she always hinted at liking when her birthday or Mother’s Day drew near. 

 

It became a quiet ritual between them, his way of saying thank you without having to find the words…

 

The contracts were simple enough, and his stipulation to keep his identity hidden was welcomed by every publishing house. On top of that, Vivi’s mother suggested he might like to choose a new name; a clean slate, she called it.

 

He choose Rak Kealoha.

 

Rak was short for love in his language, a nickname Vivi’s mother had given him from the very beginning. It just seemed logical to change his first name to that. At least in his mind…

 

Kealoha meant “the loved” or “the beloved” in Hawaiian. The first place he’d ever gone on holiday with Vivi’s family. 

 

After his parents had dragged him through the press; the newspapers and podcasters began calling Rak the unloved child. And every time he saw it… heard it… his chest tightened painfully. 

 

Because Rak didn’t want to be the unloved child… He wanted to be loved, to be cherished, to be taken care of. He might not have known how to ask for it, but there were nights he wanted it so badly he could hardly breathe. The loneliness pressed against his ribs until it felt like he was drowning.

 

Our Own was the publishing house he chose in the end, and Connor; his new editor, spoke to him exclusively through email for the first three years. 

 

Their exchanges were always polite, efficient, and professional… Until the first time Rak was taken to hospital for exhaustion…

 

From then on, Connor made it his personal mission to keep Rak on track and out of the hospital as best he could. It was nice to have someone to depend on, especially with Vivi in France, starring in a new TV series. 

 

Connor’s mother-hen-like presence filled the silence she’d left behind…

 

His first book, published under the name Rowan Knight, reached number one on the charts in less than two weeks. 

 

It told the story of a boy born into a loveless family; a movie‑star father, a socialite mother, and a younger brother obsessed with tennis. The boy suffered from terrible nightmares, mostly about a shadow that stood at the end of his bed. 

 

As he grew older, the shadow appeared more often, filling him with a fear he couldn’t name.

 

The boy’s family eventually sent him to an institute, telling the world he was a little monster. But even there, he couldn’t escape the shadow…

 

Rak wrote of the boy’s abandonment, his father’s affairs, his mother’s indifference, and his brother’s desperate chase for fame.

 

In the end, no matter how hard the boy tried to earn his family’s love, they turned their backs on him. 

 

On the night he decided to give up, he discovered the truth; his father had made a deal with a demon, trading his firstborn son for fortune and fame. The creature the boy had seen all those years was real, haunting him for his father’s greed.

 

The book ended with the boy snapping, killing his entire family, and being sent to a hospital for the criminally insane. There, he sat in his cell, talking to the demon like they were old friends.

 

Rak had been having the same night terror for months; a dark figure at the end of his bed, or sometimes beneath it. The memory of it clung to him like humidity; thick and suffocating. 

 

It was what led him to fill his room with warm, glowing lamps. He was an adult now, yet still scared of the dark…

 

After the money from his first book began to pour in, Rak moved to sever ties with his parents. The decision shocked them for a moment, before they signed the papers without hesitation. He was finally free of them. …Or so he thought.

 

Rak had made enough money to give him the freedom to work from home; something he’d only ever dreamed of at university. His night terrors still waged war on his sleep and his nerves, but at least he didn’t have to wake early, catch a bus, or even change out of his pajamas.

 

The next book came easily. He worked on it continuously, finishing with a month to spare before the deadline for revisions. 

 

This time, he wrote about a married couple who solved supernatural problems; performing cleansings and exorcisms, chasing away the things that haunted other people’s homes.

 

It was lighter than his first novel, in the sense that he got to add a little humor between the couple, but the horror and sheer spookiness of it hadn’t changed.

 

The book had gone down so well with sales that his publishing house begged him for a sequel.

 

He gave them five books over five years; each one filled with unsettling plots, sharp humor, and characters who blurred the line between good and evil. …Lovable people turned monstrous, while villains met their ends in ways that felt much deserved. 

 

The fifth and final book closed the circle: the married couple faced a cult leader who turned out to be the same little boy from Rak’s very first novel. What followed was a mystery TV series, seven films, and a graphic novel. The world devoured his stories, pulling each nightmarish thread from his soul, never to fear them in his sleep again.

 

The money poured in; left, right, and centre. With the help of his lawyers, Rak bought buildings, renovated them, and rented them out. From that income, he donated to schools, funded scholarships, and sent money to hospitals that needed it most. 

 

He was, for all intents and purposes, a recluse. Yet every now and then, Vivi would use him as her “date” to parties, only to abandon him the moment a director walked past. Rak didn’t mind, at these parties full of the rich and beautiful he could take his pick…

 

At an early age, he’d always known he favoured his own sex. He used to sit by the library window nearest the outdoor courts, watching the boys play basketball. Rak would hold his breath every time they jumped, drawn to the way their muscles moved beneath sweat‑slick skin, and the brief lift of a shirt revealing the curve of their stomachs.

 

In university, Vivi had taken him to watch one of her boyfriends compete in wrestling. The moment he saw the ring; all those brawny men in lycra, muscles gleaming under the lights… he just knew. 

 

It wasn’t the sport that thrilled him; it was the spectacle of strength, the way those heavily built men threw each other around in a show of dominance. Something about it stayed with Rak, shaping his tastes and his desires…

 

Once he knew what he wanted, he only needed to figure out how to get it. 

 

Much to his surprise, sex was easy to find. Thanks to Vivi, Rak took care of himself… at least physically. He was still tired, still carried the usual dark circles beneath his eyes, but he looked younger than he was and never struggled to find a bed partner.

 

Sex, in its simplest form, didn’t require much talking. And for the first few years, Rak simply experimented; learning what he liked and what he didn’t. He was honest with his desires, though his exhaustion often made him sound curt, or sometimes even rude. 

 

Yet no matter how abrupt he was, when it came to sex, he got what he wanted. And he loved every moment of it; the heat, the closeness, and the fleeting illusion of power.

 

Love however, didn’t come as easy for Rak…

 

His first boyfriend had been a senior from his class, and Rak had fallen for him instantly. But in the end, all the feelings had been one‑sided. The boy only wanted him to pay for everything, and was only sweet to him when he needed something; like his speeding fines paid, or concert tickets for him and his friends.

 

Rak’s final straw came when his boyfriend cheated on him at that concert. He could tolerate a lot… he’d even admitted to himself that if love had to be bought, then so be it. But cheating was different. It was the one thing he couldn’t excuse, the one betrayal that made every compromise feel foolish. When he walked away, he didn’t look back, nor did he forgive…

 

His next boyfriend did the same thing; stayed with him until his car and school debt were paid off, then left for a drummer of some band from the States. 

 

What followed was a string of lovers who were kind, caring, and quietly conniving. They used his money to fund their lifestyles while Rak sat at home, waiting on bated breath for their calls. 

 

Rak began to tell himself, over and over, that this was as close to love as he was ever going to get. Soulmates and true love were fairytales… stories people clung to for comfort. At least, that’s what he chose to believe. It was easier than admitting the possibility that he simply wasn’t worth loving.

 

Then he met Mattias… his biggest mistake.

 

After swearing off relationships, Rak went to the bar with Vivi, determined to drink himself numb. The moment his friend slipped away with a female security guard, Mattias approached him. 

 

He was tall, fit, and handsome beyond belief. He bought Rak’s drinks all night, and by morning, they’d ended up in bed together.

 

What followed was a hunt; full of flowers, dinner invitations, and pretty little cards left at his door. Mattias had taken Rak’s phone number while he slept and began sending him morning and evening messages.

 

It was the most effort anyone had ever put into him.

 

Rak had tried pushing him away, insisting he wasn’t interested in a relationship. But Mattias only smiled, saying he didn’t care what they were, as long as he could spend time with Rak. And little by little… With each “not‑date,” each morning waking in his arms, each night spent being held through nightmares, Rak fell in love again.

 

This one was different, he told himself. Mattias had money, never letting Rak pay for anything. He was faithful, never looking at anyone else when they were out. And he even got along with Vivi, never an easy task…

 

On the weekend of Rak’s birthday, Mattias took him out to dinner and surprised him by asking him to marry him. They’d only been together for nine months, but Rak was desperate to lock him down, and he said yes without hesitation.

 

They’d picked the venue and paid the deposit. The band was booked, the cake ordered, and Rak had written out his vows.

 

But Vivi, his best friend, had smelt a rat. 

 

Though she’d been on the other side of the planet shooting her next blockbuster, she caught a red‑eye flight straight to him, carrying a single USB drive. Inside were photos, phone recordings, and emails between his fiancé and Rak’s sister.

 

They had a plan: marry Rak and take everything he owned.

 

It was all there…

 

Mattias had suggested a prenup from the very beginning, but the way it had been worded filled Rak with a mountain of guilt. He couldn’t bring himself to question it, couldn’t bear to confirm that he himself had doubts. So he refused to meet with his lawyers, who were already pulling their hair out over the details.

 

Rak sat at his desk with Vivi beside him, and with each opened file, he felt his heart splinter into a thousand pieces.

 

There were photos of Mattias and his sister together. A child they’d had. Pictures of the couple dining with his mother.

 

There were phone conversations between Mattias and his sister, laughing at Rak’s expense. 

 

Recordings of the two joking about how they would “off” him.

 

And if that wasn’t enough, one of these secret recordings captured his mother’s laughter; her voice suggesting they switch Rak’s sleep medication for something a little more lethal.

 

He didn’t want to believe it. He couldn’t believe it… But disbelief didn’t stop him from calling his bank and removing Mattias from his contacts. Nor did it stop him from phoning his lawyers.

 

Within twenty‑four hours, Rak had a restraining order and a team of attorneys serving his mother, sister, and fiancé with court notices for attempted murder.

 

Like a pack of wolves, his legal team tore through the three of them until there was nothing left; no defense, and no leg to stand on. Their lives were in his hands now.

 

Vivi was calling for blood, and so were his lawyers; the court room had buzzed with their vengeance, but Rak couldn’t stop thinking about the baby; his little niece. If he destroyed her parents, her life would be ruined before it had even begun.

 

So he packed away the pieces of his broken heart, and made a plan of his own…

 

All three had to sign NDAs. They didn’t have to repay the money they’d been siphoning from him, but they did have to delete the videos Mattias had taken of him and Rak in bed together. 

 

They were forbidden from contacting him, speaking about him, or releasing any information related to him. If anything leaked through a third or fourth party, his lawyers would move immediately to reinstate the attempted‑murder charges.

 

Before Rak washed his hands of it all, he set aside money for his niece; a trust she alone could access when she turned twenty‑one.

 

The very next day, Rak packed his clothes and put the apartment on the market. Then he moved into one of the empty penthouses he owned, hoping to erase the nightmare as quickly as possible... 

 

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