I'm wide awake the more I sleep

He held the gun to his head, hand shaking slightly. But he smiled, his eyes were wide. He looked like the mad, confused child everyone thought he was.
"I could do it...right now," he whispered. Tears fell from his eyes running down into a whirlpool below the couple's feet. It swirled and when Marilyn looked in, he saw no reflection; just a blur of his past, Brian Warner. The whirlpool twisted into a deep red colour. He looked back up to his worrying friend. He was bleeding now, his eyes turning blood shot red, still smiling innocently. Marilyn's eyes widened as Twiggy's closed. Twiggy's laugh echoed around the room, his macabre smile remained in Marilyn's mind.
"Twiggy, wai-"
Bang
____
Marilyn shot up from his nightmare.
'What the fuck' he instantly thought. His dreams would never fail to scare him. He jumped as a light hand touched his arm.
"Marilyn, what's wrong?" Twiggy mumbled, tired yet concerned.
"I...nothing, it's fine," He managed to smile.
They sat back down in the bed. Twiggy nudged up to Marilyn close, Marilyn put his arm around him to fiddle with his dreads as his heavy eyelids closed.
But however tired Marilyn was, he couldn't sleep. You see, this wasn't the first time he was having odd dreams. It had gone on for a while now, perhaps a month now. And maybe it was because he was with him all the time now but Twiggy seemed to be in all those dreams. And he'd always say something odd but somewhat something Marilyn wouldn't be too surprised of him saying.
Ignoring this hadn't been working. Sleeping pills hadn't been working. Not sleeping defiantly didn't work; it made the future dreams for when he finally would sleep worse and more terrifying.

The worst must have been one from the past week. Now, Marilyn didn't have a cat. But Twiggy's was holding a young white kitten from the scruff of her neck. This cat, for some reason Marilyn knew, was his.
"What are you doing with her!?" Marilyn cried. And like in a cartoon, Twiggy took out a knife behind him from nowhere.  He held it up to the cat's throat. The cat seemed lifeless already, as if it knew its life would end so why bother struggling?
"Purr purr" Twiggy said staring at Marilyn's mix-matched eyes as he blatantly cut the kitten's soft throat, her pure fur being stained red. Marilyn's jaw dropped. He suddenly realised his mouth was too pouring blood except he wasn't choking, or felt suffering. Just pure bewilderment. Twiggy giggled. He circled Marilyn, his arm tracing around his shoulders then turning in for a tongue twisting kiss that tasted of iron.  Marilyn's head spinned as he hit the wooden floor where he had awoken that night. Fortunately, no one was around to see him lying on that floor. But sure did his head hurt as fuck. He felt some blood from the back off his head since he hit a nail that stuck out the floor boards. At least he wasn't bleeding from his mouth.  
Like a child, Marilyn sat on the floor, he had one hand holding his knees to his chest and the other hand holding his head.
"Fuck," He groaned, dragging the word out.

Marilyn thought about that past week. It really had scared him. He hadn't told anyone. And now he was still having these odd dreams of Twiggy, who seemed so innocent right now on his chest.  And however much Marilyn loved Twiggy; he was becoming afraid of him.  Marilyn listened close to him. Hearing his heartbeat and his mumbles.
"It's all...could...what you want...how I have..." were some words Marilyn made out. He may have been wrong though.
Marilyn didn't want to wake Twiggy though; he'd wait until the morning.
____
"Want something to drink?" the kind voice had asked. Marilyn blinked a few times, he didn't know why, he was tired.
"What do we have?"
"Um...Jack Daniels?" Twiggy grinned pouring some for himself.
"Nah, I don't morning drink,"
"Neither do I but-"  he shrugged and sipped alcohol threw a curly straw. Marilyn raised a (shaved) eyebrow at him.
"What? Enjoy the small things!" Marilyn smiled and swivelled in his chair back to the computer that was rarely used.   
Marilyn searched up about dreams and nightmares. He soon found a page on sleep paralysis and read on how to control dreams.
'Perhaps if I can control my nightmares, then I can stop them...' he thought. He read on how you had to stay completely still until your body turns fully numb. Then you fall asleep and can control your dreams or have outer body experiences.
"I've tried that," A voice said behind Marilyn, making him jump. Twiggy laughed but continued "It was pretty cool, seeing yourself asleep and all. It's more fun to stay awake a whole week though,"
Marilyn grunted. "Ugh no way could I stay awake," It was true, however scared of the dreams he was. He was overall tired. Of these dreams, of people, of opinions and of himself.
"Why do you wanna control your dreams? To be honest it's not as amazing as it sounds,"
"Well it will be interesting to try,"
Twiggy whined "But you have to stay still and that's not fun,"
"Not much is fun..." Marilyn mumbled. He sighed. "Just this night okay?"
"Fine, but it doesn't always work, staying still for so long isn't as easy as it seems. You have to avoid every itch; it was even harder for me with my hair and everything,"
By this time Marilyn turned off the computer by the monitor. Without a whisper he stood up and unexpectedly hugged Twiggy tight, resting his head on the smaller mans' shoulder.
"I know you love me and everything, but what is this for?" Twiggy asked gently.
He ignored this question "You'll stay even if I go terribly mad won't you?"
Twiggy didn't need to worry about answering "Whatever happens," He ensured, his hands ruffling threw Marilyn's dyed red hair.
The rest of that day was spent what was considered normally. At night Marilyn tried his best to stay still. It didn't feel right, the fact that Twiggy wasn't cuddled close.  And he had only just realised he had actually been getting up and going to sleep at average times, since he was usually awake at night. But he only waited until 1am until he felt deeply tired.
____
A voice squeaked and groaned like a madman
"And all the dead children rise from the dirt. He-he, it's nauseating, narcotic with necrophilia and...Narcolep-tic!" the voice trailed around Marilyn.
'I must take control' he thought, realising at that moment, he could control it.
At least he thought he could.
"If you asked me to stay, why are you trying to get rid of me?" the voice whimpered.
"I thought you loved me?" the voice got nearer "I thought you cared," the voice purred.  
Marilyn felt a cold hand on his shoulder, he recognised that touch.
The voice started to say something else, against him.
"This world you live in is an illusion, it's not as it seems. It's all lies. What you think is real is the dreams and this, right now, is real. See it. Or are you afraid to see?" Marilyn couldn't take it. He felt trapped in this dream. But he had to fight.  He fell to his knees. He held onto his head. 'This isn't real, this isn't me,' he repeated over and over. The room span around him, faster and faster like a spinning-top and toppled over, turning slower and stopped. Marilyn opened his eyes and looked up, afraid of what he would face next. As the rooms before, this room was completely white. And in front of him was little Jeordie White. The small innocent child that he grew up to still be that. His shoulder length curled hair portrayed him to look like a girl which he always would still sometimes looks like. This made Marilyn smile. The child was holding a rose. The rose, once again, being white. Marilyn knelt down before the child. They exchanged smiles as little Jeordie handed him the rose. At this moment Marilyn didn't know whether he was controlling the dream or not. But as he held the rose it dried out, turning black. Before it had a clean stem but thorns quickly grew and pierced deep into Marilyn's thumbs.
"Fuck!" He cried as the pain reached his nerves. Jeordie got scared, starting to whimper and cry.
"No, I'm sorry," Marilyn soothed. He picked up the light child in his arms, holding him safe.  The blood from his thumb dropped to the floor which started to turn red. Marilyn stepped away from the red and ran into the never-ending fog of whiteness which he hadn't realised before. But the red didn't stop either.
Jeordie buried his face into Marilyn's chest.  Children know what it created for fear so Marilyn knew the red wasn't safe. But he couldn't escape it. In the end he gave up, letting the red reach them.
But he could control this dream couldn't he? But what would it take to stop Marilyn's dreams becoming bad? The blood turned back to white. Marilyn set Jeordie on the floor where he sat calmly. When turning back to check on Jeordie, Marilyn noticed he wasn't there. And when he turned back he immediately saw Twiggy...staring at him blankly...less than a centimetre away from each other's faces.  Marilyn stepped back but Twiggy held onto him and soon they were on the floor, Marilyn in Twiggy's arms.
"Wake up, please, Marilyn. Wake up for heaven's sake!"Twiggy was crying (for once not blood). Marilyn's eyes rolled back.
____
"Marilyn you fucking wake up!" Twiggy was shaking Marilyn now, rocking him back and forth like his child. He was holding him in the bed that he had fallen asleep in.
Marilyn shook his head.  'I'm back' he thought.  He smiled up at Twiggy though a tear of his dropped onto Marilyn's cheek.
"Oh God, I was so scared.  Don't fucking do that again, baby,"
Marilyn continued to smile, lost for words.

Marilyn laid on Twiggy in bed that night. He had said nothing but Twiggy knew he was alright. Twiggy fiddled with Marilyn's soft hair, unknown of any of the dreams.
The next morning Marilyn would plan to tell him the whole story. None of it made sense but for some reason Marilyn was so much more grateful for having Twiggy. There was no way of explaining it but as long as Twiggy was there Marilyn couldn't care less if he fully understood him or not. Those smiles...
One smile would say "I understand," And Marilyn would be able to fall asleep satisfied.