When Divi woke up later that evening, Tris once again attempted to get the boy to recite what he had seen in his dreams, but he refused.

Upon being asked for a reason, Divi shrugged and claimed he didn't dream at all this time, a rather odd statement in Tris' opinion.

He reminded himself to jot it down later in his well-kept journal, along with a note to check for the effects of absence of dreams, should this not be a one-time thing.

“Is Vince still angry?” Divi asked, somewhat hesitant, as he sat up in his bed. He didn't look up at Tris sitting next to the bed, fiddling with the worn edges of the blanket resting on his legs.

“He's always angry.” Tris put it in the most simple and truthful way. He hoped that fact will at least assure the kid that it's not him that causes their third partner's seemingly constant state of rage, to some degree. “He'll calm down eventually. Don't worry.”

The kid still bore a worried expression, and Tris offered to make him a hot beverage, knowing it never fails to calm him down, especially as temperatures seemed to have been dropping outside lately. Divi took the offer and the two walked out of the room, and Tris noticed the kid remained close to him, constantly looking around like a frightened rabbit.

“He went out again.” Tris mentioned, assuming Divi fears another confrontation.

His theory proved right, as Divi immediately calmed down.

Frankly, Tris was surprised at the intense influence Vince's outburst had on the kid's mental state – a surprise most likely stemming from him knowing the fire-breather for long enough to not be affected by his fiery temper.

But for Divi, who hardly even made any sort of contact with him since arriving at the house, these sudden outbursts were, understandably, intimidating.

By Divi's request, Tris brewed some hot tea, and sat next to him as he silently sipped it.

At first he was looking to make sure the kid indeed calmed down, and slowly found himself stating, in utter bewilderment, at the this small human child, exhibiting such a wide spectrum of expressions and emotions that, in a somewhat ironic fashion, made it harder for Tris to understand what he was going through, while the kid appeared to have managed to read him clearly even with his featureless facade.

Tris wondered if it might be simpler to figure out fewer gestures rather than a mixture of multiple expressions and nuances, or was it maybe that he was seeing something else. Something that eluded Tris with the separation he experienced from other humans for as long as he could remember.

The only expressions he could vividly recall were those of laughter and mockery; Vince's voice blasted through his mind when he thought about 'anger'; blurred features floated to his consciousness paired with 'sadness' and 'worry'.

He wasn't too sure if those features belonged to a familiar face or just a figment of his own imagination; He could, tell for sure, however, that Divi's expressions were so much more diverse than that, and to most of them he couldn't pin an emotion.

Besides 'fear'.

The subject of human expressions was the most fascinating thing to him of all, and he wondered of the subject related to the interests of the anonymous owner of the journal.

“Wh-what?” a trembling voice snapped Tris out of his thoughts.

Divi has rested his head on the table, behind his crossed arms, and looked at him over the brim of the tea cup, almost like he's cowering behind it.

“Don't you like it.” Tris gestured towards the cup.

“I'm done.”

Tris made a low hum, wondering how long he was deep in thought.

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

“How.”

“I...I don't know...Like that.” Divi was just as confused. He had gotten so used to the way Tris looks that he sometimes forgot he has no eyes. Sometimes he'd just imagine it's there.

“Did I scare you.” Tris felt like they were back when they first met.

“A...a little...” The kid's voice cracked, like he was about to cry.

“More the the nightmares.”

“What? N-no!” Divi was taken aback by Tris' response. “Not like that- It's not the same!”

Tris tilted his head to the side, humming inquisitively, waiting for the kid to explain the difference.

But he just sighed and slumped in his chair. “Never mind...”

“Why don't you try reading again?” Tris offered, after directing his thoughts back to alleviating the kid's mood. “I've asked Vince to get you some new books.”

A hint of relief was seen in Divi's expression, welcoming the change of subject. Now that he thought of it, he completely ceased reading since the nightmares started, as fatigue made it hard for him to remember whatever he did read before falling asleep.

“I'll try.” he nodded, making a promise both to Tris and to himself alike.

Maybe he just needed a distraction.

“The change was almost instantaneous. Once Divi started reading again, his mind seemed to have been distracted back to the fictional worlds treasured among the pages of the books, instead of delving into nightmares.”

“Sleeping patterns seem to be regulating back to normal.”

Tris marked this progress as a positive change and return to a norm.

It was a late at night, and he allowed himself to spend the time at the dust-blanketed living room now that Divi felt safe in his room even without Tris guarding him in his sleep.

Letting his body sink into the couch, he closed the journal and leaned his head back.

Vince was out juggling street performances, increasing in numbers every couple of nights; the street outside was so quite that it may as well be empty, vacant of any and all residents.

This moment of silence allowed Tris to ponder in peace.

Unlike Divi, he never ceased thinking about those dreams and nightmares. It was the mere fact that he never experienced such things that made them so fascinating to him, even to the point of a hint of jealousy, and some sense of missing out; of some emptiness.

He couldn't recall the last time he tried to sleep – or if he even tried.

Was it another reason he was displayed to the crowd?

'The Faceless, Sleepless Man'?

The more time that has passed, the harder he found it to focus on memories of the past. As a matter of fact, everything that happened before he found Divi was a blur.

All but their escape from the...how did Vince kept calling it? Freak-show?

Even this became hazier as time went on.

Could it have been that his routine life as of now are the same to him as books are to Divi? A distraction from something traumatic, until it fades away?

Tris' head was full of question, and he couldn't fathom where he'd even begin looking for answers.

Having nothing else to do, he remained to stare at thin air until the little hours of the morning, hardly aware of the shifting light, until the sound of the door opening snapped him back.

Vince stumbled in, barely going past the door. Looks like the last couple of shows weren't a stellar success, if his scorched, ashen clothes were anything to go by.

Throwing a quick glance to the living room and closing the door behind him, he shuffled into the kitchen sink to wash the sooth off his face and down two cups of water before making himself some food, forcing himself to gather the strength for that before complete exhaustion will send him crashing down.

“Can I help you with that.” the slightly muffled voice made Vince jump, almost causing him to knock the dishes off the counter.

Taking a deep breath, he lowered his head between his shoulders, hiding like a tortoise in the collar of his jacket. “I thought you were sleeping, for once...” he huffed, waiting for his heartbeat to settle.

“That would have been nice.” Tris directed his head at him, to not cause further alarm. “I seem to be having a hard time doing that. It looks so simple, when you and Divi are sleeping.”

“Probably because there no 'doing' involved in it.” Vince murmured and took the rest of his food to the table, slumping down in one of the chairs. “Can't possibly think why you're not making more use of this insomniac gift of yours, but, whatever...”

“I was under the impression that sleeping is a healthy habit.” It was indeed mirrored by how the lack of sufficient sleep has deteriorated both Vince and and Divi's health and mood.

Vince rolled his eyes and bit into his food. “Well, yeah,” he growled a mouthful. “That applies to whoever requires sleep to – I don't know – live, not to a freak like you.” he downed the food with whatever water left in his cup.

The fumes and intense heat weren't too kind on his throat, which still felt irritated. Talking about such nonsense clearly wasn't contributing to his state, just to his level of irritation. The fact that all this talk was centered around sleep made him even more tired.

“Are you saying I don't need to sleep.” Tris got up from the couch, and much to Vince's dismay, sat in front of him.

The exhausted fire-breather stopped counting whatever was wrong with the faceless man a long time ago. “Looks like it.”

“So this means I can't sleep.”

“I didn't say that.”

“Do you think I can?”

“I don't know!” Vince flared up at the continuous blabbering. “Try!:

“How.”

Vince ran his hand over his face, inhaling the lingering scent of lighter fluid that at this intensity would make most people feel dizzy or pass out. He was too tired to come of with sleeping solutions to some humanoid, faceless freak that wasn't ever aware of what sleep can do, or that one of the ways he is different is that he can't sleep.

He could feel Tris' intense, unnerving, eyeless stare focused on him, waiting for an answer.

His hand remained on his face as exhaled a defeated sigh through his nose, looking around the place for a creative solution, as well as pretty much any other point of interest besides Tris' face.

“Let's start with the fact that trying to sleep on this antique won't do you any good.” Vince gestured towards the couch Tris was sitting on just a moment ago. “There's another unused bedroom here, isn't it? Try the bed there.” He offered and resumed eating. “It's not like the layers of dust ever bothered you.”

“What am I supposed to do then.”

Vince coughed, almost choking on his food. In his wildest imagination, he wouldn't think he'll have to explain a grown man – or whatever Tris was – the sequence of sleep. He didn't even know where to start explaining it to someone who doesn't need it and hasn't experienced its effects, of its lack.

“Just...Lay there, however you feel comfortable, and...um...” Vince ate the last bites of his food and got up to put his dishes in the sink, still feeling Tris staring at his back. “I dunno, 'turn off your sense', or something.” he tried to amass the best description to this abstract feeling that engulfs him from seconds after he throws himself on his bed until his mind gives in to sleep.

“And this will work.”

“Works for me.” Vince shrugged, eagerly turning to walk out of the kitchen. “What got you so hyped up on sleeping, anyway?”

Vince didn't really care for an answer. He didn't think there can be any motive for this other than some vague sense of curiosity, maybe as Tris finally realized how much of an oddball he is.

He thought that whatever it was, it has no concern for him, or can wait until morning.

“I want to see the nightmares.”

But he didn't expect that answer.

Vince spun on his heels, staring at the statuesque being that was now sitting with his back turned to him.

He knew it was because of the kid. Had to be.

That little pest with his dreams and nightmares, that popped out of nowhere, and made Tris an even less tolerable question-asking headache than before.

“You'll regret it.” Vince's voice turned grim, causing Tris to turn around this time and find himself staring at the man's back as he dragged himself away towards his room. “You have no idea what kind of luxury you'd be throwing away.” he added before slamming the door shut behind him.

Vince's words left a lot of questions in Tris' mind, some that he wondered how they haven't occurred to him until now.

They were so perplexing, in fact, that he knew he won't be able to try and sleep that same night.

Did that mean Vince had nightmares too?

Could they be the same as Divi's?

Is it possible that he sees them too when he's awake, like Divi claims that he does?

And if he had them too, why would he be so mad with the kid for being afraid?

So many questions that he couldn't even express out loud buzzed around Tris' mind like a nest of angry wasps. He couldn't put his mind to ease, even more with knowing that Vince wouldn't share what he's dreaming about. He already made it clear that he thinks recording Divi's dreams is a waste of time, surely he wouldn't bother talking about his own.

Once morning came around, Tris went to check up on Divi, routinely asking about his dreams, but nothing special came up this time.

It appeared that the kid's sleeping pattern is settling back to normal, and Tris preferred to avoid holding back his recovery by bringing up the nightmare issue again, so he didn't delve further into the matter. Needless to mention, he said nothing about the conversation that took place that night.

The rest of the day went on with no incidents – Divi ate a little and read a lot, avoiding Vince and slipping under his radar during the brief moments he was walking around the place before going to work or to bed – all under Tris' supervision and documentation.

It went on for two more days until Tris felt things were calm and stable enough for himself to follow on Vince's reluctantly-given advice and try his hand at sleeping.

He waited patiently until Divi was fast asleep, and went to the vacant bedroom right next to it. Vince was absolutely correct about the state of the room – that hasn't been in use for as long as they've been occupying this residence – as well as about it not bothering him.

Tris took off his red coat and hat, left only in his pants, and sat in the middle of the bed, turning and leaning back until his head touched the pillow. Laying there like a stiff board, the mattress did already felt significantly comfier that the couch in the living room area.

Now that comfort's been taken care of and he let his body relax into the soft material, feeling almost like his floating, he wondered how he should go on.

What senses should he “turn off”? All of them?

Tris took a deep breath and tries not to listen to the environment, or rather, disregard any sound he was hearing.

His surrounding faded away with the sound, and could barely feel the mattress underneath him anymore.

The quieter it got, the less he could make out of the room – first it was just in less details, then in silhouettes, to a mess of dark, abstract shapes.

He felt a strange sensation of disconnection, depravity; slowly, despite light, floating feeling, he noticed that any will he conjured to move his body came back unanswered.

Is this what sleep feels like?