[He can't say that he feels the same way about the morning, but it would be impolite to say otherwise. He nods and returns the greeting softly as he scoots to sit up.]
[He trails off. He can feel heat rising to his cheeks--because it just felt so personal.]
He was trying some coffee you made--it was like it was me, but I could hear your voice--and he said he liked it but you tried it yourself and you felt disappointed, because it wasn't good enough. He said he'd help you when you chose to practice more. And you were so happy...it was nice.
[The silence that falls between them is...not necessarily comfortable. He wants to say more, feels somewhat as if she should say more, but the words curl up nervously in his throat.]
Sorry if it was uncomfortable to bring up so casually.
[He scowls, wondering if it's wise to share what he dreamed. While confusion and numbness reigned in the dream, he finds himself unsettled in the safety of his own body.]
I saw . . . your birth, and others who looked like you in cells.
More silence. This time, because Ion feels like the inside of his body has suddenly turned into a pressurized kettle. Cold...how can he feel so hot but so cold? He pulls the blankets farther up toward his shoulders.]
I'm sorry. Did you...no, I'm sorry.
[He doesn't know what he's saying. Why is he apologizing? Why does the whole world feel so dark so suddenly?]
[He was alarmed, to be sure, but that has since morphed into a feeling of faint unease. There isn't anything he can do for Ion, so he gives him a moment instead.]
But it's over. The dream ended and I'm here now. So are you.
[He closes his eyes, but it's a bad idea, because he sees his Original glowering down at him with cold, uninterested eyes and wants to vomit. He opens his eyes again. He laughs weakly.]
None of that matters anymore. It was two years ago--it's all in the past now.
[As his words sink in, Ion feels the shaking start to ease. Ground. He's found ground--he never left the ground. Slowly, his smile comes back. He looks tired, as if they hadn't just woken up, but he pulls his gaze back upward.]
Right now, I'd just like it if you stayed close. Is that okay?
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Good morning. Did you sleep well?
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[Ion begins to sit up as well, keeping the blanket around him as he does.]
I had...a dream, I think it was about you. Actually, it felt more like a memory than a dream.
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A memory . . . ? [The next question comes out hastily.] What did you see?
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O...oh, um, I was in a garden, drinking coffee with someone named Lucifer.
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Is that . . . all?
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[He trails off. He can feel heat rising to his cheeks--because it just felt so personal.]
He was trying some coffee you made--it was like it was me, but I could hear your voice--and he said he liked it but you tried it yourself and you felt disappointed, because it wasn't good enough. He said he'd help you when you chose to practice more. And you were so happy...it was nice.
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[His face crinkles at the memory. He'd practically forgotten about that (because he'd wanted to).]
That was a long time ago.
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[The silence that falls between them is...not necessarily comfortable. He wants to say more, feels somewhat as if she should say more, but the words curl up nervously in his throat.]
Sorry if it was uncomfortable to bring up so casually.
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No. You didn't do anything wrong. But . . . that was definitely my memory. How were you able to see it?
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I don't know. I just fell asleep...and suddenly I was in it.
[Which means...he can't help but ask.]
You didn't see anything you think might have belonged to me...did you?
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I saw . . . your birth, and others who looked like you in cells.
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[Oh.
...
More silence. This time, because Ion feels like the inside of his body has suddenly turned into a pressurized kettle. Cold...how can he feel so hot but so cold? He pulls the blankets farther up toward his shoulders.]
I'm sorry. Did you...no, I'm sorry.
[He doesn't know what he's saying. Why is he apologizing? Why does the whole world feel so dark so suddenly?]
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Why are you apologizing? I was the one who looked into your memory without your consent.
[And it wasn't a frivolous memory like his. What he saw was . . . private.]
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I just hadn't...thought of the six of them in...in awhile. Not like that. I hadn't forgotten but I'd...
[Well, he doesn't think about it.]
It must have alarmed you.
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[He was alarmed, to be sure, but that has since morphed into a feeling of faint unease. There isn't anything he can do for Ion, so he gives him a moment instead.]
But it's over. The dream ended and I'm here now. So are you.
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[He closes his eyes, but it's a bad idea, because he sees his Original glowering down at him with cold, uninterested eyes and wants to vomit. He opens his eyes again. He laughs weakly.]
None of that matters anymore. It was two years ago--it's all in the past now.
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Two years . . . ]
You don't look so good. Do you need to lie down?
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No, I'll be okay. I'm calming down. I'm sorry for causing trouble.
[The more you apologize, the less they expect from you. It's better to be left alone in that company, even when you feel so frightened to be alone.]
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[Sandalphon doesn't recall there being trouble this morning, as reckless as Ion can be.]
It's been a while, so I'll say it again: tell me if you need anything.
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Right now, I'd just like it if you stayed close. Is that okay?
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I'll stay as long as you need. Take this time to rest.