Sometimes he woke in the coldest part of the night, panting, clutching his chest or his head. Times like that, he knew he wasn't going to get back to sleep. Trying would only make it worse. So instead he'd sit quietly in the dark, watching the numerous LEDs in his room twinkling like half-hearted stars, and wait for his heart to lazily make its way down his throat to its rightful position.

One would think that with these night terrors plaguing him three, sometimes four times a week, he'd be used to it. But he never adjusted. Not ever. And when the middle of the night screamed names that filled him with guilt and fear, he didn't have a choice but to come running.

February 22nd was one of those nights, and at 2:02 am Sollux found himself grasping at the sheets, gulping down cold, dry air. As soon as he was calmer, when he had realized that he was in his own bed, he leaned back against the headboard and recited the names of the dead.

He stayed like that for a long time before blindly groping for his phone on the bedside table. 2:20 am. 3 new emails, 7 chat notifications. He tapped his Pesterchum application, blinking at the bright opening animation, and slid his glasses up his long nose. The usual.

CarcinoGeneticist [CG] began pestering TwinArmageddons [TA] at [12:21:12 AM]

CG: HEY.

CG: WILL YOU PLEASE READ THAT BOOK KANAYA GAVE YOU?

CG: SHE WON'T STOP TALKING ABOUT IT. APPARENTLY WHOEVER WROTE IT IS HAVING SOME BOOK SIGNING OR SOME SHIT. SHE WANTS SOMEONE TO GO WITH, AND SHE KNOWS YOU'RE THE ONLY ONE WHO'S INTERESTED IN THAT KIND OF CRAP.

CG: IN FACT, SCRATCH THAT. YOU DON'T EVEN HAVE TO READ IT. READ THE FUCKING WIKIPEDIA ARTICLE FOR ALL I CARE. JUST DISPLAY SOME KIND OF UNDERSTANDING OF WHATEVER SLOP DRIPS FROM THOSE PAGES SO THAT YOU CAN GET HER OFF MY BACK.

CG: HOW ARE YOU ALREADY ASLEEP?

CG: SHOULDN'T YOU BE PLAYING WORLD OF WARCRAFT OR MINESWEEPER OR SOMETHING AT THIS POINT?

CG: OKAY, WHATEVER. WHEN YOU GET THIS, PLEASE JUST TELL ME YOU'RE GOING TO READ IT. SHE'S STARTED ASKING EVERY FUCKING TIME I GET ONLINE.

CarcinoGeneticist [CG] ceased pestering TwinArmageddons [TA] at [01:07:22]

Sollux sighed and set his phone down, clicking on his bedside lamp so he could give the book sitting beside it a scornful glance. Beyond: Connecting With the Further Ring and Other Supernatural Realms. Rose Lalonde. He picked the book up in one spindly hand and turned it over, his eyes roving over the solemn, black-and-white author's picture.

"Pff. What a crackpot," he murmured under his breath. He'd skimmed the first chapter when Karkat had couriered the tome to him, seeing as the subject matter did seem interesting, but he'd abandoned the book in disgust as soon as he realized the methods Lalonde supported. Séances, Ouija boards – even crystal balls, for god's sake. It was a load of drivel.

He opened to a random page, chewing idly on his lip.

The important thing to note, the passage began, is that there are certain entities that may not want to be contacted – and if that is the case, you should refrain from doing so, even if you possess the ability. This is especially important to note this in cases in which you, the summoner or communicant, are emotionally invested in the entity. The void changes things. The entity you are attempting to contact may not be the person it was before it died. In cases like this, it can be incredibly difficult to resist making unwise contact – but it is a difficulty that must be overcome.

He exhaled slowly and put the book back. Such bullshit. It was obvious that the author was some sort of new-age hippie madwoman, pulling sparkly nonsense directly out of her ass. He was a scientist.

The young man rolled back over in bed, yanking the covers all the way up to the neatly trimmed patch of orange on his narrow chin. The dead didn't change – he was sure of that. That was the whole point. That was why he did what he did.

If what he was looking for was always changing, what would be the point of searching?