That was one insight into reality he could not pretend to have.
Logical theories regarding Johnny's behavior never seemed to be correct...because Johnny was not logical. This was frustrating for Edgar, but he was beginning to get used to it. To expect the unexpected, as it were.
There's only so much you can expect however. So much you can assume, can guess about someone's motivations.
Edgar could not understand Johnny and he was fairly sure he did not want to. Johnny was demented in ways that Edgar did not want repeated. Stare too long and the abyss stares back at you.
That was the last thing Edgar wanted. Even if it gave him more insight to try and pretend to be insane...it was not worth it.
However, his recent thoughts had led him to one inevitable conclusion. Somehow, over the course of time, he had invested emotion into their relationship. An emotion other than fear.
He hesitated to classify it as affection because it did not seem like any kind of affection he knew of, but whatever this feeling was, it made him empathize with Johnny's position. Want to help him in small ways. Preserve those moments where Johnny seemed happy. Stopped suffering for just a short time.
Edgar rebelled against this feeling violently, recognizing it quickly as stupid and self-defeating. He doubted that Johnny cared very much about him at all, considering his capricious and moody nature, and he certainly was not interested in making Edgar happy.
And yet, somehow the connection of "friend" had been made, at least in Edgar's mind. In the flickering darkness of the movie theater, he had seen something that changed him. Changed his perspective.
Changed his reality.
So Edgar was unable to refuse when Johnny asked him to come over. He sounded eager about something, although he did not clarify exactly what it was. Not the most comforting unclarified mood for Johnny to be in, but then again...eager Johnny was better than suicidal Johnny and definitely far better than homicidal Johnny.
Edgar was already feeling somewhat afraid as he walked up to the door, fearing another surprise attack. Johnny had proven again and again that he could consistently ambush and incapacitate Edgar without any kind of trouble or warning.
He didn't trust him yet, and probably wouldn't for a long time.
The door yielded to him when he turned the knob and Edgar stepped inside. This time the surroundings seemed to have changed just subtly. The rabbit on the wall now was missing its head. The hideous Styrofoam things had been moved. A book was open on the floor and a pencil nearby.
But other than that, the house seemed to retain the same quality it always had. Broken, desolate, deserted, unkept, decaying, and old. In a way, it seemed the perfect environment for Johnny, and Johnny only. Edgar felt so out of place here.
Johnny was sitting on the couch and staring at the door intensely as if he had been willing Edgar to walk through it. Edgar could not guess as to how long the maniac had sat there with that fixed, expectant expression.
Johnny looked more tired than the last time he had seen him. The dark rings under his eyes had expanded and darkened in color and the twitchiness present with an exhausted person, particularly the kind trying to hide such exhaustion, was painfully obvious.
"Nny?"
It was almost as if he was not there until he said something. The raspy, sharp voice broke the air.
"Ah, there you are."
Johnny smiled in what Edgar guess was supposed to be a disarming way.
Silence.
Unsure of what to do, Edgar turned and hung his coat on one of the nails protruding from the boards over the window.
He did remember bringing his coat this time.
"I need to ask you something."
"Alright." Edgar logically guessed that this was something too important to discuss over the phone. He had no idea what it could be. He tucked his hands into his pockets.
"I'm having difficulty with my reality."
No surprise there.
"You may recall me mentioning how reality is somewhat relative. I'm beginning to question that in terms of it being relative to me. Something like...an anchor." Johnny ran a hand through his hair. "I'll get into that later. But lately it's become somewhat difficult for me to tell reality from fantasy. To remember what's real and what is not real. Things are kind of breaking down."
He probably hasn't slept in a week. That would explain it.
Shut up, this is important.
"Breaking down?" Edgar felt as if he had to say something in response. Fortunately Johnny took this as an invitation to continue.
"The point's that I've been wondering about something for the last few days. You may have noticed..." Johnny looked at him for a moment, his expression changing along with his train of thought. "You're unique, you know that. I let you live. So I'm assuming you went to the police?"
Edgar nodded. No use in lying there, they were of no help anyway.
"And they didn't help you."
Edgar shook his head. "It was as if you didn't exist."
"Exactly!" Johnny's voice changed tone so quickly that Edgar could not help but jump. He was surprisingly exultant. "I can get away with anything. Almost nothing on earth can catch me, can touch me. To some extent, I am invulnerable."
Johnny lowered his arms, his expression and tone changing again. He stared intently at his hands, his voice soft and thoughtful.
"To some extent. That's why I asked you here. I want some clarification. I need you to do something for me."
"Well..." Edgar struggled to process this new information fast enough. "I'd be willing to help you, but I'm not sure exactly what you mean. What do you want me to do?"
"It's just a minor experiment. Nothing I hope will be too difficult for you."
I doubt he meant that to be condescending.
"I decided to ask you to do this because when you talk, it doesn't make me want to gouge out your eyes with forks." Johnny paused, looking clinically and distantly at something past Edgar entirely. Edgar was trying desperately to get that mental image out of his head and keep his facial expression neutral at the same time. "I may hazard to say I have grown almost fond of you. A friend, or at least as close as anyone could get."
Edgar did not expect that.
"There was one before you that I did care deeply about. She and you are the main forces behind this theory of mine. You know how the police did nothing? How I can do almost anything and not get caught?"
Edgar nodded, not sure of how else to respond.
"I am invincible to petty, weak people. Those out there who have nothing better to do than wallow in humankind's collective shallow filth. The authorities are powerless. They can't find me, control me, or do anything to stop me. However."
Johnny paused again, although he seemed to be struggling to keep his clinically calm demeanor. "There seem to be...exceptions. I've suffered minor scratches at the hands of others, but no one can truly hurt me. But when I showed enough...when I seemed to care about people, they gain the ability to...change my reality, so to speak. To give them power to touch me."
What happened to her? She escaped, didn't she?
Yes.
So what happened to you?
Goodbye, Edgar.
"That woman..." Edgar almost snapped his fingers at the simple mental connection but restrained himself. "That woman you mentioned before..."
Johnny was silent for some period of time before he finally turned away, hands holding tightly onto his upper arms. Edgar was unable to see his face but the sadness in his words made it very clear.
"Devi hurt me."
There was a silence after this that Edgar felt exceedingly uncomfortable in. He had no idea how to respond, what to say to soothe something like that. He was notoriously bad at this. But he couldn't just stand here and say nothing...there had to be something...
Before he could speak, Johnny turned, breaking the silence. He had the same obsessively psychotic look he had before when he had tried to explain his motivation for killing Edgar. Whatever sadness that was present before seemed to be gone now.
"But you see, this is my point! No one else could ever touch me, but when I care, when I reach out to others, they, by association, can reach out to me. They can hurt me. They can affect my reality while other people flicker and vanish like phantoms. If I care, they can cause me pain."
Johnny turned and picked a small black thing off the floor smoothly, still talking as he did so. While he spoke, he moved forward, extending his hand and offering the black thing to Edgar. Unsure of what else to do, Edgar took it.
"I mentioned before that I could not die. That I was an anchor. To think that all this, this entire reality, could depend on me. That could be why I don't die, why I can't be stopped. If I was a focal point for the entire universe, there would be no way that I could be killed. But Devi was able to inflict damage on me, and that puts an element of doubt into my theory. I want a definitive answer. I want a definite conclusion to this question."
Johnny stepped back, the tazer in Edgar's hand. He moved his arms behind his back, staring at him with a totally deadpan expression.
"So Edgar, I want you to kill me."
Edgar stood there for a few moments before finally a word came to mind.
"...What?"
Johnny leaned back, resting against the side of his couch as his demeanor again changed, this time to the same carefree kind of tone he had used in describing the death of the store clerk. "Haven't you ever used a tazer? It's simple, just point it at my head-"
"Nny, that's not the point!" Edgar was having a great deal of difficulty in keeping his voice under control. He had not prepared for this. He had no idea what to do, but he had to make sure he stayed calm. Johnny was in a precarious state...he had to be careful. "Do you know what you're asking me?"
Almost like a small child, Johnny inclined his head at him and responded with a kind of cheerful innocence. "I'm asking you to help me."
Edgar sighed.
It would seem like that to him.
"I think we have different definitions of help here." Edgar looked down at the black thing in his hands as he tried to phrase himself correctly. "I can't...this isn't..."
Johnny just stared at him.
Edgar took a deep breath as he collected himself, carefully constructing his sentences before they found voice. "I would have to disagree with you on this point, Nny. The logic here is somewhat flawed. If you are an anchor for reality, as you said, then you would not be able to die, or else by association the universe would collapse as well."
There you go. Open with an agreement to his previous statement, then...
"Your...'invisibility' lends credibility to that but..." Edgar again took another breath, hoping to keep his voice steady and even. Johnny just continued to stare at him. "The argument for Devi does not make sense."
That felt weird.
What?
Saying her name.
It's not important right now.
"Even if you only could be hurt by people you care about, being injured is vastly different from being killed. I could be deathly wounded but still survive. If I were an anchor, as you claim to be, then I could be beaten to an inch of my life, but the universe would remain intact because I would be alive. The fact Devi hurt you would not prove or disprove your 'status' as an anchor. Also, I'm not sure why only people you cared about would be able to breach this barrier of realities...you'd think it would be the other way around. That someone you cared about would help you build a wall, to protect you from harm."
Johnny was sinking slowly, leaning heavily onto his arms as he sat on the armrest. His eyes narrowed at Edgar dangerously.
Not good. This is not good. Say something, quick. Say something nice or something, try to calm him down.
"This is all just skirting the primary issue, though." Edgar, at the sight of Johnny just staring at him so intensely, was feeling somewhat frightened and nervous. "It doesn't really matter if you are correct or not, I wouldn't try to kill you anyway. It's-"
It's not my nature It's not right It's not legal It's not
"I mean...you mentioned before that you had become somewhat...'fond' of me. That you kind of consider me your friend." That still seemed entirely unbelievable. "Now I feel that you are to some extent my friend as well, and as such I don't want to hurt you. I...I would not be able to kill you, even if you gave me a logically sound reason."
That's not true.
Shut up.
Johnny just glared at him. When he finally spoke, his voice was soft and unemotional. "So you're not going to help me."
Edgar turned away, hoping that he was doing the right thing and saving his own life at the same time.
Would you be willing to compromise one for the other?
This is not the time.
"Not in this way, no."
There was a pause as Edgar stared at the small electric device in his hands.
You said yourself he's in constant pain. This world doesn't seem to want him here. It rejects him. Violently. He rejects it back. He's suffering, collapsing, and he said himself he doesn't know what's real. He wants you to make it stop.
No. I can't do that.
I thought you wanted to help him feel good.
I am NOT going to kill him.
You contradict yourself an awful lot.
It's not intentional and I am not going to-
He heard the slightest sound of motion behind him. This was followed by an angry, vicious scream.
"YOU BASTARD!"
Edgar whirled in time to see Johnny leap from his perch on the armrest, his knife almost seeming to have appeared in his hand.
A few seconds later and the back of Edgar's head hit the floor violently, his glasses jarred from his face due to the impact. A moment of dizziness, a loss of vision, then he was able to make out a vague form crouched above him, holding the knife at an obviously threatening angle.
The same psychotic, almost panicked voice.
"KILL ME!"
"NO!"
With the first word that came to mind, Edgar unintentionally almost matched Johnny's tone.
Johnny raised the blade high, preparing for the final blow, when something seemed to stop him. He was silent for only a moment before he raised his eyes and voice to the ceiling with a familiar tone of injured dignity.
"I swear to god, this happens every time! Every time I try to do one thing, every time I try to make myself happy, to end this painful and stupid existence, something ruins everything! Something wants to see me here, to see me writhe in pain at the hands of those vicious creatures out there that call themselves human!"
Without thinking, Edgar's free hand began to grope around on the floor for the dropped tazer, his blurry and unfocused eyes staring at Johnny in confusion. Apparently, Johnny had become so interested in his own self-righteous speech that he had forgotten about Edgar. The hand once intended to deliver a killing blow now gestured dramatically.
"I want this to stop, I want to know for certain, I want this uncertainty to stop! I want to know things and the only person who can tell me won't help me! He refuses! Why? If you truly were my friend, Edgar, then you would have helped me! If you truly cared at all, you would try to make my reality permanent! To stop this shifting and endless confusion! To make everything stop! God!"
Interesting that he calls on him too.
Edgar was too concerned in finding the tazer to think of a response. His fingers brushed against some shards of glass, the hardened places in the carpet where liquid had forced the threads to bind together, vague moist areas as if someone had spilled something, crumbs that seemed to be everywhere and gritted against his skin. Finally, he felt cool plastic and he closed his fingers quickly around the device.
Johnny continued gesturing and speaking, although it seemed as if he was not speaking to Edgar at all.
"Do you know what it's like? Do you? To wake up and wonder if everything is a dream? To wake up and not know if you woke up at all? To continually fight against a brutal and unrelenting stream of human shit and make no progress? I'm spinning in circles and there's nothing I can do! I don't even know if it's a circle anymore! Fuck, it could be an octagon for all I know! This is my point! You don't know what this is like! You sit there in your tower and tell me that you're my friend, and yet when I give you my salvation you throw it back in my face! Can you think of anyone but yourself, or are you just as selfish as those out there, only you've hidden it better? I asked for one thing, just ONE thing! I wanted to die and I wanted your help and you wouldn't give it to me! How could you do this to me?"
I had no idea he was this messed up.
Johnny seemed to regain his composure, remembering that he had the object of his current malice pinned beneath him. His eyes turned back down to his captive prey, angry and accusing. "Well, never mind. I'll kill you, then myself. I don't need you after all."
Sometimes it is difficult to understand someone else's motivations, the mental processes that govern their behavior.
Sometimes, it is as clear as one word.
Survive.
As Johnny raised the knife again, now staring down at his prey with the same clinically detached look that Edgar was so familiar with, Edgar acted. Without any kind of true conscious thought, his hand flew upwards blindingly.
Unexpectedly.
Johnny had no time to react before the electricity flooded into him and then all he could do was convulse. His hand opened involuntarily, thin fingers jerking, moving independently of one another as the knife fell to the floor.
The current stopped after a few long seconds.
Johnny squeaked.
Then he fell.
Edgar took several deep breaths, the sheer adrenaline running through his body making it difficult to think clearly.
He looked over to one side, finding Johnny lying inert on the ground, eyes wide open. He had fallen to one side although his legs had not completely followed his motion. One rested across Edgar's own legs while the other was trapped beneath Johnny's own thin body. The maniac's hands lay uselessly at his sides, unmoving.
It is at this point, Edgar, that I would like to suggest you run.
Edgar stared at Johnny's body for a few moments, unable to fully comprehend what he had done. Only his heartbeat thudding into his ears and the soft sound of his breathing broke the silence.
Did I do that? How could I...did I? I...
Finally, he found actions and pushed Johnny's legs off of him then moving over to one side where he could examine him more clearly.
"Oh my god..."
He rolled him onto his back and Johnny remained stubbornly unresponsive. His wide glassy eyes stared ghoulishly at the ceiling, pupils frozen in position.
All kinds of emotions surged into Edgar but the predominant one was panic.
"Oh my god, Nny! Nny, are you okay? I didn't mean to...oh god..."
Congratulations Edgar, you killed him. Let's go to Disneyworld.
Edgar narrowed his eyes at his own mental disrespect.
You're not helping.
That's not what I do.
Edgar struggled to ignore his inner voice as he stared down at his body. With every passing second of silence Edgar felt more and more panicked. He had to do something, say something, quickly! He found himself holding his head, his hands desperate to be doing something at such a time of emotional stress.
"I didn't...what if I did kill him? Oh god, if I did kill him...I'm not invisible like he is, I'll be caught!" He paused and thought about his own words with some degree of distaste. "And why do I think that's important? I could have killed him! I did kill him! I didn't mean to...I didn't want to hurt him, but...oh god..."
Edgar buried his hands in his hair, unable to deal with such a sudden rush of emotion. He had always kept his emotions in strict order, but now he was completely out of control. He spiraled into his own morass of feelings that he never experienced and therefore could not identify. He could not find any kind of landmark, some kind of place where he could stop feeling for a moment and find a way back to rationality.
He did not know what to do.
His body was jerky and responded too quickly, too slowly. His heartbeat continued to beat louder, beating through his hands, the sound echoing in his mind.
He had never felt something this strongly before.
Then again, he had never killed someone before.
He breathed hard, struggling to keep himself under control and to not bolt from the house in fear. What could he do? There had to be something he could do, there had to be something-
Johnny coughed.
Edgar stopped dead and stared down at Johnny's now moving body with shock and some degree of horror.
"Oh my god, Nny, Nny are you okay? I-"
Johnny burst into maniacal laughter, startling Edgar into wide-eyed silence. "Ha ha ha ha! I no die! I knew it! Mwa ha ha ha!"
Edgar had been panicked before, paralyzed with all sorts of indescribable emotions, but now all he felt in response to Johnny's inexplicable resurrection was annoyance.
Johnny searched until he found the tazer, looking at it gleefully. "Hee hee, right to the brain! Hee hee! I can't die! I'm invincible! Nothing can touch me! Hee hee!"
That wasn't the reaction you expected, was it?
How can he be this way?
There's no good answer to that. Where are your glasses?
Edgar busied himself looking for his lost spectacles while Johnny continued to talk, although this time it was definitely not to Edgar.
"What? So what if I forgot to recharge it! It means the same thing! Something prevented me from doing that! Something doesn't want me to die either way so it doesn't matter if I forgot or not, D-boy!"
Who is he talking to?
Do you really have to ask?
Edgar finally found his glasses and put them back on, taking deep breaths. He felt furious with Johnny, angry at him for putting him through this kind of emotional turmoil, for making him lose control and sending him falling for that terrifying moment-
"Thanks for your help, Edgar." Johnny's voice was light and carefree again. "I feel better now."
I can't believe this.
Edgar brushed a hand through his hair as he struggled to control his emotions.
I can't believe he wanted me to kill him, he...alright, I have to calm down. Yelling at him would not be helpful in this situation. If he feels good, that's a good thing. I should try to preserve that. I'll just calmly explain that I did not appreciate-
Edgar! Living doormat!
Not now-
Edgar, this is just pathetic! Look at yourself! Listen to yourself! You're letting him walk all over you! This isn't healthy! He tried to get you to kill him and then tried to kill you! AGAIN! Why do you even care? Tell the little skinny bastard off! If you're angry, tell him so! It's not healthy and it's not natural to try and keep something inside like this! You deny more and more of normal humanity while you claim to be something you're not!
You talk as if we have a normal relationship. I can't yell at him because of one very fundamental reason. In fact, the reason this relationship exists at all. He can kill me. If I yelled at him now, I could only push him over the edge again and possibly get him to kill me and/or himself, successfully this time. Yelling at him would only make me feel better for a short period and then end either in my death or me feeling guilty later. I won't yell at him because it's a foolish thing to do. I'm going to be mature about this and deal with it in a mature manner.
Mature about this- mature about this- Edgar he tried to kill you AGAIN. How could you be mature about this? Is it mature to hide from your feelings like a little girl? Is that maturity? Is it mature to let him use you and constantly injure you just because you're afraid of him? That is why you won't do anything back, isn't it? You're just terrified of him and making all these emotional justifications-
"Sorry about all this."
Johnny's still light and carefree voice broke his thoughts. Edgar turned and stared at him.
What did he say?
"Sorry...?"
"Yeah." Johnny smiled at him in that same childish, happy way. "Want to watch TV?"
Edgar just stared at him blankly, unable to think of any response for almost a minute. Finally, he nodded his head.
"Alright."
Every time I think he can't surprise me, he manages to prove me wrong.
Edgar stood unsteadily, brushing himself off to hide his shaking limbs. Johnny sprang to his feet with same unearthly agility that accompanied almost all his moments and lept over the arm of the couch to land near the end. He clicked the TV on and leaned back, again almost as if Edgar was not there.
Edgar walked and sat at the other end of the couch warily, still watching Johnny distrustfully. As with the movie theater, Johnny had lost all interest in him and now was focused on the television screen.
I can't believe this.
Isn't that something. Everything that you were currently worried about all erased. Just like that! With a click of a button, he's forgotten about you entirely, Edgar. Why do you care about him at all?
I don't necessarily care about him. You could almost call it an obligation, but that's not the correct word either.
Either way, it doesn't matter. Whatever 'obligation' you feel towards him obviously isn't returned. It's a waste of time. A waste of emotion. A-
Do you ever shut up? Can I sit here for a few hours and watch television without thinking about the entire universe and my place in it for a few seconds? Can I? Is that okay with you?
Silence.
He appreciated it so much more lately.
Hours passed.
Edgar had no obligation to fulfill the following day, so he was not too concerned about the passage of time.
Johnny had control of the remote and Edgar did not even consider asking for it. It seemed that Johnny had a somewhat dubious taste in television, compared to his previous choice of film, but Edgar enjoyed it to some degree. It wasn't entirely bad. Just not his personal preference.
He noted, with some interest, a commercial for Zeitgeist flick by as Johnny changed channels. Actually seeing Scriabin in motion, even for only a few seconds, was incredibly disconcerting. His mental image of Scriabin had been cemented as the small action figure. To see him move was...eerie to some degree.
As time went by, he noticed that Johnny was beginning to drift occasionally. He had leaned his head against the armrest of the couch after the first few shows. His eyes would close for only a few minutes before he would awaken, his entire body jerking as if he had been shocked again.
With each of these catnaps came the same series of questions.
"Who are you? What are you doing in my house?"
"I'm Edgar and you invited me here. Remember?"
That seemed to give him a frame of reference, something that he could base a reality on, and he would settle back to watching the screen. However, with each lapse in control Johnny seemed to be getting more irritated. It was easy to guess that he was not too fond of sleeping and the fact he was succumbing to it was only making him more frustrated.
Edgar was not exceptionally tired, but then again he had slept the previous night. From the jerkiness of Johnny's motions, the dark bags under his eyes, the occasional yawns, uncontrollable catnaps, and perhaps an increase in the instability of his reality, all seemed to point to a severe lack of sleep. For how long Edgar could not guess. He was not an expert in this field. A week? A few days? A month? How long had Johnny been awake?
Hard to say. But his body wanted to sleep. Johnny's mind refused.
Eventually, in an apparent effort to stave off his encroaching sleepiness, Johnny stopped leaning against the armrest and sat bolt upright in the direct center of the couch, arms crossed sulkily as he stared forward.
Edgar sat beside him, mentally debating whether or not he should shake Johnny awake if he drifted off again. He doubted that would be a good idea.
Eventually, Johnny's head fell backwards against the couch and he fell asleep, this time semi-permanently. Unable to find any other measure of time, Edgar waited, wondering how long this nap would last. Two programs started and ended, but Johnny did not move. Only the somewhat labored sounds of Johnny's windpipe, bent at what had to be an uncomfortable angle, broke the banter of the television.
Should I go? I mean...he's asleep. Really asleep now. I don't know if he wants me here.
Or rather, if you want to be here when he wakes up. He's not exactly the best person to wake up next to. He's nuts.
Really? I hadn't noticed. Either way...I should probably go. He needs more room on the couch anyway.
Edgar sat up straight and stretched his tired and somewhat aching back. He yawned silently to himself, feeling the sudden unexpected onset of his own exhaustion. Maybe movement had brought it to his attention.
Feeling somewhat clumsy from staying in one position for so long, he leaned against the cushions beside him in order to get leverage to lift himself upwards.
However, he forgot that this sometimes affected other people resting on the cushions.
Johnny, who had turned away from Edgar slightly in his sleep, now rolled towards him, following the depression of the cushion he was resting on. Edgar froze in his position, hand still pressing downwards.
Johnny continued to shift along with the cushion. Edgar watched with a rising sense of panic as his head began to slip from the back of the couch, his body falling towards him.
Without conscious thought, Edgar angled himself towards him and moved forward, using his side and shoulder to block his fall. Or at least, that was his intent.
Instead, all he did was provide Johnny a new place to rest.
Now he was trapped against the armrest, Johnny resting against him. His right arm was trapped against his lap underneath Johnny's body, his left propped up against the armrest, desperately keeping himself upright.
Oh shit.
Oh shit!
What do I do now!
This isn't good this isn't good at all I have to do something I have to...
Well, you can't wake him up. Could you imagine his reaction? If he freaked out so much before just because you were in his house, imagine how he would feel if he woke up and found himself lying on you with no explanation.
What should I do? What should I do! I don't know, I don't know, this is-
Calm down, first of all. Can you move him?
Edgar tried to gently push Johnny off of him, but now the angle of Johnny's head had changed. He was resting against his shoulder, close enough so that his hair brushed against his face. With light experimentation, Edgar determined that moving or pushing his body away would allow Johnny's head to fall or twist away, waking him up.
Shit!
Such profanity. Stay calm and try to think logically. You can't move him, right?
Apparently not.
You can't reach anything, right?
No.
No pillows or anything?
I haven't seen a pillow in this house anywhere. I think he sleeps on this couch. If he does sleep.
Well, we determined that he does, in fact, do that. The problem now is how he is going to react. He's not going to like this at all.
I know but-
I'm trying to think. He mentioned that realities kept shifting for him, and his previous behavior indicated that he has problems with that when he sleeps. He thinks reality has shifted again when he wakes. Can't tell dream from life.
I know this all already.
When he wakes up, he won't know if this is reality or a dream.
And your point?
I'm trying to think. Lying and telling him this is a dream would not be a good choice here. He would eventually figure out that we lied and therefore, he would kill you. However, claiming this is reality won't work either. This wasn't his reality when he fell asleep. It obviously changed.
This isn't getting me anywhere.
...I can't think of anything.
...shit.
And I think my arm is falling asleep.
Author's Note: Ya should all get Massive Attack's Everywhen, Ben Fold's The Ascent of Stan and Carrying Cathy, and a song called Yellowstone by Rhexx, cause those songs have inspired a ton of this fic. Seriously.