Soushi thinks he must be dreaming.

He's in his room in the Toomi residence, late enough that it's lit only by the moon outside. But Maris is there, sitting on Soushi's bed as though he belongs in this place and on this island, and it's so casual and Soushi's mind is so foggy, and… it must be a dream, right? It feels dreamlike, soft and unreal and with the room lit in faint silver light. Maris can't really be here and, anyway, surely even he wouldn't be so brazen as to turn up like it's nothing after the last time. Right?

If it's a dream, it's fine for Soushi to sway into the contact when Maris' hand comes up to rest on his right cheek. If it's a dream, it's fine for him to lift his own hand to hold Maris' in place. If it's a dream, it's fine that he wants so, so badly to kiss him.

(He doesn't. Even in his dreams, Soushi has never been that bold, and knowing the truth of things doesn't make it easier. All it means is that he shouldn't want that, and that he does nonetheless is a weakness in him.)

Maris hums thoughtfully, his eyes lidded as he watches Soushi, and the sound makes Soushi shiver and shift closer to him on the bed.

He doesn't protest when the hand on his cheek slides up into his loose hair to rest against the back of his skull, Maris holding Soushi in place as he shifts onto his knees and comes closer himself.

"I wonder how long you've wanted that?" Maris asks, voice soft in the darkness.

Soushi shivers again, opening his mouth to answer and then not managing more than a quiet, embarrassingly breathy noise as he stares into Maris' eyes. He's half-aware of Maris smiling, slow and lazy in a way that makes warmth coil not-entirely-pleasantly in Soushi's stomach, but he can't actually tear his eyes away from that intense, half-lidded gaze.

(There's a growing ache in the back of his head, like something stretching out inside his skull. His mind feels foggy, though, and the dull ache feels so much less important than Maris' presence in this dream.)

"Please," he manages to breathe out, as Maris shifts close enough for his eyes to be all that Soushi can see. Close enough that if Soushi could bring himself to lean in, he could take what he wants instead of letting Maris, once again, be the one to decide what Soushi does and does not have.

He can't bring himself to do it, even so. But Maris huffs out a soft laugh, breath ghosting over Soushi's mouth and making him shudder, and starts to lean in himself.

Maris is close enough for his own lips to just barely brush against Soushi's, before the ache in Soushi's head resolves into a stabbing pain in his left eye so intense that he can't help but cry out, hand shooting up to cover it and his head ducking down so fast that he ends up clipping Maris' chin with his forehead and making him jolt backwards on the bed.

Are you awake now? his predecessor's voice snaps in his head, and— that's—

(It's not a dream. It hasn't ever been a dream. The pain in his eye and in his forehead, the other Soushi's voice in his mind, the fact that he can actually think straight now that he's not caught in Maris' gaze, it's all—)

Soushi snaps his head up. Maris is staring back at him, one eyebrow raised. He looks utterly unfazed, despite the red mark blooming on his chin where Soushi had caught him.

Despite the fact that he just tried to mess with Soushi's head again, didn't he? Soushi's walls aren't up, because— because Maris had woken him from a deep sleep, he can remember now, and so Soushi had been easy pickings for another Esperanto, hadn't he?

Easy pickings for Maris. Again.

Except that it's worse this time. Maris might be the one who'd tried to take advantage, but isn't Soushi the one who'd wanted those things from him? Isn't Soushi the one who still can't strangle those feelings entirely, even as Maris sits and stares at him, utterly remorseless?

(Isn't Soushi the one who childishly, selfishly, half-wishes that the other Soushi had taken just a few moments longer to break whatever spell Maris had over him?)

He should say something. He should do something. He should alert the rest of the house, should kick Maris out of his room, should do anything other than just staring wild-eyed at Maris.

In the end, there's only one thing he can do, though. He can't just let Maris go, even if he wants to. He can't do anything that would bring the wrath of the island down on Maris, even if Maris deserves it.

But Soushi isn't the only one in this body, and he isn't the only one who can control this body. So maybe it's cowardly, and maybe later he'll hate himself for this just as much as he hates the feelings that won't go away, but Soushi grasps at where he can feel his predecessor's presence and shoves, hard and fast until he feels disconnected from his own limbs and can feel the other Soushi's wild-eyed confusion at being in control.

(And then he runs, until he couldn't tell what's happening around his body even if he wanted to.)