If he was right, he would've known it, felt it. But he didn't feel that at all. He was tired and drained and wished sleep was easy. Lying down and getting comfortable was only half way there, and that was hard, harder. Hardest.
He's always there, stuck in neutral with no turning around. It's impossible to move forward, in this state. This state of weakness, thinking and feeling and something else. And now he's alone, without Lili and the world is gone, dismissed from his mind. Replaced. He misses adventures and wants one.
There'd always been one, since the circus, there was at least. He could drive and wave and smile, but this. This was something, so difficult and painful and bloody. He sneezed so hard that blood came out, splattered on the wall and his pillow and his face. He was allergic. He had a cold. He was sick sick sick.
Raz had always explored his mind. No one had been in his, not before. Not like this man was. Sasha, ohh Sasha, sickly sweetness. And he wanted proof. He was thinking and watching, viewing a movie in his head. A slide show. Sasha was there and the movie was a matinee. It'd been the longest running show. But there'd been no reviews before, nothing like this.
If people told him so, then it must be. They think, therefore I am. He'd never realized or explored or nothing. If Sasha had always been there, why did he not know he was- gay? He was gay? He was?
He'd seen it in the past. Sasha would think it and Raz had heard it in his mind. At least, once, he remembered. Was that an illusion? When had that happened? Had he seen Sasha since then, since Sasha had told him? Or, rather, he let him. Let Raz see, listen, know and view this secret. His secret, their secret.
But, no. He'd told Raz, the man. He'd shown him and it was him. Raz was there in Sasha's mind. He was there and outside looking in at himself and it was strange and wrong, so wrong, and odd and just. Wow.
What a headache Raz possessed.
There was always breakfast time and for once, he wanted to stay in bed. But abnormal didn't mix nor fit. So he got up and made his bed and took a shower and got dressed and left his room. The door was locked and shut tight in its frame. There were no windows to look into and no peephole to look out from. Just the empty, wooden door. It was old and tired and looked sad. Like it fit in place, but didn't want to be there, guard its secret.
"Hey, Fagzputin!" Spit, everywhere, possibly on his official Psychonauts uniform. Disrespect and humiliation. And Benny's black eye matched Bobby's fist.
Benny snorted and then not only was there spit and saliva, but snot as well. Raz looked down and saw nothing but felt it anyway. It was.
"Bobby, I think your hair is starting to take over your brain." His hands trembled.
Bobby snorted and even though Raz was a pacifist at heart, he told himself to do it anyway. He wanted to so badly, like he'd been waiting. But-
"Back off Raz," Bobby threatened. And it was serious, names were at stake.
So Raz looked at them and took a step forward. They were ugly and glaring and angry, which was nothing new. Nothing unusual or or anything. Just aggravating. And if only his hair would stay behind his goggles, then everything would be okay.
"Move, I'm hungry and breakfast is waiting." He could smell the bacon, sauntering past Bobby and Benny and Bobby's hair.
"But Sasha's room is in the other direction. Ha-ha."
He shifted, reversing his body and facing them again. Bobby was smirking and Benny had no expression. He stood back, behind, worried. And Raz stood still and firm. He was past disgusted. He wished he could and he wanted to, but he didn't. He never would. Just ignore them, they don't actually mean it. Though they do.
In the dining hall, Raz's fried eggs boiled. Steam. The bacon was placed in the shape of a face, smiling. His stomach gurgled and whirled, but he wasn't hungry. He looked around the room, seemingly bored and incomplete. Raz smiles, almost, child like and empty. He stands and walks. He dumps his smile into the garbage.
"Hey Dogen."
Dogen set down his fork and picked his fork up and looked at his fork. "Hi Razz umm I'm not supposed to be talking to you."
"Why not?" He blinks.
"The-the other kids told me not too," he snuffles and slides his hand under his nose. "Not unless I want to be called names too."
Ohh. "Ohh. I understand."
Dogen puts his fork in his mouth and taps his helmet. "Sorry Raz."
Raz shuffles away and know how it hurts, it must feel. That way. And so he decides that it's time for this to end.
"Knock, knock, tap."
"Is that you Razputin?"
Raz took his hand off the door and put it behind his back. Sigh. Now.
"Yes, hi," the door opens.
Sasha Nein was sitting and reading, looking down now up. He smiled like he had forgotten. He looked the same and probably felt that way too. Raz was so afraid now, unusually so, like drowning and choking and sobbing.
"I have not seen you in a while," he says and he folds his papers and puts them away. Like the newspaper, in the mornings, drinking coffee at the table. Something that married couples do. And.
"Razputin, are you feeling fine?"
Raz was dizzy and blushing and wait why am I here? he has forgotten. He stands and is looking and if he runs now, that's the end. So he doesn't move, but his lips want to. His tongue does. Blood, thick and rich. Breakfast.
"Yes I'm fine well I just wanted to talk to you so… Yeah."
Sasha stands and beckons and Raz stumbles and sits and he feels lightheaded, underwater, and he may just faint.
"Would you like some coffee?"
He doesn't drink it but-
"Sure."
Sasha leaves so Raz sits back, his feet barely touching the ground. His face is warm, he knows, he can feel it and in his mind it's there. It's hot and there's heat surrounding him, his face is burning. Under his nose is black coffee in a plain white mug. No stains.
"You don't look too good. Or are you just tired?"
Raz stares and takes the cup and for once their hands touch. And even with gloves on, both of them. There are no fingerprints and now Raz knows there is more. He tries the coffee and it tastes heavy, swallowing it is like a mud slide. He doesn't like it.
"Sasha?" He manages, but he can't.
Sasha leans down, squatting in front of Raz. Raz takes a gulp. Heavy and uncomfortable.
And then there is them and their lips.
Uhm, yeah.
Psychonauts is not mine, that's fer sure.