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Jun. 22nd, 2013 02:22 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
kyleklimSometimes he nods off in the middle of the afternoon, using a textbook as a pillow, his arms and neck all uncovered and vulnerable. He can’t help it; there are bags under his eyes, and the sun is warmer on his shoulders than he could have ever expected it to be, and sometimes advanced calculus simply isn’t interesting enough to make up for the late nights when he’s all alone. And then he finds himself disoriented, and it’s evening, and there’s a blanket draped across his shoulders and a cat nudging his head. Sometimes it takes him a minute to remember that this is normal. There are people here, and sunlight, and cats, and he can go without the armor without any sort of fear of consequences.
It’s nice, really. That sort of nap tends to be a deeper, sweeter sleep than he usually gets, all warm and soft and light.
But when he tries sleeping without the armor at night, it’s different. He finds himself tossing and turning. He’s sure he felt something touching his arm, or his foot, or his cheek. He brushes at it, but there isn’t anything there. He’s too cold, and then he’s too hot--without the armor, there’s nothing to regulate his temperature. He can feel the hair standing up on his arms and the back of his neck. His feet are pressing against one another. It’s oddly disconcerting to feel his own skin. Strangely, when he goes without the armor, he tends to feel more alone than ever, and always finds himself forcing himself out of bed at one or two or three in the morning to walk over and put it back on again and only then, only after several more minutes, does he finally fall asleep.
The whole thing is tiring, and it’s always a reminder of how far he has to go before he can really escape from the other history. He can’t show his face to strangers (sometimes he can barely show it to the people who know him); he can’t sleep normally; he can’t shake the feeling that if this Sigma Klim and that Sigma Klim are one and the same, then... No, not everything is the same. Because this time there is sun and cats and blankets and everything will be alright, won’t it?
Yes. Clearly. Certainly.
It has to.
It’s nice, really. That sort of nap tends to be a deeper, sweeter sleep than he usually gets, all warm and soft and light.
But when he tries sleeping without the armor at night, it’s different. He finds himself tossing and turning. He’s sure he felt something touching his arm, or his foot, or his cheek. He brushes at it, but there isn’t anything there. He’s too cold, and then he’s too hot--without the armor, there’s nothing to regulate his temperature. He can feel the hair standing up on his arms and the back of his neck. His feet are pressing against one another. It’s oddly disconcerting to feel his own skin. Strangely, when he goes without the armor, he tends to feel more alone than ever, and always finds himself forcing himself out of bed at one or two or three in the morning to walk over and put it back on again and only then, only after several more minutes, does he finally fall asleep.
The whole thing is tiring, and it’s always a reminder of how far he has to go before he can really escape from the other history. He can’t show his face to strangers (sometimes he can barely show it to the people who know him); he can’t sleep normally; he can’t shake the feeling that if this Sigma Klim and that Sigma Klim are one and the same, then... No, not everything is the same. Because this time there is sun and cats and blankets and everything will be alright, won’t it?
Yes. Clearly. Certainly.
It has to.
