Rabbit Starvation EDITED

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Around you, the diner is empty. Silent but for the greasy crackle of the fluorescent lights and the quiet sounds echoing out from the kitchen. The <<cycle "$man" autoselect>> <<option "↩man">> <<option "↩woman">> <<option "↩person">> <</cycle>> sitting across from you [[smiles disarmingly.|2]] <<set $affection to 0>> <<set $hate to false>> <<set $hand to false>> <<set $didnttalkaboutit to false>> <<set $thought to false>> <<set $thanks to false>> <<set $frozen to false>> <<set $diner to false>> <<set $parkinglot to false>> <<set $booth to false>> <<set $close to false>> <<set $carno to false>>

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<div class="hero glitch layers" data-text="Rabbit Starvation"><span>Rabbit Starvation</span></div>

<<set $gamechapter = "chapter">>

<<nobr>> <<if $man is "↩man">> <<set $hed to "he'd">> <<set $he to "he">> <<set $his to "his">> <<set $him to "him">> <<set $himself to "himself">> <<set $heis to "he is">> <<set $hes to "he's">> <<set $Hed to "He'd">> <<set $He to "He">> <<set $His to "His">> <<set $Him to "Him">> <<set $Himself to "Himself">> <<set $Heis to "He is">> <<set $Hes to "He's">> <<set $s to "s">> <<set $es to "es">> <<set $has to "has">> <<set $is to "is">> <<set $isnt to "isn't">> <<set $hiss to "his">> <<set $does to "does">> <<set $doesnt to "doesn't">> <<set $was to "was">> <<set $hasnt to "hasn't">> <</if>> <<if $man is "↩woman">> <<set $hed to "she'd">> <<set $himself to "herself">> <<set $he to "she">> <<set $his to "her">> <<set $him to "her">> <<set $heis to "she is">> <<set $hes to "she's">> <<set $Hed to "She'd">> <<set $Himself to "Herself">> <<set $He to "She">> <<set $His to "Her">> <<set $Him to "Her">> <<set $Heis to "She is">> <<set $Hes to "She's">> <<set $s to "s">> <<set $es to "es">> <<set $has to "has">> <<set $is to "is">> <<set $isnt to "isn't">> <<set $hiss to "hers">> <<set $does to "does">> <<set $doesnt to "doesn't">> <<set $was to "was">> <<set $hasnt to "hasn't">> <</if>> <<if $man is "↩person">> <<set $hed to "they'd">> <<set $himself to "themself">> <<set $he to "they">> <<set $his to "their">> <<set $him to "them">> <<set $heis to "they are">> <<set $hes to "they're">> <<set $Hed to "They'd">> <<set $Himself to "Themself">> <<set $He to "They">> <<set $His to "Their">> <<set $Him to "Them">> <<set $Heis to "They are">> <<set $Hes to "They're">> <<set $s to "">> <<set $es to "">> <<set $has to "have">> <<set $is to "are">> <<set $isnt to "aren't">> <<set $hiss to "theirs">> <<set $does to "do">> <<set $doesnt to "don't">> <<set $was to "were">> <<set $hasnt to "haven't">> <</if>> <</nobr>> <div class="hero glitch layers" data-text="glitch"><span>“It’s good to finally be able to talk like this again,”</span></div> $he say$s, <div class="hero glitch layers" data-text="glitch"><span>“just the two of us. I’ve missed it.”</span></div> The diner lights cast $him into haunting shadow, darkness clinging to the harsh angles of $his face with a kind of hesitant infatuation. Feather-light touch playing tender at $his jawline. Slowly, $he draw$s a fry through $his obnoxiously pink milkshake before biting it cleanly in half, $his teeth glinting white and predatory. - [[''I've missed it too.''|3a]] - [[''I've missed you.''|3b]] - [[Say nothing.|3c]]

You aren't quite sure if it is a confession or an evasion, brushing a thumb across the condensation on your own glass listlessly, hoping that the sting of the ice would somehow ground you. Smiling back. Trying to remember how to do this. Horrifyingly, you think you meant what you said. $He hum$s in response, quiet and pleased, and the sound is so familiar you can almost feel it in your bones. [[Can remember what it once felt like against your skin.|4]]

<<set $affection to $affection+1>>Painfully genuine. You can't have meant to say it. Not the way you did. Not with that raw, awful desperation underpinning every word. A confession more terrifying than anything you've ever faced before. It stops $him in $his tracks. Puts a look on $his face that is reverent and calculating and inscruitable all at once. You swallow and taste acid in your throat. For far, far, far too long, the silence lingers. Finally, $hes the one that breaks it, [[gazing away with an awkward laugh.|4]]

$His smile falters slightly at your lack of response - a change so slight it would be imperceptible if you did not know $him so well. If you had not spent so long cataloguing $his expressions with a care that could only have been born of pure affection. Even now, something in you aches to reach out. To smooth the subtle tightness from the corners of $his eyes. You bite the inside of your cheek hard enough to taste rust. Finally, $he speak$s, freeing you both from the [[strange tension.|4]]

<div class="hero glitch layers" data-text="glitch"><span>“So, how has everything been?”</span></div> Another fry. You find yourself hesitating before answering, and when you do, you can't quite keep the undercurrent of resentment from seeping into your voice. - [[''Awful.''|5]] - [[''Just fucking fantastic, thanks.''|5]] - [[''How do you think I've been?''|5]]

$He $has the grace, at least, to look apologetic, turning $his eyes from you to look out the darkened windows. Out at nothing, $his own reflection a bitter sanctuary. You clear your throat. Ashamed, for some reason, and with anger turning inward at the shame. In a vain attempt to escape it, you find yourself sipping from your own drink and allowing your gaze to follow $hiss. Untenably, $he $is more human in $his mirror image, even as the night darkens the shadows around $his eyes and hollows $his cheeks. Or maybe it's just the quiet. The fact that $he $isnt looking at you. It give you time to watch $him. To consider the way $his fingers play at the edge of $his plate. The rise and fall of $his chest with every breath. Alive, then. So strangely alive. For a moment, you almost want to tell $him that. Stupid. Illogical. But with such a sudden flood of desperation that you have to swallow around the sudden sting in your throat. Instead, what you say is much worse. - [[''Why would you even ask me that?''|6]] - [[''Surely you knew that.''|6]] - [[''So we're just pretending that this is all normal?''|6]]

$He turn$s back to you with a start, eyes wide. And again, as if someone somewhere had suddenly flipped some cruel switch, $he $is intangible once more, unreality painted across from you in washed out greys. Like a mirage too close but not quite there, daring you to reach out and touch. You realise with a start that your nails are digging into your palms, hard enough to draw blood. $He say$s your name. Trails off. You make the conscious effort not to hear it. Can't. Don't know if you would be able to stand hearing your name in $his voice. Don't know what it would do to you. - [[''You were dead.''|7]]

$He $does it again. Say$s your fucking name again. Reach$es out falteringly across the surface of the diner table as if to take your hand in $hiss. - [[You drag your hand back.|8a]] - [[You leave your hand where it is.|8b]]

$His flinch is so subtle you may have imagined it. Another long silence. Awkward. Wrong. And maybe the waitress picks up on this, or maybe she's just trying to subtly hint to you that it just might be time to leave, 24-hour neon sign be damned, because she's suddenly there, smiling stiffly at you from behind her notepad. "You two need anything else?" - [[You give her a faint smile.|9a]] - [[You can't bring yourself to look up at her.|9b]]

The waitress gives you a polite smile in response, her eyes softening at the corners with something tiredly genuine. <div class="hero glitch layers" data-text="glitch"><span>“We'd actually love two more black coffees, if that's ok?”</span></div> $He hesitate$s, a self-conscious laugh embarrassingly human as $he look$s over at your cup of <<cycle "$coffee" autoselect>> <<option "↩coffee">> <<option "↩tea">> <<option "↩iced tea">> <<option "↩water">> <<option "↩juice">> <</cycle>>, still almost full. <div class="hero glitch layers" data-text="glitch"><span>“Or maybe just one,”</span></div> $he amend$s. The waitress hums in acknowledgement before stepping away, heading back for the kitchen. And for a while it feels almost normal again between you. As though you would not have to face the inevitability of the words $hes clearly gearing $himself up to say. The peace doesn't last. <div class="hero glitch layers" data-text="glitch"><span>“I'm here now,”</span></div> $he say$s. You wonder if the words are as discomforting to $him as to you, or if $hes just trying to entrap you with $his hesitance. To draw you in with the /* [[10]] */ <<link "overwhelming humanity of $his uncertainty." "10">><</link>>

$He $has no such issue, smiling up at her with a familiar affability. <div class="hero glitch layers" data-text="glitch"><span>“We'd actually love two more black coffees, if that's ok?”</span></div> She makes a noncommittal noise, tapping her pen once against the notepad before stepping away. You replay the quiet sound of it in your mind as you frown down at your cup of <<cycle "$coffee" autoselect>> <<option "↩coffee">> <<option "↩tea">> <<option "↩iced tea">> <<option "↩water">> <<option "↩juice">> <</cycle>>, still almost full. A useless little attempt to avoid the inevitability of $his next words, now that $his gaze is fixed back on you. <div class="hero glitch layers" data-text="glitch"><span>“I'm here now,”</span></div> $he say$s. But it's quiet. You wonder if the words are as discomforting to $him as to you, or if $hes just trying to entrap you with $his hesitance. To draw you in with the /* [[10]] */ <<link "overwhelming humanity of $his uncertainty." "10">><</link>>

<<set $affection to $affection+1>><<set $hand to true>>It is almost a challenge. A dare of sorts. Or that's how you justify it to yourself, feeling $him give your fingers a soft squeeze before briefly entangling $his fingers with yours. An old, familiar action that seems to give $him some sense of reassurance, because when the waitress approaches and $he $has to pull $his hand back away from yours, the grin $he give$s you is both soft and secretive. "You two need anything else?" - [[You give her a faint smile.|9a]] - [[You can't bring yourself to look up at her.|9b]]

<<nobr>> <<if $coffee is "↩coffee">><<set$drink to "coffee">><</if>> <<if $coffee is "↩tea">><<set$drink to "tea">><</if>> <<if $coffee is "↩iced tea">><<set$drink to "iced tea">><</if>> <<if $coffee is "↩water">><<set$drink to "water">><</if>> <<if $coffee is "↩juice">><<set$drink to "juice">><</if>> <</nobr>>"You're here now," you find yourself echoing. [[The way hollow things do.|11]]

The silence settles over you once more. <<if $hand is true>> Listlessly, you trace the curve of your own palm, where the touch of $his hand still lingers, and the sense of loss you feel is as sharp and immediate as the relief.<</if>> - [[Say nothing.|12a]] - [[''It was a good funeral.''|12b]]

$He exhale$s. Look$s at you with an expression that is painfully, embarrassingly genuine. Getting ready to say something you are not ready to hear. - /* [[12c]] */ <<link "Interrupt $him." "12c">><</link>> - /* [[12aa]] */ <<link "Let $him say it." "12aa">><</link>>

$He gnaw$s at $his lip. Instinctively, you turn your eyes away to look over $his shoulder instead. Fix your eyes on the sputtering lights of the empty parking lot. <div class="hero glitch layers" data-text="glitch"><span>“Yeah?"</span></div> $he ask$s, finally. - [[''Yeah.''|13]] - [[You can't bring yourself to continue.|12d]]

Once you start speaking you can't stop. “Yeah. There were… flowers. Your favourite flowers. I—” Shouldn’t say it, but you do. You spit it out onto the table between you, this thing you’ve been holding in your chest for what has felt like an eternity. “—wouldn’t let them bury you without it. Wanted it to be done properly. Wanted it to be something you would have liked.” You manage to stop yourself, taking another sip from your $drink. Try to wash away the taste of the words but you can feel them clinging to your teeth like a sudden flush of bile. Shameful, this kind of confession. It's not the kind of thing $he should ever have known. Don't even know why you've brought it up now. As if in some desperate, pathetic bid for validation. To say it. To get some sign that you did the right thing. [[Undeserved, unattainable absolution.|14]]

“Sorry. Fuck. I shouldn’t have— I mean it’s like you said, we haven’t had a chance to speak and I shouldn’t have—” $He reach$es out again. Find$s your hand <<if $hand is true>>again<<else>>this time<</if>> and untangles it from its death grip on the cold <<nobr>> <<if $coffee is "↩coffee">>mug<</if>> <<if $coffee is "↩tea">>teacup<</if>> <<if $coffee is "↩iced tea">>glass<</if>> <<if $coffee is "↩water">>glass<</if>> <<if $coffee is "↩juice">>glass<</if>> <</nobr>>. <div class="hero glitch layers" data-text="glitch"><span>“Thank you,”</span></div> $he say$s. Draws $his thumb over your knuckles like a familiarity. Like it's the most natural thing in the world. And you can't breathe with it. /* [[15]] */ <<link "Might hate $him for it." "15">><</link>>

Can't look at $him. Can't make yourself vulnerable to $him in that way. And the whole time you can feel the old familiarity of $his hand in yours. Muscle memory something you thought was long dead and buried. Like $him, a haunting sinking cold electric fingers into your spine. $He hesitate$s. Unsure, again. Heartbreakingly gentle with the light behind $him haloing the loose, silky strands of $his hair. Digs the knife in anyway. <div class="hero glitch layers" data-text="glitch"><span>“You've been avoiding me,”</span></div> $he say$s. With an innocent kind of softness. Like $he really $doesnt know why. Like $hes really $him, returned from some innocuous trip to find $himself [[wronged by you and your coldness.|16]]

And your guilt is immediate and instinctive. And with guilt- Doubt. Doubt adding to everything else that's been choking you alive. - [[''I haven't.''|17a]] - [[''... I'm sorry.''|17b]]

It's a lie. A half-hearted one, at that. $He just smile$s, sad. Takes a moment to collect $himself. $He never did like to point out when you were being dishonest, or unfair. Always let you get away with too much, even when it hurt. You are aware of that. Always were. Painfully so. <i>Déjà vu. Déjà vu</i> with a recognisable source, which maybe just means memory. But memory doesn’t do justice to that [[ceaseless, pervasive wrongness.|18]]

$His shock hurts to witness. But that's how it's always been, hasn't it? Always so suprised whenever you don't duck away, when you don't evade or find an excuse. Like $hes expecting something else from you. Or maybe that's not fair. Maybe you're spinning pleased affection into something worse. Like you always do. <i>Déjà vu. Déjà vu</i> with a recognisable source, which maybe just means memory. But memory doesn’t do justice to that [[ceaseless, pervasive wrongness.|18]] <<set $thanks to true>> <<set $affection to $affection+1>>

When $he came back— when $he returned from the dead, everyone said that a mistake must have been made. $His body hadn't gone through any extensive examination or modification after death, after all. $He'd had a natural burial, and the rigor mortis and lividity had been such that $he'd been pronounced dead at the scene. And so the story forms itself. Medical anomaly. $Him crawling $his way out of $his own grave, tired, feverish, $his knuckles stained with $his own blood and the splinters digging all the way to the bone. Thank god $hed broken through the wood. Thank god $hed found $his way back to us. Thank god. It is an easy story. There is no other explanation. And $he wouldn’t say anything, of course. Said $he didn’t remember and who could blame $him? But you knew $him better than most. Too well, maybe. And sometimes $he got this look in $his eyes, the smallest touch of imperceptible caution the same way $he did when $he spun $his delicate little white lies for you. <i>‘It’s ok,’</i> or, <i>‘you don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to,’</i> or, <i>‘I understand.’</i> [[Always with that gentle affection that drove you mad.|19]]

<<if $thanks is true>><div class="hero glitch layers" data-text="glitch"><span>“It's enough that we're here now.”</span></div><<else>><div class="hero glitch layers" data-text="glitch"><span>“I guess we have both been busy.”</span></div><</if>> $He $has that same look in $his eyes now. And then- It takes you just a second too long to register what $hes doing. What that sly little look towards the empty counter - to make sure the waitress had returned to the kitchen or to her smoke break - means. Rusty. Out of practice. It took $him two months to find $his disorientated way back - $he'd been buried a good few towns away, an old family plot - and it's been three months since that. And in the meanwhile you had busied yourself with forgetting as though your life had depended on it. But now $he smile$s at you and draw$s your hand - still in $hiss - towards $him. Entwines $his fingers even closer with yours and dips $his head low to press $his lips against the back of your hand. All of it slow and sure and gentle. And $his lips are warm. The soft whisper of $his breath over the back of your hand a staggering testament to $his sheer [[aliveness.|20]]

- [[You freeze.|20a]] - [[You force yourself to relax.|20b]] <<nobr>> <<if $affection < 2>> - [[You pull your hand back.|20c]] <<else>> - [[You pull your hand back.|21e]] <</if>> <</nobr>>

Like a deer in the headlights. Something great and terrible barrelling down, far too large to even comprehend. You think you understand how roadkill feels, the moment before they're struck by something they will never have any way of even understanding. The dazing enchantment of light enough to burn your eyes. How can you live with this? With $him? With whatever this is? You are still frozen, even as $he pull$s away, hurt and apologetic. <i>Don't forget.</i> You remind yourself. <i>[[Don't forget.|22]]</i> <<set $frozen to true>>

Muscle by muscle. An intentional kind of relaxation, forcing the tension from yourself. The soft curve of $his lips against your skin breaks your heart. Familiar. Above all. And isn't that the problem? How familiar it all is. How easy it would be to fall back into old habits, move your hand to cup $his face in yours, feel $him lean into your palm, warm and trusting and sweet. How easy it would be to lie to yourself. - [[You do it, anyway.|21d]] - [[You pull back sharply.|20c]] - [[You pull away gently.|21e]]

When you pull your hand back, it is a panicked movement with far too much force behind it. One violent action clipping $his nose and knocking so hard into your $drink that it sends a shockwave of numbness up your arm. $He reel$s back, something flashing strange and alien in $his eyes that you don't have the time to process before the sound of the <<nobr>> <<if $coffee is "↩coffee">>mug<</if>> <<if $coffee is "↩tea">>teacup<</if>> <<if $coffee is "↩iced tea">>glass<</if>> <<if $coffee is "↩water">>glass<</if>> <<if $coffee is "↩juice">>glass<</if>> <</nobr>> shattering cuts through it all. "Are you two-" The waitress, again, weariness pressed into the bags under her eyes as she takes in the scene. You, half drenched with your arm still pulled awkwardly back. $Him with $his eyes wide. The sad, pathetic drip of $drink punctuating the silence. - [[''Shit.'' You kneel down to try and pick up the pieces.|21a]] - [[You're frozen to the spot.|21b]] - [[Shame turns to anger. Anger to hate. You need space.|21c]]

The waitress waves you away with a short, tired exhale. "Thanks, but don't worry about it," she tells you, "I'll get into more trouble if you get cut or something, anyway. If you could just step somewhere else while I grab some rags from the kitchen-" She trails off meaningfully as she ducks back into the kitchen, giving the two of you a brief nod. You give her a smile in turn and push yourself up from the booth, being careful to avoid the shards scattered across the floor. Trying not to think about it. The warmth of $him, still lingering. [[So undeniably real and human.|22]] <<set $diner to true>>

$He apologise$s. The waitress tells $him it’s ok, and that she’ll do the cleaning up. Assures $him and tells $him that it’s her job. That she’ll get into trouble if a customer gets hurt. You can barely hear them over the buzzing in your ears. Know what it looks like. You, still sitting there, frozen and rude and numb. But you can’t bring yourself to move. Can only stare numbly ahead, where $he had been. For far too long. Feeling it build. A rising, the bile burning through your throat. /* [[22]] */ <<link "The warmth of $him still lingering. Staining your fingers. " "22">><</link>> <<set $frozen to true>>

Hate. Hate and distrust. Did $he think it would be so easy to let go of what you know is the truth? So easy to let yourself forget and believe? A pretty enough smile and a few soft allusions to a rosier past. Would that be all it takes for you to betray the reality of $his memory? You're moving before you can even register it, pushing yourself up from the booth with a ferocity you only recognise with a cold kind of distance, the shards breaking under your feet with a sickening kind of crunch. Nothing like bone, but it reminds you of shattering anyway. You do not let yourself look back at whatever expression is on $his face. You do not let yourself look back as $he stumble$s out of $his seat to follow you. <div class="hero glitch layers" data-text="glitch"><span>"Please."</span></div> You don't look back. <div class="hero glitch layers" data-text="glitch"><span>"Just talk to me."</span></div> The automatic door slide open, and you're hit with the merciless coldness of the night air. <div class="hero glitch layers" data-text="glitch"><span>"Why won't you just talk to me?"</span></div> /* [[22]] */ <<link "You hear the exact moment $his tone turns bitter." "22">><</link>> <<set $parkinglot to true>> <<set $hate to true>>

$He'd been so cold when you'd finally found $him, all those months ago. Lifeless, the dew and the remnants of last night's rain beading on $his skin, casting a thousand tiny particles of shattered light over $his face. The exposed sclera of $his open eyes. Wide. Blank. Staring out at nothing, $his neck at an angle that made you nauseous. That spark of life gone from it. You'd checked for $his pulse in a haze, /* [[23]] */ <<link "already knowing $he $was dead." "23">><</link>>

"It was a good funeral." The only words that come to mind. still. After all this. $He gnaw$s at $his lip. Instinctively, you turn your eyes away to look over $his shoulder instead. Fix your eyes on the sputtering lights of the empty parking lot. <div class="hero glitch layers" data-text="glitch"><span>“Yeah?"</span></div> $he ask$s, finally. - [[''Yeah.''|13]]

Once more, the silence lingers. The thick, choking cloud of it. $He exhale$s. Look$s at you with an expression that is painfully, embarrassingly genuine. Getting ready to say something you are not ready to hear. - /* [[12aa]] */ <<link "Let $him say it." "12aa">><</link>>

The forest floor had dug into your knees. Stained your sleeves. You don't remember screaming, but you must have. The rest of the search party came running, either way. Saw $him. Saw you on your knees, cradling the lifeless nothingness of $him. /* [[24]] */ <<link "They had to pull you howling from $his corpse." "24">><</link>>

You've seen $him dead. Felt $him dead, under your hands. And you've never been good at lying to yourself the way other people can. And you know that dead things always come back wrong. <<nobr>> <<if $frozen is true>>[[Don't they?|25a]]<</if>> <<if $diner is true>>[[Don't they?|25a]]<</if>> <<if $parkinglot is true>>[[Don't they?|25c]]<</if>> <<if $booth is true>>[[Don't they?|25d]]<</if>> <</nobr>>

<div class="hero glitch layers" data-text="glitch"><span>"I thought of you,"</span></div> $he say$s, quiet. - [[''When?''|12ab]] - [[Don't say anything.|12ac]] <<set $thought to true>>

Your voice breaks on the word. Shatters pathetically. A kind of self-harm, maybe. But there's a cleanness to the pain. $His voice is almost as quiet as yours. <div class="hero glitch layers" data-text="glitch"><span>"When I couldn't remember anything else, I thought of you."</span></div> /* [[12aaa]] */ <<link "You hadn't expected $him to say that." "12aaa">><</link>>

You can't bring yourself to speak. Can only sit and feel the shattering work its way through you, pooling thick in your lungs where the grief lies. Your next exhale is shaky. A wordless entreaty. But $he $is not benevolent enough to spare you the brutality of $his next words. You had not expected $him to be. <div class="hero glitch layers" data-text="glitch"><span>"When I couldn't remember anything else, I thought of you."</span></div> /* [[12aaa]] */ <<link "You hadn't expected $him to say that." "12aaa">><</link>>

The gentle, self-conscious laugh $he give$s does nothing to reduce the mercilessness of $his words. <div class="hero glitch layers" data-text="glitch"><span>"It's funny. I didn't know anything. Couldn't remember my own name."</span></div> <i> - lifeless. $His skin like ice under your hands - </i> <div class="hero glitch layers" data-text="glitch"><span>"But I remembered you. Knew I needed to get back to you."</span></div> Is there something serpentine and calculating, just under $his expression? Something that knows how deeply $hes digging the knife in? [[If there is, you can't see it.|12aab]]

With a gentle hesitance, $he reach$es out again. Telegraphs $his movements, this time, and you are too numb to do anything else but let $him. Let $him touch the backs of $his fingers gently to yours. Untangle your hand from its death grip on the cold <<nobr>> <<if $coffee is "↩coffee">>mug<</if>> <<if $coffee is "↩tea">>teacup<</if>> <<if $coffee is "↩iced tea">>glass<</if>> <<if $coffee is "↩water">>glass<</if>> <<if $coffee is "↩juice">>glass<</if>> <</nobr>>. <div class="hero glitch layers" data-text="glitch"><span>“I missed you,”</span></div> $he say$s. Draws $his thumb over your knuckles like a familiarity. Like it's the most natural thing in the world. And you can't breathe with it. /* [[15]] */ <<link "Might hate $him for it." "15">><</link>>

Your mind is pleasantly blank as you drag your hand upwards, letting yourself trace the curve of $his jaw like a memory relived. $He do$es what you expect $him to. Lean$s into your hand with something gentle and fragile playing at the corners of $his mouth. And the action is so, so familiar. Just like the person you used to love. That you love, still. Holy, in the thin paleness of the flickering diner lights. Holy, with $his long lashes brushing low across $his half-lidded eyes. These moments, stolen. How you've missed them. And all the while $he $is so warm. So alive. [[It's almost enough to make you forget.|22]] <<set $booth to true>> <<set $affection to $affection+1>> <<set $hand to true>>

$He give$s you a fragile smile, and you almost let yourself smile back. It would be familiar. Would be following all the muscle memories that still pull at you like fishhooks. That are still hooked into your skin and bones and tendons. But you can't. Can you? You can't forget. [[That would be a uniquely cruel form of betrayal.|22]] <<set $booth to true>>

Again your body makes the decision for you, all but collapsing the moment you're outside on the cracked asphalt of the parking lot. Hunched over, gasping, trying to get the air back into your lungs. And $hes next to you, careful. Out of the corner of your eye, you see $him reach out, hesitate, and pull $his hand back. <i>Good.</i> If $he $was $himself $he'd leave you alone, you think, and know that you are lying to yourself. Still, it feels like vindication when $he $doesnt. Like you've proven something. <div class="hero glitch layers" data-text="glitch"><span>"I guess you really have been avoiding me."</span></div> Is that vindication in $his tone? Something quietly pleased and sadistic? Are you right in attributing this to $him? [[This quiet, hidden maliciousness.|26c]]

Some awful pressure in your chest now. Making it hard to breathe. Making the world thin and frayed at the edges. And you no longer know whether the suffocation is coming from within or without. And all of it condenses down into something animal and panicked. A need to move. To get away. To get out. <div class="hero glitch layers" data-text="glitch"><span>"I'm sorry,"</span></div> $he say$s. <div class="hero glitch layers" data-text="glitch"><span>"Please, I just want to talk to you."</span></div> [[''I need air,'' you hear yourself say.|26c]]

It is hard to remind yourself of the fact with $him sitting across from you, expression searching and fond and familiar. Another trap, maybe. Another light on the angerfish's lure, that holy glow blinding you to something terrible and predatory and full of teeth. It is always easier to get the prey to come to you, starved and willing. And yet. <i>And yet.</i> What if it isn't? If anything was worth the risk, wouldn't $he be worth the risk? For any slight chance at redemption. To give whatever shade or fragment or echo sat across from you now, gazing into your eyes with barely-hidden desperation as raw as your own, all the apology you owed $him. And if you were wrong, disasterously, harrowingly wrong, what more could you ask for than to die by hands that looked like $hiss? <div class="hero glitch layers" data-text="glitch"><span>“Go on a drive with me? I need- no. I want to show you something."</span></div> As though $he can see the crack in your resolve. [[The first score on the surface of the glass.|26d]]

"What is it?" you say. And your voice doesn't sound like your own. Hollower. Emptier. Like there's an echo, whatever resolve of humanity you once had gone from it. $He lean$s forward, $his eyes fixed on yours with a new kind of determination. Searching.<<if $hand is true>> $His breath fans across your skin as $he raise$s your entwined hands, tracing the lines of your wrist with absent-minded familiarity.<</if>> Searching, and so gently pleading you can't stand it. <div class="hero glitch layers" data-text="glitch"><span>"Do you trust me?"</span></div>$he whisper$s. The unspoken is there. The quiet weight of the question. $Hed only ever asked you that once, before. The first time $he kissed you, soft and sweet and uncertain. It could so easily be a manipulation. - [[You nod.|27da]] - [[You're silent.|27db]]

The lights in the parking lot are just this side of too bright. The kind that seems to pierce two inches under the skin and steal all warmth from colour. A dull headache building behind your eyes. Pinpoint focused point of pain. Maybe it's the sudden change in termperature. At least the cold air clears your head. Maybe. At least you're no longer there, sitting across from $him like you're two teenagers on a date,/* [[27a]] */ <<link " watching $him smile at you." "27a">><</link>>

Something dark flashes through $his expression. Quickly hidden. Heartbreak? Or something far more insidious? - [[''Let's just talk here.''|25b]] - [[Something akin to hate seems to well up within you.|28db]]

$His face lights up with a grin that is bright and wild and wonderful. <div class="hero glitch layers" data-text="glitch"><span>"Thank you,"</span></div> $he say$s. <div class="hero glitch layers" data-text="glitch"><span>"Really. It means... a lot."</span></div> $He push$es $himself up from $his seat, leave$s a few bills on the table, and extends a hand back towards you. It'll drive you mad if you're not careful. The casual intimacy of it all. The domestic little patterns of innocuous touch. - /* [[28da]] */ <<link "Take $his hand." "28da">><</link>>

Warmth, once again. Memory, once again. That ceaseless tide that there is no hiding from anymore. The persistence of water against stone, wearing it away into whatever shape is softest and calmest. $His fingers curl around yours and suddenly you are breathless. With hope? Love? Something altogether more insidious and darker? Is it enough to make you forget the secret you've kept, swaddled in silks and hidden in the back of your wardrobe? [[All that you had left.|27b]]

Another quiet look towards the kitchen and the counter. Something shuttering behind $his eyes. Not enough that it keeps the light of $him from coming through. Not enough that it makes $him no longer human in the washed-out lights. Just a kind of disappointment that makes your chest ache. That still makes your chest ache, despite everything. <div class="hero glitch layers" data-text="glitch"><span>"I don't want to talk here anymore,"</span></div> $he say$s, quiet. $He $is unobtrusive as $he get$s up from the booth, stepping quietly around the chairs and heading for the sliding glass doors. And for a second you think that this might be it. That $he will leave, and take your potential <<cyclinglink "↩redemption" "↩damnation" "↩absolution" "↩endangerment" "↩corruption">> away with $him. But then $he stop$s near the door, and $he look$s back at you, slight incline of $his head inviting, tinged with a flickering kind of hope. Like a candle flame on the edge of going out. - [[What other choice is there but to follow?|26c]] - [[Enough. No more of this.|END1]]

Hate. Hate and distrust. Was it so easy to let go of what you know is the truth? So easy to let yourself forget and believe? A pretty enough smile and a few soft allusions to a rosier past. Is that all it takes for you to betray the reality of $his memory? You're moving before you can even register it, pushing yourself up from the booth with a ferocity you only recognise with a cold kind of distance. You do not let yourself look back at whatever expression is on $his face. You do not let yourself look back at the sounds of $him stumbling out of $his seat to follow you. <div class="hero glitch layers" data-text="glitch"><span>"Please."</span></div> You don't look back. <div class="hero glitch layers" data-text="glitch"><span>"Just talk to me."</span></div> The automatic door slide open, and you're hit with the merciless coldness of the night air. <div class="hero glitch layers" data-text="glitch"><span>"Why won't you just talk to me?"</span></div> /* [[26c]] */ <<link "You hear the exact moment $his tone turns bitter." "26c">><</link>> <<set $hate to true>>

The rest of the night is a blur, fading into the mundanity of the quotidian. Driving home, fog gathering on the windows. The empty space on the other side of your bed. The lingering scent of decay. You think you're starting to get used to it. Tomorrow will bring the same kind of careful avoidance that has been your world these past months. Your eyes will meet $his - <i>hurt? beseeching? predatory?</i> - across streets and crowds. Neither of you will speak. Tomorrow will bring a choice. A chance to reveal a secret held under your tongue and hidden in the back of your wardrobe. One day, you will have to decide whether to reveal that secret. <center>[[↻|1]]</center>

Bone and decay. Evidence in a shoe box. Everything smells like rotting. - [[You want to talk about it. You need to talk about it.|28ba]]

Nothing dead ever comes back the same way. That is one of the fundamental truths of the universe. But what do you know? What has ever come back for you? <i>Except for $him. Except for $him. Here and alive and back for you.</i> ...No. No. Remember. <i>Bone and decay. Evidence in a shoe box. Everything smells like rotting.</i> But can't you take the risk? Can't you ask $him, at least? If only to defeat whatever hope hangs over your neck like the sword of Damocles. <<if $hate is true>>- /* [[30ab]] */ <<link "No, because you <i>loathe</i> $him." "30ab">><</link>><<else>>- /* [[30aa]] */ <<link "Yes. You're so <i>tired</i> of this." "30aa">><</link>> - /* [[30ab]] */ <<link "No, the prey-fear wins over. You can't trust $him." "30ab">><</link>><</if>>

The cold air envelopes you as $he lead$s you through the automatic doors of the diner and towards $his car. "You're dead, Cameron." /* [[29ba]] */ <<link "It's the first time you've said $his name in months." "29ba">><</link>>

$His expression is wrecked as $he look$s back at you. Shattered at the mere sound of your words.. <div class="hero glitch layers" data-text="glitch"><span>"I'm right here, love."</span></div> Slowly, $he tug$s you closer, telegraphing intention, bringing your hand up to $his chest, right over $his heart. $His shirt is too thin for the cold weather, but $he $is warm nevertheless, heat seeping through the fabric. $His heartbeat, under your hand, is slightly fast but steady. A grounding, anchoring rhythm, if you'll let it be one. - [[''That's not what I mean.''|30bb]]

You watch $him, as $he drive$s. Long lashes. Dark. Casting soft shadows over $his cheekbones under the streetlights. $His eyes are fixed on the road, but you can feel the weight of $his attention on you. For the first time since you've returned, it doesn't feel predatory. It doesn't feel like $hes searching for a sign of weakness, a fracture where $he can dig $his teeth in. Instead, it's just comfortable. Familiar. Maybe $he just $doesnt need to anymore. You're here, aren't you? In $his car, by $his side. Trusting that $he $has a reason to take you where you're going now. Foolish, when you know what you know. When you know that $he $is not $him. Could not be $him in any way that makes sense. When you know that nothing ever comes back from the dead the right way and there is no such thing as a perfect miracle. $He still $doesnt look at you as $he pull$s over where the wilderness begins to enroach on the town, turning off the ignition. - [[''Why did you bring me here?''|31ba]]

Caution, in $his eyes. Fear, maybe, if you want to be cruel about it. You don't. "Your corpse," you whisper. And when had it become $hiss again? When had the evidence of who $he $was not become something else of $hiss? <i>The flesh long liquefied but corpse not yet reduced entirely to bone. Putrescine and cadaverine. You’d pressed your hands to the chest and felt the hollows of the ribs underneath the ruined black formalwear.</i> You feel $him trembling under your palm, where your hand is once again pressed to $his chest. But this time $he $is whole. Alive. <div class="hero glitch layers" data-text="glitch"><span>"Can we talk about this somewhere else?"</span></div> $he whisper$s. <div class="hero glitch layers" data-text="glitch"><span>"Please?"</span></div> - [[''Okay.''|30ba]] - [[''...No.''|30aab]]

...No. Your next words are venomous. Low hiss rattling in your throat. "You're not $him. Damn you. You're not $him." $He start$s, eyebrows drawing up into that familiar knot. <div class="hero glitch layers" data-text="glitch"><span>"Not $him?"</span></div> - [[''Not... you. Goddamn it. You can't lie to me. Not about this.''|31ab]] - /* [[END1connect]] */ <<link "No. you're leaving. You're not playing $his fucking game." "END1connect">><</link>>

Why is it so hard to speak? Why does the scent of death cling to you – somehow stronger now in the cool breeze of the night air? $He take$s a step closer, reaching a hand out tentatively and resting it on your shoulder. When you don’t pull away, $he tighten$s $his grip, steadying you now. <div class="hero glitch layers" data-text="glitch"><span>"Are you feeling ok? I can—"</span></div> “Fuck off.” $Hes the one to pull away this time, and a new savage pleasure rushes through you at the sight of it, even as $his absence unbalances you, forces you to take an embarrassingly shaky step backwards to steady yourself. Suddenly shaking now. Trembling uncontrollably, [[madly giddy.|32ab]]

“Dead things never come back right,” you tell $him. $He stutter$s a confused syllable, processing. And just for one moment – the light from the dirty diner windows catching at just the right angle – you think you see something else in $his face. Something cold and scaly twisting briefly behind $his eyes before $he recover$s. You watch $him decide on the right expression. A soft flash of concern melting into innocent confusion, settling finally on something gently reproachful. Hurt. <div class="hero glitch layers" data-text="glitch"><span>"You’re acting like this because of a cliché?"</span></div> You laugh. you can’t stop it. Straightening to look $him in the eyes, you push aside the dizziness blurring your vision to examine $him closely. Making $him watch you watch $him. “If I was?” $He inhales. A quick pained breath. And you can see how easy it would be for $him to turn the question back on you. $He $was the one who was pronounced dead, after all. Who had to dig $his way out of $his own grave, disoriented and hurting, to spend two months struggling with god knows what to make $his way back. Only to find you and your cold, unreasonable cruelty. After all that. <i>After all that, after coming back to you. The way you’d hoped for, bordering on prayer. [[Only three months ago you would have done anything to have this again and now—|33ab]]</i>

Doubting. It would be so easy to believe, to let $him draw you in with $his warmth and $his aliveness. The desire to capitulate crawls up your throat and drowns you alive. But this isn’t $him. Something you need to remember. A change. $His knuckles whitening briefly when you meet $his silence with your own. Good. You need $him to be angry. You need $him to be angry in a way that you can respond to, that you can cling to with tooth and nail. Anything but softness. <div class="hero glitch layers" data-text="glitch"><span>"Then I would say you’re looking for a reason,"</span></div> $he say$s, with a stillness that betrayed $his anger completely, <div class="hero glitch layers" data-text="glitch"><span>"that you, I don’t know. I don’t know—"</span></div> The stillness shattering now. $He twist$s away from you, wringing $his hands in $his hair with a pained noise low in $his throat. And what it does to you is visceral, regret sinking needle-like claws into your heart. No. Remember. Remember the cold. Damp wood crumbling into dusty splinters. The scent of rot rising like a dense, choking cloud. [[Smothering your entire world.|34ab]]

<div class="hero glitch layers" data-text="glitch"><span>"You can tell me, "</span></div>$he say$s. <div class="hero glitch layers" data-text="glitch"><span>"If you just don’t want me anymore. If you’re just looking for a fucking reason—"</span></div> <<if $he is "they">>They've<<else>>$Hes<</if>> got the distress down perfectly. The way $his breath comes in staccato, the tight knot of $his brows and the way $he won’t quite meet your eyes. And oh, you are cruel. You are horrible, pushing this act of discomfort as far as you can, waiting for the crack in the façade. Everything now a testament against everything that has been. Every time it had meant something, where you’d tried to comfort $him and $hed smiled up at you in that way $he had. Unnecessary gratitude at the smallest of kindnesses. So $himself in this display of pain— Nausea, again. Now that the anger has bled away into a raw kind of hurt. It’s not there – what you were expecting. The calculation in the emotion, the sly glances to see how $his act is received. None of it is there. And all that’s left is $him, hurting and confused and looking away from you, still looking away from you. You say it before you have a chance to think it through. - [[''Stop it.''|35ab]]

$He still $doesnt look at you. “Stop it!” A step forward. Shaking. And all of a sudden you're close to collapse. “I know!” <i>Rot, rot, rot. Something soft had writhed under your fingers and you'd pulled back with a scream caught in your throat. Decay, everywhere.</i> Decay filling your senses. Still. Another step forward. You watch yourself reach out to grab hard at $his collar, pulling the fabric taut against $his throat. $He starts at the sudden pressure, jerking back hard enough that you're thrown off balance. A moment of weightlessness. Falling. You don’t let go. Will drag $him to the fucking ground with you if it’s the last thing you do. And— And $he catch$es you. And $his arms are steady, warm, and it’s unfair. It’s unfair that $he, dead thing walking, $is so warm and alive while you're frozen to the core and trembling so hard your teeth click against each other, even in the overwhelming heat of $his arms. Again. That need again. To press your face into the crook of $his shoulder and let the world wash away into nothing but $him. To cry, for the first time since $his death. Finally, to cry. - [[Give in.|36aba]] - [[No. No. You have to remember.|36ab]]

Resurrection, like $him, feeling rising from where it had once been buried. Or maybe, then, not quite like $him. “I know! I saw! You’re not $him!” It’s not the kind of confrontation you imagined having. Your voice rises to something shrill and desperate and pathetic and you can see that $he still $doesnt quite understand. Stumbling back. Forcing your fingers to loosen from $his collar. Still trembling. Your next breath catches in your throat and rattles with something almost like a sob. Couldn’t cry, when they'd confirmed what you'd already known. Couldn’t cry when you planned $his funeral. Couldn’t cry when you finally broke through the wood with that shovel and the scent of death filled the air as if in a great cascade. [[Won’t cry now. Not like this.|37ab]]

The way $he holds you is painfully familiar. And isn't that just the worst of it? That whatever you know, logically, doesn't change how the person before you is like $him in every single way. But you know where $he $is. The real $him. You were there. Digging $him up. Dragging yourself through the mud, clawing your way out of $his grave. Sad little bundle wrapped in layers of linen. Too heavy and too light at once and somehow insubstantial in your arms. Smelling of rot. Always smelling of rot. It never leaves you now, caught in the back of your throat. [[Which of you is the dead thing?|END2]]

“They say you crawled out of your own grave,” you say. And suddenly, the change you’ve been waiting for. You watch the realisation come over $his face. “You said you don’t remember waking up. You don’t remember getting back, either? Nothing, two months of it, gone?”<<if $thought is true>> Then, something cruel. "Just me? You only remembered me? Surely you know how much that sounds like a lie." Like a manipulation, and even now it feels strange to associate the word with $him.<</if>> $He $doesnt answer for a long while. Still again. Barely breathing. Watching you with wide, reproachful eyes. <div class="hero glitch layers" data-text="glitch"><span>“You went to check,” </span></div> $he say$s. <i>The flesh long liquefied but corpse not yet reduced entirely to bone. Putrescine and cadaverine. You’d pressed your hands to the chest and felt the hollows of the ribs underneath the ruined black formalwear.</i> A sharp, angry breath breaking through. Anger sweeping over $his features. For a moment $he look$s feral, ruined, cold. So cold it freezes you to the core. [[Finally.|38ab]]

When a dead thing comes back to life, and its body is not where it is supposed to be, the story is easy. And when you know – when you’ve done - something fragile and cataclysmic— It’s $him that steps forward this time, $his hands strangling the air in front of $him. $His hands on your skin. Everything’s broken, now. Shattered beyond repair. And it’s now that you miss it, of course. Miss $him. Would let $him strangle you if it meant— "Where's your corpse, Cameron?" It's the first time you've said $his name in months. <div class="hero glitch layers" data-text="glitch"><span>"My—" </span></div> $he say$s. A frozen syllable. You laugh, giddy. Take a step forward in turn until you’re almost chest to chest, /* [[39ab]] */ <<link "$his breath melting into yours." "39ab">><</link>>

$His expression crumbles. Shatters. And the shards of it are suddenly sharp enough to cut. Anger. Finally. And there is something animalistic and pleased in you at this, $his mouth contorted to a thing of cruelty. The satisfaction of pushing until something breaks, until the veneer falls away and the predator bites down. No more waiting. At last. <div class="hero glitch layers" data-text="glitch"><span>"You dug up my corpse."</span></div> <i>Had dragged yourself through the mud, clawed your way out of $his grave. Sad little bundle wrapped in layers of linen. Too heavy and too light at once and somehow insubstantial in your arms. Smelling of rot. Always smelling of rot.</i> It never leaves you now, caught in the back of your throat. [[Which of you is the dead thing?|40ab]]

But what can you do now? With this person who is and is not $him. Who is still holding you, silent and still, creating a new type of limbo - new type of hell - inside the loose circle of $his arms. You can't let $him go. How could you? When $he hold$s you the same way. When you can finally cry again. But you can't tell $him the truth, either. Can't trust that that's not the only thing $hes here for. Whatever evidence still remains of $his wrongness. Inhumanity. Can't trust that $he won't turn on you. Predatory thing set to attack, watching you with clever, deceitful eyes. You are there for a long time. A kind of surrender. The moment on a rooftop when you let gravity take over. There is nowhere to go. There has never been anywhere else to go. <center>[[↻|1]]</center>

"You're dead, Cameron." /* [[31aa]] */ <<link "It's the first time you've said $his name in months." "31aa">><</link>>

<div class="hero glitch layers" data-text="glitch"><span>"I'm not, I'm right here."</span></div> A half-step closer. $His eyes are wide and guileless. Where was it? That strange, alien distance you'd glimpsed before. That you're sure you've glimpsed before. Veritable proof of what you know. That nothing comes back the same. That- <i>Dragging yourself through the mud, clawing your way out of $his grave. Sad little bundle wrapped in layers of linen. Too heavy and too light at once and somehow insubstantial in your arms. Smelling of rot. Always smelling of rot.</i> [[That miracles don't just happen.|32aa]]

"Yes." It is more the shape of the word than the sound as you say it. "Makes it harder to believe you survived being buried alive, huh?" Your words. Cold as the wind billowing around you. Cold as $he had been when you'd found $him, and as $his body had been, when you'd finally dug $him up. <div class="hero glitch layers" data-text="glitch"><span>"I don't know what you want."</span></div> - [[''The truth.''|41ab1]] - [[''An apology.''|41ab2]] - [[''Absolution.''|41ab3]] - [[''Nothing.''|41ab4]]

<div class="hero glitch layers" data-text="glitch"><span>"That I'm not the person you loved?"</span></div> "Yes." You hadn't wanted to sound so <<cyclinglink "↩desperate" "↩angry" "↩broken" "↩numb">>. $He splay$s $his hands, [[helpless.|42ab1]]

<div class="hero glitch layers" data-text="glitch"><span>"For what?"</span></div> "For trying to trick me." For dangling hope in front of you even as you knew it was false. For making you <i>want</i> to believe that it's true. <i>Want</i>to betray $his memory. $He splay$s $his hands, [[helpless.|42ab1]]

<div class="hero glitch layers" data-text="glitch"><span>"For what?"</span></div> "For letting you die." You hadn't wanted to sound so <<cyclinglink "↩desperate" "↩angry" "↩broken" "↩numb">> $He splay$s $his hands, [[helpless.|42ab3]]

For a long time, neither of you speak. You flinch when $he finally breaks the silence. <div class="hero glitch layers" data-text="glitch"><span>"What are we doing here, then?"</span></div> - [[''You're right. This was pointless.''|42abconnect]] - [[You shrug, helpless.|42ab4]]

It is an ending, of sorts. Too much left unsaid. Too many things left unaddressed. But isn't that the nature of endings, sometimes? You leave $him there, standing alone in the empty parking lot, suddenly looking so vulnerable and so inhuman at the same time under the harsh lights. And you know, with a sudden, painful clarity, that you will remember it for the rest of your life. But it wasn't a second chance, you remind yourself. It is a deception. [[A wrongness.|END1]]

Making yourself take a step back, and then another, shaking like a leaf in the wind the whole time. $His gaze is uncomprehending, but $he $doesnt move. Makes no attempt to stop you. You will remember it for the rest of your life, you think. What $he looked like, under those harsh lights, watching you leave. Suddenly so vulnerable and so inhuman at once. It wasn't a second chance, you remind yourself. It is a deception. [[A wrongness.|END1]]

What $he say$s is not an answer to your question. <div class="hero glitch layers" data-text="glitch"><span>"Do you think I'm who I say I am?"</span></div> - [[''Yes.''|32ba]] - [[''No.''|32bb]] - [[''I don't know.''|32bc]]

"You're dead," you say again. [[Merciless.|31aa]] <<set $close to true>>

It bursts from you like a dam shattering. Like the last irreversible step into white water. And $he $doesnt look at you, barely acknowledge$s the words you say, but you hear $his breath catch, tremble with that peculiar unsteadiness of someone on the verge of tears. To you, the sound is as loud as shattering. $He look$s too fragile, removed from the harsh artificial lights. Ghost-like. A spectre, lingering in the places $he used to inhabit. And you're seized by a sudden, irrational worry that $he would disappear if you broke the silence. If you moved. If you stopped holding your breath. You'd been having the opposite problem this entire night. All these past months. $He $has been too present. Inescapable. Taking up all the space and oxygen. And now, suddenly- Somehow it's almost easier, when $he $is less real. [[Maybe ghosts are easier to believe than resurrections.|33ba]]

$He turn$s to look at you. And there is no blame in $his eyes. No anger. Nothing but a quiet, resigned acceptance. <div class="hero glitch layers" data-text="glitch"><span>"Why would you?"</span></div> $His hands splayed out before $him, helpless. You swallow back the urge to wrap those fingers in yours and it feels like broken glass in your throat. <div class="hero glitch layers" data-text="glitch"><span>"Sometimes, I don't even believe myself."</span></div> You can hear the unsteadiness in $his voice. The way a breath catches when someone's trying not to cry. Barely perceptible. $Hes always been good at hiding it, but maybe that's why you've gotten so good at noticing it. You know $him so well - <i>knew</i> $him so well. But this is not $him. [[It can't be.|33bb]] <<set $carno to true>>

$He nods. A quiet, subdued thing. <div class="hero glitch layers" data-text="glitch"><span>"Me neither."</span></div> $He says it fast. Quiet. Sincere. The weight in your chest is a physical pain and you suddenly find that you can't bear to keep looking at $him. Have to turn your eyes away. Maybe $he feel$s the same way, because $his next exhale is a sharp, hurt thing as $he curl$s in on $himself, head buried into $his hands. <div class="hero glitch layers" data-text="glitch"><span>"How can I blame you for not believing me when I don't even know if I'm lying to you?"</span></div> - /* [[33bc]] */ <<link "You reach out for $him." "33bc">><</link>> - [[You can't seem to move. Deer in the headlights.|33bcc]]

<div class="hero glitch layers" data-text="glitch"><span>"What makes you think I know more than you do?"</span></div> No. No. You cannot fall prey to this. You cannot afford the vulnerability that comes with trust, not when you've seen that predatory glint in $his eyes. Something alien. Strange. Serpentine. You laugh again. Humourless sound punched out from you. "Don't fucking try to trick me." <div class="hero glitch layers" data-text="glitch"><span>"I'm <i>not</i>."</span></div> Rage and desperation running through you with all the devastation of a flood. Knocking all reason and all logic askew. [[The warmth on your cheeks are tears you hadn't meant to shed.|43ab]]

<div class="hero glitch layers" data-text="glitch"><span>"I don't blame you for it. I never have."</span></div> An awful, animal howl. So inhuman you don't realise at first that the sound was torn from your throat. "I don't want it from <i>you</i>." Only want it from one person. But $hes gone now. Gone forever. And you will never be absolved for $his death. Will carry this with you forever. Rage and desperation running through you with all the devastation of a flood. Knocking all reason and all logic askew. [[The warmth on your cheeks are tears you hadn't meant to shed.|43ab]]

<div class="hero glitch layers" data-text="glitch"><span>"Why?"</span></div> "What?" <div class="hero glitch layers" data-text="glitch"><span>"Why would you believe me? Sometimes I barely believe myself."</span></div> Vulnerable, shaking thing lined in silver by the moonlight. It breaks your heart. - /* [[33bc]] */ <<link "You reach out for $him." "33bc">><</link>>

$He speak$s again after a long, long moment. Gathering $himself, lashes damp with unshed tears. The vulnerability is hard to bear. It is harder and harder to dismiss $his fragility as manipulation. Not when the pain is so visceral. <div class="hero glitch layers" data-text="glitch"><span>"I woke up near here,"</span></div> $he whisper$s, finally. - [[''What?''|34ba]]

You can't help it. $His shoulder is warm under your palm, and $he startle$s at your touch, looking up at you with something in $his eyes that you cannot parse. Cannot understand. Your other hand moves on its own. Cups $his face. <i>Familiar. Familiar. Familiar. The skull in your hands is somehow a shape that you know. The yellowed bone and rictus grin betraying the truth. What you'd known since $he arrived back at town, feverish and shaking. That $he $was still there. Buried. That the other body could not be $his. That the hands you used to reach out for, the body you used to curl into drowsy and warm with sleep, the face you knew the shape of so intimately- Buried. Decayed. Lost to you forever.</i> There's a dampness to $his eyes that $he $hasnt entirely managed to blink away, tears darkening $his long lashes as $he look$s up at you. As though for salvation. As though for an answer. But you don't have that for $him. - /* [[34bb]] */ <<link "You kiss $him." "34bb">><</link>>

You can do nothing but watch $him. Watch $him curling into $himself. Shaky breaths. Like $hes trying not to cry. [[It breaks your heart.|33bb]]

$He gasp$s at the first press of your lips against $his. Kiss$es you the way $he used to, though a new desperation underscores $his movements as $he pull$s you closer, fingers tangled into your collar, leaning into you like someone drowning. Warm. Alive. Wonderful. When you pull back for a breath that sounds alarmingly like a sob, $he press$es $his head into the crook of your neck, breath fanning across your skin, hand tangled in your collar. <div class="hero glitch layers" data-text="glitch"><span>"I thought I'd remember something, with you here."</span></div> "What do you mean?" Your hand cards through $his hair absent-mindedly. Muscle memory. It soothes something deep inside you. [[Some open wound that has been festering all this time.|35bb]]

The anger feels good. It feels clean. And maybe $he feel$s the same way, manic, humourless grin crawling across $his face, teeth bared in a pained snarl. You're confusing $him, maybe. Your sudden flashes of anger and desperation and grief. Whatever the reason, right now, $he resemble$s nothing so much as an animal with its foot in a trap. Carnivor catching the scent of its own blood on the wind. <div class="hero glitch layers" data-text="glitch"><span>"This has always been your problem, hasn't it?"</span></div> "What?" Your tone matches $his. Raw feral sound. <div class="hero glitch layers" data-text="glitch"><span>"Always doubting. Always so fucking insecure. Incapable of believing anything good can happen."</span></div> <i>A flash of memory. $His hand cupping the curve of your jaw. $Hes close, painfully so. You can feel $his breath on your skin when $he speak$s. "Maybe we can let ourselves have something good." You don't reply. Can't bring yourself to, your heart in your throat. </i> It breaks you. DEMO END

$He shrug$s. A laughable attempt at nonchalance. <div class="hero glitch layers" data-text="glitch"><span>"I woke up here,"</span></div> DEMO END

<div class="hero glitch layers" data-text="glitch"><span>"I woke up not far from here,"</span></div> $he tell$s you. And the hush of $his voice transforms the cramped little space into something confessional. "After..." You can't bring yourself to finish the sentence, but $he $does it for you. Breathe$s it into the space between you. <div class="hero glitch layers" data-text="glitch"><span>"After I died."</span></div> You wonder if $he can feel the sudden tension in your body. The way your hand stills in $his hair. Probably. But $he $doesnt address it. <<if $he is $they>>Don't<<else>>Doesn't<</if>> look up from where $his forehead is still pressed against the edge of your jaw. <div class="hero glitch layers" data-text="glitch"><span>"I don't remember anything between leaving work that day and waking up here. And it-"</span></div> $He raise$s $his head to meet your eyes again with that desperate, searching look, hands clammy as $he reach$es up to cradle your face. <div class="hero glitch layers" data-text="glitch"><span>"It was so empty. No footprints in the mud. No path through the bush where I could have come through. I don't know how I could've gotten there. I still don't."</span></div> /* [[36bb]] */ <<link "$Hes shaking." "36bb">><</link>>

<<if $thought is true>><div class="hero glitch layers" data-text="glitch"><span>"But I wasn't lying,"</span></div> $he say$s, <div class="hero glitch layers" data-text="glitch"><span>"when I told you that you were the only thing I could remember."</span></div><<else>><div class="hero glitch layers" data-text="glitch"><span>"You were the only thing I could remember,"</span></div> $he whisper$s.<</if>> Not that different from the story $hes been telling. But more uncertain. Without the claims of near-memory. The certainty that $he $is who $he say$s $he $is. The little displays of thankfulness for whatever power has allowed $him to dig $his way from $his own grave. Vulnerability. You are too far gone to doubt it. Drawn inexorably toward $him. <div class="hero glitch layers" data-text="glitch"><span>"I feel like $him,"</span></div> $he continue$s, <div class="hero glitch layers" data-text="glitch"><span>"but I don't know if that's enough."</span></div> "I dug you up," you say. Maybe you'd expected $him to look confused. Maybe appalled. The look of quiet acceptance that comes over $his face instead makes some [[unspeakable, complicated ache swell in your chest.|37bb]]

DEMO END

$He pull$s away a little. Not far. And the brief panic in your chest is softened by the way $he drop$s $his hand to yours, entwining your fingers desperately. <div class="hero glitch layers" data-text="glitch"><span>"It's harder to believe in good things, isn't it?"</span></div> You know what $he mean$s. Harder to believe in miracles than tragedies. Hope is a difficult, painful thing. Easier to expect a trap around every corner. A hidden, predatory intention behind every smile. <i>A flash of memory. $His hand cupping the curve of your jaw. $Hes close, painfully so. You can feel $his breath on your skin when $he speak$s. "Maybe we can let ourselves have something good." You don't reply. Can't bring yourself to, your heart in your throat. </i> [DEMO END]

DEMO END