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#i’m really tired and projecting shdbsjdb
one-black-coffeee · 3 years
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alright i feel like absolute hell so: Neil with a dissociative disorder
the first time he noticed it, he was standing in front of a mirror
the reflection staring back wasn’t his father. his father was angrier, a bitter look of disgust and pure, cruel enjoyment permanently carved onto his face
but the reflection wasn’t Neil either. red hair, blue eyes, scars distorting the flesh— all of it there. undeniably Neil Josten.
but it wasn’t. he couldn’t see anything in those eyes. the skin looked plastic, cut into by a mischievous child and discarded. a figurine no one wanted
a face he should have known but couldn’t manage to place
the world was blurred, unfocused and set too far away. like a poorly designed video game. Neil couldn’t tell if the world was too far away or if he was
then it was memory
thousands of questions he’d heard before but never answered. the truth remained hidden beneath is tongue for no one but those who already knew
but suddenly the truth was hard to find. slippery and beaten down. whatever he could capture felt fuzzy, uncertain. it felt wrong
scars that had their own memories attached, thousands and thousands of painful films etched across his body were someone else’s
it felt rude to pry out the story behind a body that wasn’t his
his breathing was painful, heart hammering inside his chest, eyes wandering around the world without looking at a single thing. everything felt false, cloaked in a deceptive screen
voices and words and thoughts screamed and screamed until it was all he could hear. all he could do to stay standing was let it happen. hold himself as still as possible until it was over
he ignored it
ignored the way his palms burned after every episode. ignored how nauseous and exhausted he felt. ignored the lapses in his memory and the looks Andrew have him each time his memory faltered
no more running
but was it really running if all he was doing was letting it all wash over him?
Andrew seemed to think so
no pushing, no prying. causation and thinly veiled concern was all he offered. a hand on Neil’s sleeve, one on the back of his neck pulling him closer and closer
“I don’t know what’s happening”
“I know”
Andrew was always the center point, the immovable force keeping Neil orbiting around him. the only thing that kept him from hurtling off into the vastness of space, unable to slow himself
when his eyesight swam and everything turned into a mush grays, Neil closed his eyes and let Andrew guide him
when his memory blanked and all he knew was sharpened blades, fires, and icy blue, Andrew filled in the rest of the pieces
when the skin on his palms itched and stung, unable to find reality unless it was held in his hands, Andrew pulled them to rest on his shoulders, giving Neil as much reality as he could handle
repeated facts whispered right to him. a history taped back together after being shattered again and again and handed to Neil to turn over and inspect as he pleased until it fit again
Andrew tugging him down with biting hands that never left more than a grounding mark on Neil
it all came back eventually. it would fit back into place and his vision would clear. he would be shoved back to the front, back to looking at his family and smiling because the memories were all there. it didn’t always take long
and eventually there were the cats. denying him the ability to slip into a plastic reality because their dishes were empty and they would scream until they received food. grounding.
and Andrew was always there
in person or not
the same words. the same reminders. a script that tugged Neil back into his body each time
and when the exhaustion and confusion settled into his bones, Andrew was still there. still answering Neil and holding him still
“i can’t remember”
“i know, love”
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