Re: Island: Janus/Atticus
Gasped. Had never experienced a screaming pain that was there, then gone, in the span of a moment. Fisted his hand. Opened it. Fisted it again. Tested it for burns, for blisters, for something lingering. Was strangely discomfiting in a disassociated way. If something could hurt that badly and do no harm, then what was real? Wasn't expecting to have some existential crisis over a burned-not-burned hand of all things.
Forced himself to lower his arm.
Exhaled hard once he did, and it wasn't because of the pain that wasn't there anymore. Was because of the library. Felt real. The grittiness made it seem more tangible. The actual library was never dusty. Was meticulously looked after, but dust was something his mind associated with reality. Stood. Watched the people. Was as interested in the people as he was in the structure and the books. Wanted to just find something he hadn't read, to sit in a comfortable chair. To read somewhere there was the illusion of walking outside when he was done.
Took him a second to realize Janus wasn't Janus. Wasn't any Janus he knew. Saw the Army regalia. Assumed this was the soldier older Janus had told him about, the kid Steve and old-him hadn't been able to unsee. "Still you?" he asked, not sure how it worked, and then looking around himself again. He laughed nervously. Giddily. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm OK. Fuck, yeah." And, earnestly. "Thanks."