Re: quicklog: adrian/newt - the lake
[Adrian smiled a little when Newt took his hand, suffused with the same strange, tingling pleasure from interlaced fingers that he had been when they were young. He was old enough not to feel that same, strong crush, but it was electric still, different from being touched by anyone else. He'd been with men since he and Newt lost contact, even felt strongly for some. He didn't remember holding hands in many of those relationships - and he didn't remember this rush of feeling from such a simple gesture of intimacy.
He knew those twitching fingers, and he did nothing more than squeeze Newt's hand, once. He knew them as well as he knew Newt's bitten fingernails or his lack of eye contact. He hadn't, for instance, suggested Newt sit across from him.
It was strange that he knew his own family less well than he knew Newt. He'd been so young when he separated from them, and in Europe, breaking cleanly from the past, his adoptive mother had brooked no questions of reaching out to 'friends' back in Repose. He was to leave that life behind him, and never, ever go back, not under any circumstances. Meeting them again had been pleasing and strange, and he still wasn't quite sure where he stood with them. Something was wrong with Connie, but she was disinterested in talking to him about it so far. He ought to try to see her at work, where it would be harder to disconnect. Perhaps she would say more about her troubles in person than she was willing to in text.
His mind wandered a little as he sat with his hand clasped in Newt's, looking out at the lake rather than turning toward Newt as he spoke, an unconscious gesture to make him more comfortable. He didn't glance over until he caught the thread of something awkward in his tone. I wanted to talk with you could mean many different things. Between two people, they rarely meant anything good.
He certainly wasn't expecting Newt to talk about his sleepwalking. It was a troubling problem, yes, but he'd never gotten behind the wheel of a car or attempted to hurt anyone. Even back in Europe, he had only ever found himself in some public place, or asleep in a chair in his own rooms, fully dressed. The only really troubling thing about it was the lack of restful sleep and the bruises that sometimes turned up, but falls or collisions while sleepwalking seemed to explain those away. Or they filled the gap of explanation, anyway, for something Adrian could not explain, for something that filled him with dread every time he examined it too closely. He wanted to keep living his life, and leave anything troubling to the side. He never questioned the fact that he always seemed to be too busy for a sleep study, or to seriously pursue medication.
He looked at Newt as he explained, first blank, then puzzled.] Two...consciousnesses? [He paused, and he looked out at the lake.] He? [He took a long breath, and he turned the idea around in his mind. It was like looking at a box he couldn't find the latch for - smooth, seamless, its mechanism unknowable, its contents a mystery. He struggled to get a grip on the idea, and it slipped repeatedly through his fingers.] Do I...did I talk to you? When I was sleepwalking? [He looked back at Newt, piercing, fully focused on whatever it was that he couldn't grasp, here.] People do that, don't they? I've read about it. They can have full conversations without being awake, and not remember them.