If Adrian had truly forgotten what he'd done, he might have taken it in stride. He was so used to forgetting things, after all. Remembering them all was going to take a lot of adjustment.
Misha had taken him back to the moment before he tried, however, and he was back to knowing nothing but the fresh flush of complete thought, the expanse of emotion suddenly available to him. He was combing his recent memory for the thing he might imagine (the same thing came to him, with just as little thought) when Misha pulled him up short.
He looked a little more closely. Misha was different. When had that happened? He looked at the wings and took a short step sideways, to get a better look. "They're beautiful," he said. This was a place of thoughts made real. It was too immediate for him to think of saying anything more. Trying to explain what made them beautiful was pointless. They were as beautiful as anything he'd ever seen. At the same time, he said, "Oh," and felt stupid, as if he should have made the connection all along.
He nodded when Misha asked him to hold the obscurus in, but said nothing. He had a lifetime of experience with holding the nightmare in, but could he still?
He imagined exactly the same thing on the bed, now the bed at the old B&B. Misha had caught him before he changed the scene, so it had lingered there, and the setting made the betrayal playing out in front of him all the more potent.
He still wanted to crawl out of his skin, watching it. He still wanted to turn away. He made himself look at it, at the deeply intimate press of lips to collarbone, of soft mouths and warm skin.
The impulse to shout overtook him, rising in his throat like gorge, and the bedspread over the lovers was torn off by an invisible hand, fluttering back. The imaginary people took no notice, and Adrian balled his hands into scarred fists, crossing them over his body, tucking them under each arm.
No blackness wisped from his skin, though, and there was no unearthly shriek. There was no white pall across his eyes. There was a little of that heavy feeling in the air, but Adrian tucked his hands against his shaking body a little tighter, and squeezed his eyes briefly shut, and it sucked from the air like smoke through an open window.
He breathed for a moment, and he willed the people on the bed to go away. Jealousy, hate, and shame warred for purchase on the slick red walls of his heart. He opened his eyes, and he looked at Misha, raw, nervous, wetness at the corners of his eyes.