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it feels like floating.
it feels like a cool breeze on a hot summer's day.
he can feel the way it washes through his hair and envelopes his scalp in refreshing cold between each heated strand of hair. the way it nests behind his eyes and seeps into every corner of his body beneath his flushed skin.
confusion only lasts for a few seconds, maybe a little bit longer, before he’s gently set into a thick fog that slows his heartbeat to a relaxing tempo, one he wouldn’t have been able to accomplish had the fog not taken hold of him.
he takes his time. he’s in no rush, there’s nothing else he needs to do today and besides touching soggy remnants of food, he enjoys washing the dishes. cleaning in general is quite entertaining when he isn’t in a rush or accompanied by others, who by now have realized that if they just leave karl be he will happily do most of the cleaning. he doesn’t even need to have music playing in the background- the chirping crickets, croaking toads and the distant barking of someone’s dog is enough noise for him.
finally, he’s finished. he sets the dishes into the drying rack, dries his hands and drains the sink. on his way to the dimly lit living room he grabs a simple book- something to keep him busy until sapnap and alex come home. the texture of the pages on his fingers feel new, crisp and clean. he removes his bookmark carefully- something to quietly chew on or fidget with while he reads- and dives into the pages.
…..what had he been doing before this?
the question isn't upsetting enough to make him want to put his book down. it isn't as if he doesn't ask himself that question fairly often on an every-other-day basis. often times karl will be taking a shower, or tending to their garden, or even eating dinner with his fiancé's when he asks himself what in the world he had been doing in the hours that led up to it.
dinner…..
has he even done the dishes??
“ shit, i didn't.” he whispers to himself, marking his page and setting the book on the coffee table as he gets to his feet with a sigh. just as he was getting to a good argument in the story, too.
he swears he did them. the dishes. he wouldn't have gone to the living room to wait for his fiancé’s if he hadn't, but the more he thinks about it the more foggy his head feels. had it been a dream? sometimes he does dream about things that are so normal it feels like he’s awake. sapnap does it too- so does alex. it isn't abnormal if they do it, too.
so he walks into his kitchen, which seems much more blurry and glittery than before, and takes a few steps closer to the counter when he sees the sink is full of dirty dishes.
“ but i just did them….?”
why does his head feel so hollow?
he walks to the countertop but stops and holds his breath. the sink has moved a solid foot to the right. wasnt it always- but that’s where the coffee maker is…
“ what the fuck?”
his walk is quicker and he stops infront of the glaring sink to grab onto its edges and think. how had it moved?!
“ wasnt it always-”
there! always a foot to the left where it should always be, not a foot to the right where he sees it now. how had the dishes moved, too?! he did them! he sees his own hand move to touch the faucet, thinks that he may as well get the job done since he’s here, that maybe he’s just tired and that it’s why he feels this way, but the hand he sees suddenly isn't his. those aren't his fingers, his nails, that isn't his skin and that’s not his arm. he doesn't recognize them.
suddenly he is much too aware of what he is made out of.
muscles and flesh and blood and bone all compiled into a shaped body that is scarred and soft and sharp-angled but none of it is his, he thinks, so he feels up his chest with distaste.
whose body is this?
if he were still able to speak he would have said something to see if it was still his voice he would hear, but confusion and the fear of breaking the silence keeps his mouth shut tight. with his back now facing the sink he looks out to the kitchen, which seems much larger than he remembers it, and squints at how blurry everything is. light reflects off of every corner of every object and if he weren't steadily descending into a state of panic he might have found the view quite ethereal. colors morph into soft, milky shades of sleep that karl would have found lovely in any normal circumstance (as normal as it could get, of course).
karl groans into his closed mouth, feels the sound die at the base of his throat, and brings up two of the strange hands to the face that isn't his. it's like sharing a body with someone, watching them control everything, watching a movie, while he just sits in the same eyes as them to spectate.
static follows him when he closes his eyes. when he runs the palms of the hands over them and rubs at his temples. when he opens them again, with the hands dropped to his side, static remains. the visual snow grows louder, more violent than usual, and-
he thinks he hears someone in the living room. he turns around, his body facing the sink, and when he looks down at it he sees that it is empty again.
“ where-?”
-did they go?
how much time has passed?
he looks down at the clothes on the body and frowns. was he wearing this the last few times he checked, or was he wearing something different? that would have been a good way to see if time has passed or not. but he doesn't have anything to anchor him to the present so karl drifts stupidly in a flurry of questions and fear and-
“ what fucking time is it?”
he looks outside and sees the sun is still setting. it feels like it has been hours since he left….
where was he before this?
karl turns around and leans against the countertop beside the stove.
who was he waiting for?
why is he so worked up?
where is he?
home.
he thinks this is home.
but it doesn't feel real and if it doesn't feel real then it means he doesn't belong here. if he doesn't belong here, he should go. he doesn't know where to go, though. this is the only place he has.
“ what the fuck is happening…”
the situation seems quite serious. he knows that. but he feels so calm and that adds to his panic, panic that lands him a spot on the floor with his back against the floor-level cabinets, with his head in his hands and his eyes wide to stare at his knees. he feels sick. he feels like he’s going to fucking throw up. staring at his knees and trying not to cry for some reason is the only thing keeping him from vomiting all over the floor.
is this happening now or is he remembering this?
how would he know? what if he never wakes up?
karl is shaking so violently that his hands are nearly waving, that his hair falls into his face and he can't move. every muscle in his body tenses so tight that he feels as though his bones will snap under the pressure.
how much of what he sees is memory and how much of it is real? how much of it is fake?
everything.
something warm envelopes one of his hands and gently moves it from his shoulder. someone murmurs something soft to him.
they smell like rocks and rain and a clear creek, they smell like freshly cut oak wood and blooming daisies. the same warmth from before cups his cheek and tilts his head up gently so karl opens his eyes and looks at them.
“ again?” the man asks, nervous, wiping away a tear with his thumb.
karl doesn't recognize him at first. there is no name that comes to mind when he looks at his scarred face and there isn't any story tied to him that karl can remember. but the man kind and he offers karl a comforting smile so karl tries to steady his breathing for him in return.
“ good job. deep breaths.”
karl sees someone's legs move behind the person infront of him and it startles him enough for the one holding him to notice.
“ it’s just sapnap. ‘s okay.”
“ sapnap.” karl repeats.
the blue eyed man responds immediately. “ karl?”
karl looks up at him, finally, and he doesn't see one person. he sees quite a few, actually, and their bodies overlap eachother in a flickering mess that makes him look away. he doesn't say anything.
“ …..karl?”
“ i don't wanna go.” karl huffs as he slowly looks down at his legs.
“ where?”
karl feels his legs and arms tingle like they always do when he’s about to leave. a low buzzing noise gets louder and louder in his head, he feels dizzy and he doesn't realize that he was tilting to the side but apparently he was because alex catches him before he hits the floor. sapnap is at their sides in a heartbeat. he’s searching karl’s expression, trying to catch his eye and all karl can see is-
‘ catch me!’
when a jolt of electricity rushed through his body he gasps, grabs hold of alex's sleeves and leans into his side.
“ just…”
stay. they need to stay with him on the floor, he thinks, because if he tries to stand up right now he might actually throw up on alex’s lap.
“ stay. here. stay. ‘m not going.”
“ going where?” sapnap asks, tries to hide the anxiety in his voice.
“ please.” karl gasps.
so they stay.
when midnight falls, when the clouds roll across the sky to block out the glistening moonlight, when gentle rain begins to fall outside, they stay.