Work Text:
Air! Air!
He woke with a start.
Breathe. Breathe.
The breath filled his lungs with an almost painful force, almost as sharp as a violent wave. Even his ribs hurt.
Air. Air.
Illusions of light blinded him temporarily as all mental faculties returned to their place.
Dark. Night.
Thoughts regained order. He was in his room, in his own bed. The air was stale. The pajamas and the blankets that covered him felt heavy and his body hot.
Sleep. Night. Maybe fever. Or a bad nightmare.
He reached his forehead with one hand and felt as if he were touching the body of another. He felt shaken, but he didn't remember dreaming anything. Since Atem had left, his soul room had become a gray and lifeless place. He no longer had oneiric imagination.
Yet he wasn't sure he had dreamed.
Since Atem was gone, how could those be called dreams? As soon as he closed his eyes, every time he went to sleep, when he had to abandon himself to the lull of sleep, a fierce feeling darted in his chest, and he was awake again, panting as if after a long apnea.
It is a bit of stress due to the trauma of separation.
Every time he fell asleep he seemed to vanish into thin air. He wasn't used to letting go. To leave your body 'alone'.
Yes, here's the problem.
He had never been so alone before. He didn't remember what life was like before Atem, how he could fall asleep without him.
The Pharaoh's spirit had always been at his side. Even if invisible or even before he was aware of it, he could sense his presence through the puzzle, and that was enough to not make him feel like he was feeling now.
How can I get over all of this?
Atem was gone, and he suddenly felt lighter. As if the Pharaoh had actually burdened his body with the presence of his spirit within him, as if the soul had a real weight. Over time, however, a different annoyance had worsened at the height of his chest, in a contradictory succession of consequences. As if your heart had literally realized the difference and was now struggling to pump on its own.
What is the name of the loneliness of two people separated after they have shared the heart?
He lay down and put his arm to his forehead, staring at the ceiling. The other hand dropped on his abdomen, where he used to rest the Millennium Puzzle while he was lying down. He could almost feel the weight of the age-old artifact if he pushed his imagination a little. He could feel the cold metal under his fingers and the angularity of the components scratching his fingertips. He started to pick it up. His hand tightened and his fist closed into nothingness.
This is the reality now.
Suddenly disheartened, he tried to repel that wave of despair that he had perceived coming from inside the throat. He closed his eyes, forced himself to sleep. He thought about the future, about tomorrow, about what awaited him.
But it won't be the same without you.
He pursed his lips to stifle the sobs. Only the tears fell silently from his eyes, hidden from the world under his abandoned arm. He couldn't afford to be sad. He had to be happy and carry on.
Everything ended well.
He hated crying since he was alone because he felt that the emotions expressed ended up in the void, unheard and meaningless. He hated himself, because he couldn't be completely happy with how it ended. He couldn't get over the fact that he would have to live with such a burden all his life. He tried to imagine having the Puzzle again. It all started with a desire. What he would not have given to be able to express another.
I wish we had had another opportunity.