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Bugz feels like he's melting. Maybe boiling.
Heat and heaviness fills his very bones. The world is sliding around his feet, shifting and moving in a way that feels distinctly incorrect and weirdly familiar. Colors seem to stretch out and meld together into unified shapes that take forms that Bugz can't recognize- amalgamations of billions of beings that Bugz isn't supposed to be able to see.
Bugz wants it to stop. But he can't make his tongue move.
Someone may be taking but their voice is far and fuzzy, sounds that seem to echo around him and fizzle out like popping candy. They're distant- but uncomfortably loud. Shades of static that make Bugz's head spin.
It's not meant to feel like this, Bugz thinks. Or maybe it is? It's hard to tell- the void of emptiness where his thoughts usually were is consuming him, turning him into a mindless drone.
This isn't right. This is- this is wrong. He tries to convey that to Honey- to Honey? Was Honey still here?
He couldn't tell. Everything was still moving but Bugz couldn't- his mouth was glued shut and his muscles loose. He couldn't do anything. The thoughts of apparent wrongness left him before they could form, visions causing fear reactions that had nowhere to sit except in his head, to stew, to rot, to die with him.
Was he dying? Was this death? Death was not usually framed so vibrantly- loud and boisterous and headache-inducingly bright.
The forms around him melted into shapes that resembled something big, big, bigger than anything Bugz had seen. He wasn't in a room anymore, he was at- at an edge. A never ending edge. An edge extended with mountains and monsters and lights that don't make sense- a hell frozen over of the likes Bugz had never seen before.
And beyond that- a fold. Where the universe came in on itself and became a lack of matter, where space became time became nothing. Nothing. Nothing at all.
There was nothing.
And then Bugz was back in a room again.
The noise subsided and Bugz could feel- could feel air, in his lungs. A heart, in his chest. There was fabric- real, textured, touchable fabric beneath him- there was air all around him (not the void not the void not the void not).
Through the ringing in his ears, Bugz could hear someone crying in the background. He thought he might be crying too.
It slowed, slowed, slowed, calmed. And then Bugz was aware of himself again. Not just the body he inhibited but the mind of it too. The being that he was supposed to be, in the enormity of the known (and unknown) universe.
It wasn't Bugz that was crying. Bugz wasn't doing much at all- he was just being. Being real, again.
Honey was crying. Crying apologies, in front of him. Apologies for the experiment gone wrong, for not paying more attention, for allowing the hypnosis to take him that deep when neither of them were ready.
Bugz wanted to say it was okay but his tongue still couldn't move. Funny, that. There was a fog around him now. A feeling, or lack thereof, that made him unexpectedly tired.
Bugz found himself drifting away, away, gone to a place in his own head. A controlled emptiness, this time- something for himself alone.
Bugz let himself fade.