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Your eyes burned.
All around you: bright lights burning your eyes. Your surroundings were swirling; everything looked so far away, and yet right there at your fingertips. Your mind felt outside your digital body. Simultaneously, it felt as if you were a viewer trapped inside your own head, watching yourself as if your life were a movie on a television screen. Time was moving slowly, speeding up in increments only to lag back to a snail’s pace.
It hurt to breathe. Granted, you didn’t need to, here in the circus, but you could feel the short gasps as they came in through your parted lips. Your chest heaved, straining as your body cried for non-existent oxygen.
You were losing yourself. Your consciousness was drifting between a flow of technicolor and the more solid non-reality that expanded before you. The main floor of the circus was empty, everyone having already retreated to their rooms for the day. You had too; that was until this had started.
The corners of your vision blurred out as you spun around, looking for Caine or anyone else to help you. Looking down at your body, your hands felt miles away, as if you were an intruder or an imposter in your own skin. Your nerves simultaneously burned, yet itched with numbness. You felt like you were imploding, like your guts were being spilt from your body, but you were also aware of the cool nonexistence of not being at all.
You weren’t yourself. And yet you were. Existence was blurring within you, spilling out into your actions and thoughts. You had felt this way before. You knew the signs. But this feeling had never felt so fatal. The spiral had never seemed to have an end before. Now, it felt like you were stumbling straight down into blackness: slamming against the bottom of an endless stairwell.
Your head spun, part of you desperate for cool relief. What little sense of preservation you had forced you forward, your legs like jello, but still forcing your half-responsive body forward.
You had lost some small amount of time, your memory skipping forward to a moment you weren’t familiar with. In front of you was a structure, soft and just as colorful as the spiral in your mind’s vision. You thrust the entrance aside, throwing yourself into the small enclosure. You couldn’t process what it was, but something told you it's what you needed. You would be safe once inside.
Your body crumpled to the ground, your head spinning. You could feel it throbbing now. For the first time, you could feel the wet liquid that had spilt from your eyes, drenching your cheeks and soaking down to your lips and the front of your shirt. You could taste the salt, and something akin to iron.
There was a muffled noise from in front of you. You heard that before anything else, but you couldn’t make out the words. Next, you felt two hands on your shoulders. The grip was tight but gentle, wrapped around your arms with something akin to tenderness. It grounded you enough to bring you back to the moment; your brain was finally able to process ambiguous sounds into words.
“Hey. Hey.” It was finally reaching you. “I asked if you’re alright.”
Your vision cleared, just enough to make out the white chess piece in front of you. Kinger’s eyes were locked onto you: eyes straight and focused in clarity. Your hands shook as you tried to reach out to him, but you couldn’t muster the strength to grasp anything. Kinger’s eyes tracked your hands, taking in your slowed movements. You felt a momentary loss of contact as he moved to take hold of them. He held your hands close, both of his cupping around yours.
“Can you tell me what happened?”
He was worried. You could hear it in his voice, feel it in the way he looked at you and touched you. You took in a shaken breath, trying to force yourself to speak. Your lips pried apart as if they had been fastened, but nothing came from them. The most you could do was shake your head, your body trembling more from your inability to speak. It threatened to send you tumbling again.
Kinger’s eyes soften further, his pupils blown large compared to the tiny dots that were yours. It felt as if his gaze was boring straight through you. You didn’t mind, though. It meant you were finally getting feeling back in your body.
His hands slid from around yours to around you. Kinger pulled you tight against himself, but he addressed you with a gentle tenderness. It felt as if he was holding you together, keeping you from crumbling into dust.
Kinger’s robe was soft against your skin. It brushed against your face and your arms as he held you. He shifted to give you more comfort, and it brushed against your cheek. You couldn’t help but rub your hand against a small part of the robe in a mindless absence. You could feel your head slipping again, but it wasn’t into that existential nothingness like before; now, it was into the quietness of this moment.
Time passed. How much? You didn’t know. Eventually, Kinger moved again, arranging your bodies so that he could see your face. Your gaze met his as he slowly began to wipe the few remaining tears from your eyes. His thumb rubbed against your cheek, the cotton of his gloves passing warmth to your skin.
“I don’t – don’t know what happened.” You finally choked out, a far-delayed response to his earlier questioning. The calm that had settled was broken again as your shoulders shook once more, tears resuming as you thought about what you had gone through in those short-passed moments. It was enough to put you back at the edge, but somehow, Kinger’s presence was enough to keep you from tumbling over again.
You could feel his grip on you tighten. You clung to him without realizing, desperate for the relief he was providing you.
Kinger seemed to contemplate your words. The silence was deafening, dragging on like nails against a chalkboard. You were relieved when his voice finally broke the air.
“It’s okay not to know.” He responded, voice soft, tentative. “It’s ok not to know what happened. I don’t always know why I feel certain ways, but I want you to know that I’m always here for you. If you ever feel this way, or even if you’re just lonely, you’ll always have me to talk to. If you have to pull me in here and away from everyone else, I don’t mind. The most important thing to me is that you’re safe. That’s what matters.”
The words were comforting, the first thing in a long time to soothe your nerves. You nodded, trying to thank him; words fell short again. Regardless, Kinger seemed to understand the sentiment.
“You don’t have to thank me.” He reassured, rubbing his thumb against your arm as he spoke. “You can come to me any time. I will always be here for you.”
The words sank in, cutting you deep. The sweetness of them stung, serrated like a razor crafted of sugar. It was the first time in a very long time that you didn’t feel alone. The sentiment was so simple, so genuine, so heartfelt that it hurt you. But the pain was bearable. It hurt a lot less than the cold despair you had almost drowned in earlier.
Your muscles finally relaxed. You allowed the other to wipe away at your anxieties, giving in to the comfort of the moment. For once, you were willing to accept it. For once, you weren’t alone.